Rajmael of Clan Lavellan
by Powerslammer
Summary: Rajmael is an elf possessed of great pride and an incredible power. Born with a powerful name and a greater destiny, he has lived his whole life by the the Vir Tanadhal. And now he must use his ancient knowledge to stand against forces that threaten his world and everything he loves. Watch as he stands as a Dalish Elf, a Herald and as The Inquisitor. Please, please review.
1. Leaving Clan Lavellan

**Author's Note. Important!**

**For you new readers who don't know who I am, or are unaware, please pay attention.**

**I highly recommend that you read my other story "I am Aedan of Highever" before you read this one. His story is canon with this one.**

**It's about my Hero of Ferelden. And if you'd be so kind as to leave a review, I'd appreciate it.**

**~]I[~**

**~Leaving Clan Lavellan~**

The rains lightly pattered down from silver skies and gently on to the earth. The rains clouds that flew over the Free Marches had been kind this season. The little silver drops fell from the leaves, upon the branches and down the trunks that stood over their grave.

Smoke gently puffed from Rajmael's sylvan wood pipe as he stood over the Vhenadhal Trees that watched over the resting places of Evanura and Nethras, the two people he loved most. Evanura was his heart's desire that he could never have, and Nethras, who was one of their best hunters and was more of a brother than a friend to Rajmael.

His clasped the pendant that hung from his neck as he remembered the times they had together. It was a brilliant amber pendant with a silver, heart-shaped ironwood lead set inside. The Dalish were never ones to possess riches, but this necklace he wore was his most treasured possession because it was given to him by these two who loved him so much.

How bitterly sweet it was for husband and wife to rest side-by-side with one another. In life the two of them were so in love, and they loved their child just as much. Melancholy always washed over him when he came here, and every time he did Rajmael couldn't help but ask himself _"Could I have saved them?"_

Rajmael doused the flame in his pipe when heard the faint, gentle footsteps of his teacher approaching him from behind. _"Rajmael, I'm sorry, but it is time."_ She called with an undercurrent of sadness in her voice. _"They will be waiting here for you when you return."_

Rajmael turned to face his adopted mother-figure. Deshanna Istimaethoriel Lavellan had been Keeper and guide to the Lavellan clan for many decades and seasons, and yet it always shocked Rajmael how young she looked, though he'd never dare ask how old she really was. Deshana's figure was quite shapely, too. All her feminine assets had suffered very little from age and suffered few wrinkles. Her brilliant silver hair was tied into an intricate braid that went down the length of her back. Her deep, smoky green eyes that were full of wisdom and care, and at this moment, melancholy.

Rajmael had seen shemlen women who weren't yet close to her age like grapes, they shriveled dry and hard with no life in them. But Keeper Deshanna aged like an oak, she grew more powerful with each year that was added to her. He would have hit on her constantly if she wasn't like a mother to him.

Normally, Rajmael would make an off-color joke about her age and then get an expected smack upside the head, but he was too nervous to make an attempt today.

_"Ma nuvenin, Keeper."_ The younger elf acknowledged.

_"What, that's it?"_ The Keeper asked curiously. _"No smart comments? No tasteless jokes?"_

_"Not today. Seeing how tense you look, I might give you a stroke."_ Rajmael finally gave in. _"And I don't have the time to enjoy watching you die today."_

_"That's better."_ The Keeper smiled at the young man before her. The young boy who was like her son had now grown up to be a capable man, and he was now off to go into the turbulent world of the warring shemlen. As much as it hurt her and the clan to see him go, she knew that what was happening at this Conclave to determine that fates of mages and Templars would also affect the fates of all elves, in the wilderness and in the cities._ "Go, now Da'len. The clan and your family are waiting for you."_

_"Yeah, yeah. I'm going."_ Rajmael obliged sarcastically. As he walked away, Deshanna felt a twinge in her heart as tears welled in her eyes. Like this would be the last time she would ever see her adopted son again. Dear Mythal, she prayed that she hadn't sent him to his death.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael entered the tent that he grew up under throughout his childhood. He saw the woman of this humble home was hastily packing Rajmael's travel kit. Her name was Ariva, and she was the woman who raised Rajmael as a son, as well as the clan healer. She was moving with haste, and muttering unhappily beneath her breath as she packed each item into the satchel. While she did a good job of it, it wasn't a task she did happily.

Most members of the clan showed Ariva the same respect they would a bear: by giving her a wide berth and seeking her out only when absolutely necessary. While she was the clan's healer, and an excellent one at that, with her temper, she was just as likely to break someone's neck as well as heal them, then break their neck again. Being raised by her was a joy that almost every elf in the Dalish clans was happy to not have, but was Rajmael's to suffer.

Despite being one of the clan elders, Ariva still retained the beauty of her youth, and the years of being a mother and wife had done nothing to dampen her fiery disposition. Her hair was still black with a blue sheen in the light without a trace of grey in it, and her vallaslin which honored Sylaise the Hearthkeeper had no wrinkles to disturb it on her face, despite the fact she had her all too familiar scowl on it.

_"Here, take this. I suspect you'll need it."_ Ariva stated, practically shoving the pack into Rajmael's hand._ "I packed you some food and provisions. Try to ration it or it won't last you a week."_

_"Thank you."_

_"There's also a halla brush and some balm for your halla."_ The matronly elf pushed. _"His coat needs to be brushed every few days to prevent any bugs getting into his fur, and the balm should keep his antlers from getting itchy."_

_"I know."_ Rajmael assured.

_"I also used some of my private stores to provide you some healing poultices. Use them only when absolutely necessary, the ingredients were very hard to find."_ Ariva insisted.

_"I understand."_ Normally, Rajmael would be too scared to approach her when Ariva was acting so agitated, but seeing after everything she had been through, he understood.

Ariva's usually prickly demeanor melted away, revealing the caring and emotionally distraught woman beneath. _"Rajmael, please. Please, just come home safely. The clan has already lost much, and I couldn't bare to lose you as well. Please come home."_

Rajmael hugged his foster mother closely, unable to see her tearing up. After everything she has been through, he hated the thought of causing her any more distress. _"I promise, I will be back. The clan is my home, and I will return to it."_

_"Then go. Say your farewells and do what you need to do."_ Ariva bade, wiping the tears from her eyes. She hugged her adopted son one last time and watched him go. She prayed to Mythal and Ghilain'nan that he would return safely.

Rajmael walked through the camp and graciously accepted the fond farewells of his clan, there was just one last person he had to greet before he left. He approached her aravel with care, not wanting to upset her more than he already had. She sat on her deck, her back to him, with her arms folded as she pouted.

_"Eva? Da'vhenan."_ Rajmael called gently. She ignored him, she was just like her mother._ "I am leaving now, Eva."_

Eva turned to face him with tears about to spill out of her big green eyes. She clutched to him and buried her face in his chest. _"Please, please don't go, Rajmael! I don't want you to leave!"_ The little girl sobbed.

Rajmael hugged the little girl and rocked her gently._ "I don't want to go either, Eva. I wish I didn't have to."_ He truly didn't want to. Eva was Evanura and Nethras' only child, and Rajmael swore to always keep her safe. She was like a daughter to him.

_"Why do you have to?"_

_"Because, da'vhenan, this Conclave between the mages and Templars is going to have an impact on this world."_ Rajmael explained in the hopes of easing her. _"And the Keeper knows that this will affect the lives of elves everywhere. We need to know what happens there."_

_"But why do **you** have to go? You **are** Dalish! You belong with us." _The little girl cried with tears in her green eyes.

_"Well, Eva,"_ Rajmael chuckled as he tried to hide his own pain._ "It's because I'm the best combatant in the clan and the best looking. It wouldn't do for our people to send nothing less than the best to show those shems what they lack."_

Eva looked up at Rajmael with her emerald eyes full of hope. _"Will you come back?"_

Rajmael hugged the child to him closely. _"I promise, da'vhenan. Even if the sky is ripped asunder and demons lay siege to the world, I will always come back."_

Rajmael finally found the strength to leave Eva and made his way over to a small shrine to his gods. He piously knelt and made an offering of flowers before the humble altar and made a prayer. Each of their gods was carved into a totem in the form of their patron animal, Rajmael didn't need to pray to all nine at the moment, just the ones he needed the most right now. _"Mythal, protector and destroyer, watch over me as I walk from my heart and into foreign lands. Andruil, greatest of all hunters, grant me the strength to walk well that I may return. Dirthamen, keeper of secrets, grant me the wisdom to act with caution and certainty. And should the worst come to pass, and the Dread Wolf comes my way, I ask thee, Falon'Din, friend of the dead, to grant me peace."_

Mythal's totem was carved in the shape of a dragon, the most powerful of all creatures of the fairer sex, just like the mother goddess. Andruil's was carved as an owl compact while snatching a hare in its talons. While the Owl was the hunter goddess' messenger, the hare was her patron animal because it was one of the most difficult animals to shoot. Falon'din's was a carving of a hunched over raven, an animal that acted as both a herald and guide to the dead.

Dirthamen, the god wisdom, secrets and fortune was Rajmael's patron deity, as he desired to find lost elven secrets or treasures that would help restore what the elves had lost. Dirthamen's totem was carved into the shape of a bear, a powerful yet quiet and humble beast, and the only animal that kept the secrets that Dirthamen taught.

Rajmael looked to the last totem in the back, a wolf facing backwards from the rest of the pantheon representing Fen'Harel, the Dread Wolf. He faced away from the rest of his fellow Creators so as to keep his fangs and trickery away from the clan. Rajmael carefully placed a small offering in the front of the Elvhen trickster god, as to keep the wolf from turning his snout on him and as to not earn the wolf's ire.

Rajmael rose from his prayer and made his way to the stable where his faithful halla was waiting for him. When he arrived there, Rajmael was gladdened to see his foster father, Junnarel waiting for him. Junnarel was one of the best hunters amongst all the Dalish clans. He stood tall and proud amongst his fellow elves, yet he always carried himself with such humility. Everyone in the clan looked up to him as a friend, elder, and protector. But to Rajmael, Junnarel was his father, having raised him alongside Nethras as a second son. He taught Rajmael everything he needed to know, not only survival, but about what it truly meant to be a Dalish elf

_"Have you said your farewells, Rajmael?"_ Junnarel asked in his deep, gentle voice

_"Yes. Though I doubt Ariva is ready to see me go."_ Rajmael answered regretfully.

_"Given what...happened, I cannot say her feeling are unjustified."_ Junnarel sympathized with his wife's feelings. _"But are you sure you are ready to go?"_

_"I...I am not sure, Junnarel."_ Rajmael answered honestly. _"Clan Lavellan is my life, my whole world. I am not sure I want to leave it behind. Especially Eva."_

_"The world is changing around us, Rajmael. The human Chantry is falling, and the world's mages are fighting back. What Keeper Deshana said is true, the world is changing."_ Junnarel counseled. _"Whether the shemlen choose to acknowledge it or not, the elves are a part of this world, and whatever is happening now will effect us."_

_"I know."_ Rajmael sighed, as if to convince himself.

Junnarel placed his hand on Rajmael's shoulder confidently. _"This is what you've been training for your whole life, Rajmael. And there is no one amongst all the clans that I would trust this mission to. It is why you bare the vallaslin of Dirthamen on your face."_

Rajmael unconsciously traced his finger along the tattoo inked into his face. The day he received it from Keeper Deshana, he asked for Dirthamen's symbol to declare the path and god he had chosen to follow. Dirthamen was the elven god of fortune, secrets and knowledge. Rajmael had chosen Dirthamen as his patron god out of all the Creators in the hopes of acquiring knowledge and rediscovering secrets for his people. This mission most certainly fit that criteria.

_"Remember your training, and try not to let your past cloud your judgment."_ Junnarel said seriously.

Rajmael knew what his foster-father was talking about. _"Don't worry. I won't stay there any longer than I need to be. Once I have learned all that there is to know, I'll immediately return to the clan."_

_"Then go now, and may Ghilain'nan speed your journey. Ariva and I will watch over Eva until you return."_ Junnarel hugged his foster sun and gave him his halla's reigns.

Neiren stood as tall and as proud as a Vhenadal tree, and just like the tree, the Halla was a great part of the Elvhen culture. In the days of the Dales they were the proud mounts that carried their Emerald Knights to patrol their borders. These were no beasts of burden however, they only assisted the Dalish because the Dalish knew how to care for them and treated them as friends and great friends they were.

Neiren was taller than a human stallion and twice as intelligent. He had a coat of fur so white he was nearly blinding and his antlers appeared to be mad of silver, Neiren was a creature of rare beauty even among the Dalish. Sometimes Rajmael some times found it a wonder that such magnificent beast bonded with him.

_"Hey, Neiren…"_ Rajmael addressed while preparing to mount him._ "Ready to go out for a…uh, adventure?"_

Neiren lowed in response and pointed his snout forward, pointing at something behind Rajmael. It was Keeper Deshanna.

_"Before you go, Rajmael. Take this."_ The Keeper bade as she handed him an item carefully wrapped in furs. When Rajmael unwrapped it he couldn't believe his eyes. _"This sword has existed since before the time of the Fall of Arlathan. Take it with you, and use it well."_

The young elf gazed at this priceless piece of elven history. It was a single-edged sword with a slight curve in the blade which made it an excellent cutting weapon with great stabbing power. Forged with an ancient magic and technique long lost to history, the blade was made of ancient sylvan wood, white as snow, harder than diamonds with an edge as sharp as pain and ancient elven glyphs glowed along the edge of the blade. The cross-guard was in the shape of raven wings that spread out from the base of the blade. The handle was wrapped in Great Bear leather with the elven prayer for the dead etched into it, while the pommel was set with a dragon's fang.

This sword was Vir Enasalin, the Path to Victory. It was one of the most treasured relics that Clan Lavellan possessed. Rajmael couldn't believe she would actually hand this to him. _"Keeper, are you sure you want to hand this weapon over to me?"_

_"No one else is trained for the use of this weapon as you are. This sword carries the strength and history of our people, Rajmael. May they protect you, and go with Dirthamen's wisdom."_ The Keeper put a sly smile on her face._ "And if you lose it, I'll know. And then I will hunt you down and crucify you to a tree."_

_"Awww, you do care. Be still my heart." _Rajmael laughed as strapped the sword to his waist and mounted Neirin. _"Dareth'shiral, arla' a vhenan. Farewell, home of my heart."_

Junnarel tried to comfort his wife as while she held Eva closely to her. Tears streamed down Eva and Ariva's eyes as they watched Rajmael's departure. Junnarel had to will himself to not do the same. as the head hunter and a clan elder, he would not been seen as a wailing woman, even though his own heart hurt at the sight of seeing him leave. Their family had already lost much, now they had to watch their second son go off into the world that of the shemlen and their Chantry. Their world was unkind to the elves as history and their own life experience had proven. He prayed that Mythal would watch over him. Their clan could not stand the thought of losing another son.

**~At the Conclave in the Temple of Sacred Ashes~**

These shemlen were even more idiotic than he thought. Rajmael was worried that his facial tattoos would give him away, but to these Chantry guards he was just another hired mercenary. Well, with all the mages and Templars flocking to the Conclave they're probably more concerned with a battle breaking out in the middle of the Temple than one lowly elven heathen.

With so many skirts on both sides, he couldn't tell if some of them were pretty women and ugly men, or ugly women and pretty men, it was confounding. Especially considering how good looking some of them looked in those skirts. Unfortunately, he didn't have time to check under the hood. The Conclave had begun.

It was a massive gathering in the heart of the Temple, mages and their representatives on one side, and the Templars and their commanders on the other. As to be expected with mages and Templars, both sides started arguing like cats and dogs being locked in the same kennel. They began spitting insults and threats at one another, it would have come to all out fighting if the leaders of both sides hadn't ordered their peers down.

_"This is ridiculous, Knight-Commander Marteu!"_ One of the Templars shouted. _"The purpose of the Order is to guard and hunt these mages down, not make deals with them. They should all be rounded and put in chains!"_

_"I'd like to see you act so high and mighty if the Champion of Kirkwall was here!"_ One of the mages challenged.

_"The Champion of Kirkwall!?"_ The same knight-lieutenant spat angrily. _"That traitorous blasphemer who dared interfere with the Templars sacred duty? He was friends with the apostate who killed Grand-Cleric Elthina!"_

_"Hawke stood for the mages when you Templars started using the Rite of Tranquility to lobotomize mages into servants and turned Kirkwall into a police-state!"_ The same mage argued.

_"ENOUGH!"_ Knight-Commander Marteu ordered.

_"Knight-Commander…."_ His subordinate questioned.

_"I said enough!"_ The knight-commander turned to address the Conclave._ "I've heard the name "Hawke" on several lips this week. Many of us blame the Champion for the events in Kirkwall, which sparked a war and hurled all Thedas into chaos. But can we truly fault Hawke for what he did? Here was a poor refugee from Ferelden who came to the Free Marches fleeing the Blight. Coming from a family of apostates, Hawke must have spent his life hiding from Templars, hearing about the abuses to which mages under the care of the Circle were subjected. Make no mistake, there were abuses. We will never find a peaceful solution to this conflict until we admit that we were partially responsible."_

_"The Champion had no right to interfere!"_ The Templar continued to argue. _"We have dominion over the mages by divine right!"_

_"Are the Champion's actions during the mage uprising so hard to understand, given all I have said?"_ The Knight-Commander continued._ "Following the destruction of the chantry, Knight-Commander Meredith invoked the Right of Annulment and called for the execution of every mage in Kirkwall. It was not right; another injustice added to an already lengthy list. But after Meredith's treatment of the mages under her charge, can anyone truly blame any mage for what they did?"_

_"We came to the Divine's Conclave to try and reach a peaceful solution."_ An elven Enchanter finally said. _"The Champion showed us we could fight back, but now we want peace."_

Even Rajmael had heard of the Champion of Kirkwall, he read "The Tales of The Champion" six times and managed to collect several smutty volumes about Hawke's more illicit conquests. "The Hawke Dives for Pearls" and "The Pirate finds the Hanged Man" were his favorites.

While the mages and Templars continued arguing and fussing amongst themselves, Rajmael couldn't help but wonder, _"Where is the Divine?"_ She of all people should be here right at this moment, especially if it looked like the two faction were about to come to blows. Rajmael decided to wander the halls to gather more information.

With the remainder of the Chantry's forces making sure that the mages and Templars continued to play nice, the temple's halls were practically vacant. Rajmael had no trouble walking them.

_"Someone help me!"_ A faint voice cried and echoed down the hall.

That didn't sound like a troubled cry, it sounded like someone crying as though their life depended on it. Rajmael ran down the hall as fast as he could while he followed the echoes.

_"Why are you doing this? You of all people?"_ That same voice asked. Was someone threatening her?

_"Now is the hour of our victory!"_ Called a powerful voice, full of authority and malice. There was something wrong. The voice resonated with a black power that couldn't belong to any mortal. _"Keep the sacrifice still."_

Well, that didn't sound good. Rajmael ran as fast as his legs could carry him.

He heard the sounds of whimpering and dark energy emanating from behind a giant door, they were right here. _"Someone help me!"_

Rajmael kicked the door open with all his might._ "What's going on here!?"_ Then his whole world erupted in flash of green light.

_"Run while you can! Warn them!"_ Was the last thing he heard before his world went completely black. And thus the nightmare began, and it was hungry.

**Language Codex:**

**Da'vhenan:** Little Heart.

**Vir Enasalin:** Path of Victory.

**Arla'a Vhenan:** Place of My Heart.


	2. Against Accusations & Demons

**~Against Accusations &amp; Demons~**

Rajmael found himself crawling on all fours out of nowhere on a ruined floor covered with rubble. The air was filled with searing heat from fire and the freezing chill of the mountains. What happened? Where was he? Why couldn't he remember? It felt as if a mountain had just crushed him and he just crawled out of it with every bone in his body crushed into gravel. He heard footsteps approaching before he blacked out again. Well, shit.

After what felt like an eternity Rajmael woke up once again, he had the hangover, but couldn't remember the party. This time he was in chains and surrounded by a bunch of pissed off humans pointing their swords at him, and what's worse was his sword was gone.

A searing pain burned through his left hand. He looked down and saw a flaming green mark burning in his palm. What in the name of Sylaise was that? It was like one of those cautionary tales his Keeper told him what would happen if he kept jerkin' on his nerkin. Only worse.

_"Tell Seeker Cassandra that the prisoner is awake."_ One of the guards ordered.

**~XoXoXo~**

* * *

Cassandra was never the most even-tempered of people. Her family, superiors, and instructors have always lectured her about her bad temper, but now her anger was rightfully justified; Divine Justinia had been murdered! Now all the effort that she, Divine Justinia, and Leliana put into arranging this Conclave had been snuffed out along with thousands of lives. Templars, mages, even innocent civilians gone in a green explosion of light. They had no idea what could have caused it, the destruction of the Chantry at Kirkwall paled in comparison to the death toll that was found at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. What that vile mage, Anders had done required some volatile and dangerous ingredients but what was done here and now couldn't have been done with alchemy could only have been done with very powerful magic. And now there was a great hole in the sky…with demons pouring out of it! Were the mages involved? Was this done by a political rival of Her Most Holy? Or something else entirely?

Well they had someone to give them answers. Not long after the destruction her soldiers had found a single survivor amongst all the carnage and the only way he could survived this disaster is if he was the one who perpetrated it. And shortly after they had gained the prisoner a strange elven apostate approached them, what was his name? Solas! And now the prisoner had a strange glowing mark on his hand the mirrored the Breach. This was no coincidence. This elf must have had something to do with the Divine's murder.

_"Seeker Cassandra! Sister Nightingale!"_ The guard saluted.

_"We need to be cautious and tactful."_ Leliana informed Cassandra. _"We will not learn anything if we use your…usual approach."_

_"Leliana, the sky is split open with demons pouring through."_ Cassandra argued. _"We don't have time for subtleties!" She began to feel her fists clench and the veins in her head tighten. "He will tell us what he did and how to undo it, or I will make him curse the day his parents ever met!"_

Leliana gave an exasperated sigh. "_Very well Cassandra, we'll try to get answers from him quickly. If he knows anything then we must keep him alive. Cullen's forces aren't going to last long."_

The Right and Left Hands of the Divine entered the jail holding the murderer. He was a Dalish Elf judging by the elaborate tattoos on his face. The Dalish were elves who refused to submit to human rule and resolved to live in the wilds, away from society. This one had dark red hair that was pulled back into a ponytail but with the sides of his head shaved. He seemed to be somewhere around her age with fine, angular features and brilliant eyes like molten gold. Cassandra had to admit, he was quite attractive for an elven heathen. He was staring at her with a look of arrogance and contempt that set Cassandra's anger aflame even further.

_"Oooh, a Seeker."_ Rajmael thought to himself. This should be fun. The guard returned a short time later with two very attractive shemlen women. One was a flaming redhead wearing a hood. She walked with a quiet grace that was almost similar to a hunters, she probably had some great legs. The other was a tall dark-haired women wearing a tunic with a sunburst eye over her armor. Her features were sharp enough to cut paper, and had a figure most women would murder for. And despite having a scar on her cheek, and a murderous scowl on her face, she was quite lovely.

For the sake of being an ass, Rajmael gave the dark-haired woman an arrogant wink. His gesture worked better than he hoped, and practically sent the woman into a frenzy. The dark-haired one reached for her sword but was stopped by the redhead.

_"Wait, Cassandra!"_ She said. _"We cannot kill him yet, we need him."_

_"This man murdered the Most Holy, Leliana."_ The dark-haired one snarled. _"He must be punished!"_

_"And that may be, but first we must know why he is here and how this happened."_ The redhead insisted.

The dark-haired one relented. She turned her gaze to Rajmael, her eyes burning with anger, and for the first time in his life Rajmael was chained to the floor with two beautiful women in the room and he wasn't having any fun.

_"Tell us now, who are you and what have you done?"_ The dark-haired one demanded._ "The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended it is dead. Even our Most Holy."_

Rajmael gave the Seeker an arrogant grin like her words meant nothing. _"There must have been over a thousand people in attendance. Looks like they missed a couple."_

The Seeker's face twisted in in rage. How dare this man be so arrogant? She grabbed his left wrist in a vice-like grip and yanked his marked hand. _"Explain this! Or I swear on Andraste's pyre, you will hang before the day is through!"_

Rajmael looked at the foreign mark on his hand. He had no answers. _"I…can't"_

_"What do you mean you can't?"_ The dark-haired women echoed.

_"I don't know what that is or how it got there."_

_"You're lying!"_ The Seeker growled.

Judging from her accent Rajmael could tell she was Neverran. Oh, this was going to be so much fun. _"Wait. Are you Nevarran?"_

The Seeker paused for a moment. _"What if I am?"_

Rajmael tried to keep a straight face. _"Okay, what you need to do is to return to your country, go to your to your family's necropolis…and go FUCK YOUR GRANDADDY"S CORPSE SOME MORE!"_ The elf cackled like a madman until the Seeker's mailed palm backhanded him across the left cheek. _"Ha! You even hit like a Nevarran!"_ This time her fist socked him across the right cheek. _"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, miss."_ Rajmael said insincerely through stifled chuckled and fake sobs. _"You hit like a Nevarran…**GIRL!"**_

The air became very still as everyone in the room was shocked into silence. One of the guards actually dropped his sword, and the redhaird lass gasped and her face was painted with utter shock. The Seeker, however, looked pissed. If looks could kill Rajmael would have exploded into a pile of ashes. She reared her fist back to knock the mouthy elf's head off, only to be stopped by the redhead.

_"We still need him, Cassandra."_ She reminded.

Cassandra strutted back from him in anger, before she let her temper to get the better of her. It'd be best to let Leliana question this elf. _"Do you remember what happened? What that mark is?"_

After that Seeker possibly loosened some of his teeth, Rajmael decided he had enough fun. It was time to get serious. But he truly couldn't remember what happened after he arrived at the Conclave. _"I remember…running. Things…were chasing me. And…a woman?"_

_"A woman?"_ The redhead echoed curiously. _"Do you remember nothing else?"_

_"I told you, I don't know what the fuck is going on."_ Rajmael snapped. _"Now will someone mind telling me why the fuck I'm in chains and being interrogated!?"_

The two women nodded at each other._ "It would be better if we showed you."_ Cassandra answered.

The Seeker undid the chains that held him to the ground, but left his hands lashed together and led him outside. The light of day was brighter then he remembered, until he got a good look at the sky.

A sense of shock and dread filled him as he gazed upon the ruined sky. A void like a sickle green sun had broken into the heavens and cracked it open as a pillar of burning green speared down to earth with comets from another world falling from it.

_"We call it the Breach. It's a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour."_ Cassandra informed._ "It's not the only such rift, just the largest. All caused by the explosion that destroyed the Conclave."_

_"An explosion can do that?"_ Rajmael asked in disbelief. He could feel the magic around the mountain was completely out of balance, like the world was trying to tear itself apart.

_"This one did. And whatever that mark is, it's the key to all of this." _The Seeker explained.

_"The key to what?"_

_"To closing the Breach. Whether or not that is possible we shall find out shortly."_ Cassandra's tone was heavy with doubt. _"It is our only chance, however. As well as yours._

A pulse burst forth from the Breach and shook the very ground. Rajmael felt the mark grow larger and send a burning pain through the very bones of his arm and throughout his whole being. It was so intense that he couldn't help but cry out in agony as he went to his knees.

_"Each time the Breach get bigger, your mark grows larger. And it is killing you."_ Cassandra continued.

_"You still think I did this? To myself?_" Rajmael growled through the pain.

_"Unintentionally, something obviously went wrong."_ Cassandra surmised stoically.

_"And if I'm not responsible?"_ Rajmael demanded.

_"Someone is. And you're our only suspect. If you wish to prove your innocence, then this is the only way."_

As much as Rajmael wanted to prove his innocence, he wasn't going to be forced into anything he didn't agree to, least of all by some Chantry lapdog. _"Two minutes ago you wanted to knock my head off! Now you want me to assist you? If I help you, I want you to swear that you'll release me."_

Cassandra's eyes went wide with outrage._ "That is out of the question! You are our only…!"_

_"The only method to closing the Breach!"_ Rajmael interjected angrily. _"You said so yourself! And if you want me to close then you have to promise you'll let me go if I am able to. Otherwise you'll have to kill me now, and then you lose your only method of closing that anus in the sky."_

Cassandra's scowl could have shattered a mirror. _"There will be a trial. I can promise no more."_

_"You think a Dalish Elf can get a fair trial from the Chantry?"_ Rajmael demanded indignantly. He knew the answer to that question all too well. _"If I can seal the Breach I want you to let me go. Or else we're all going to die here, and you'll never learn who really killed your precious Divine."_

This elf was putting her up against a wall. The more he demanded to be released, the guiltier he seemed in her eyes. But right now he was possibly the only one who could close the Breach, and if she didn't get his cooperation they'd all die here. She had no choice. _"If you can seal the Breach, I will let you go."_

_"Not good enough!"_ Rajmael snapped._ "I need a promise I can trust."_

_"I swear in the name of the Maker and his Holy Bride that you will not be harmed." _Cassandra vowed.

"You think I give a shit about your god and your dead prophet?" Rajmael retorted, very offended. "The worst things in your race's history have been done in the name of your wretched god. I know that from personal experience."

Cassandra couldn't believe this. How could this elf, how could anyone, doubt a promise made in the name of the Maker. She reminded herself to bare in mind that this man is a Dalish elf, and therefore holds no loyalty to the Maker. Indeed, given the history between the Chantry and elves, she had no doubt this man had nothing but contempt for the Maker. What promise could she make that a nonbeliever could trust?

"I swear, on the grave of my beloved brother, Antony Pentaghast, that when this is over, I will let you go." Cassandra swore solemnly and with respect. She had never invoked her brother's name before, but right now, it was the only other promise she could make that meant anything.

The intensity in Rajmael's eyes relented, and he believed Cassandra's promise. _"I can accept that. Lead the way."_

Cassandra grabbed the elf's arm and dragged him through the base camp. Everywhere he looked there were humans giving him their hateful glares. Typical shemlen.

"_It's him! The murderer!"_ One of them cried. Some dim-looking soldier with more muscles than brains. He strode towards Rajmael with the obvious intent to hurt him.

Cassandra, however, got in his path. _"Stand aside!"_

_"Lady Cassandra? What are you doing with this elf? He should be hanged!"_

_"I said stand aside!"_ Cassandra ordered.

_"He killed the Most Holy! He killed all of them! He should…!"_

Rajmael spun on the ball of his left foot and did a spinning back kick right under the man's chin. The man flipped backwards and landed on his head, out cold.

"Fuck you, and your justice." Rajmael spat at his aggressor. "You hear me, all you shemlen, inbred, hairless apes!? You can all kiss my Dalish ass!"

Rajmael's words and violence added fuel to the people's already burning anger, and they all approached to take their anger out on him. Still, Cassandra stood her ground against them.

_"I said ENOUGH! Until the Breach is closed this man is under my protection. Now stand back!"_ When Cassandra reached for her sword everyone obeyed. Few dared to question a Seeker, and fewer still dared to question a Seeker's sword.

_"What's the matter? You still want to kill me yourself?"_ Rajmael asked blithely.

_"I will not throw you to the wolves simply to assuage their anger."_ Cassandra explained aloofly. _"Though, I can hardly blame them. They mourn our Most Holy Divine Justinia. The Conclave was hers, a chance for peace between mages and Templars. Now their leaders and all those attended are dead."_

_"And now you shems want someone to blame?" _Rajmael scoffed.

_"What you said and did just now didn't exactly deflect an guilt away from you."_ Cassandra glowered.

_"Oh, I'm sorry. I guess waking up in chains and being held responsible for a crime I didn't commit has a negative effect on my disposition."_ Rajmael said sarcastically. _"Next time I see lynch mob, I'll just kindly ask them to leave me alone."_

Cassandra groaned in frustration. This was difficult for her, but she needed to not think with her heart and concentrate on their objective. _"We lash out, like the sky, but we must think beyond ourselves, as she did if we're going to survive this crisis."_

_"Ohhh. So you do want me all to yourself."_ Cassandra answered him with a punch to the arm. _"Heh-heh. I have to admit, Seeker. You're kind of cute, when you're being aggressive. You must have suitors pounding your door down."_

Cassandra groaned in annoyance as he rolled her eyes at him. She pulled out a dagger and Rajmael thought she was going to stab him, but was surprised when she cut his bonds off instead._ "Come, the nearest rift is not far."_

_"What exactly happened?"_ Rajmael asked as they ran towards the bridge leading to the Temple.

_"They say you…stepped out of a rift, then fell unconscious."_ Cassandra spoke as though she couldn't believe her own words. _"They say there was a woman with you. No one knows who she was."_

_"A woman?"_ Rajmael's curiosity was quickly replaced with dread as the bridge beneath them crumbled when another comet fell from the Breach. The two of them rolled into the frozen gully below, seemingly unharmed. Until they saw the three shade demons waiting for them at the bottom.

Cassandra sprung to her feet like a cat with her sword and shield ready for action._ "Stay behind me!"_ She ordered as she engaged their other worldly assailants.

Rajmael was not one to let someone else fight his battles for him. If only they hadn't taken his sword! He scrambled to find a proper weapon and found a crate with the right gear. It wasn't The Vir Enasalin, but it would work.

Cassandra charged the three shades with a shield bash, these things would regret stepping out of the Fade. She had to finish them quickly before the prisoner tried to make a run for it. Before she could even stab the first one with her sword a ball of fire flew past her and engulfed the demon in flames while a bolt of lightning struck down the second, and the third froze into a solid statue and shattered into a million pieces. What in the bloody breath of the Maker just happened?

Cassandra looked over to the elf and was shocked to see him with a staff in his hand and could now sense the magic radiating from him. He was a mage?! This made him even more dangerous. _"Drop your weapon. Now!"_

_"I save your sorry ass and you still want to cut my head off? Typical human."_ Rajmael scoffed.

_"I can take care of myself."_ Cassandra snapped. _"You, on the other hand, are a prisoner and now you are armed. I cannot fight demons while watching my back."_

_"I could have blown your head off while your back was turned."_ Rajmael reminded his captor. _"But instead I chose to help you, Seeker."_

Cassandra sighed in defeat and sheathed her sword. _"You're right. I cannot protect, and I cannot expect you to be defenseless. I should also remember you did not try to run."_ Cassandra turned to press forward, but turned back to her prisoner. _"By the way, I never got your name."_

_"Rajmael of Clan Lavellan."_ The prisoner answered with a proud smile on his face.

Rajmael? Cassandra, and any Chantry-goer, knew that name well enough. It was the name of the elven general who recanted his heathen ways in an unholy temple before letting the champions of the Exalted March on the Dales slay him. That was proof positive that he was Dalish. No Chantry-going elf would take pride in such a name.

The two of them ran through the ravine, dispatching any lesser demon that got in their path until they made their way to another part of the ruined temple where Chantry soldiers and a bald elven mage, and a dwarf with a crossbow were engaged in battle with demons pouring out of a rift.

The rift was like nothing he had seen or heard of before in any of his studies on magic. It was like a tear in the fabric of reality, a void that was bleeding into the real world and bringing demons into it like an evil tidal wave.

The two of them quickly joined the fray. It had been a longtime since he used a staff to channel his magic, but they were able to quickly dispatch their demonic foes. When the last of them was slain. Just when the last of them was slain, the bald elf grabbed Rajmael's hand and raised his mark towards the rift.

_"Quickly! Before more come through!"_ The elf cried. Rajmael felt the magic of the mark reach out to the rift before him and felt the Fade as though it were physically connected to him. And as he closed his hand he felt the rift close and seal the tear in the Veil with it, with a resounding crash.

Rajmael had never seen or done any magic like that before. _"How did you do that?" He asked the bald elf, completely confounded._

_"I did nothing."_ The elf assured._ "The credit is all yours."_

Rajmael looked down at the glowing mark on his hand and noticed how the burning sensation had receded after he closed that rift. _"You mean this mark did that?"_

_"Whatever magic opened the Breach also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized that it could be used to close the rifts made in the Breach's wake, and it seems I was correct."_ His explanation made sense. Strange. From the way this elf dressed and held himself, he was definitely not a Circle Mage, but he spoke with the wisdom of learned and even enlightened man.

_"Meaning it could also close the Breach itself."_ Cassandra surmised.

_"Possibly."_ The elf answered. _"It seems this man holds the key to our salvation."_

_"Good to know!"_ The hairy-chested dwarf boomed. _"And here I thought we'd be ass-deep in demons all day."_ The dwarf casually approached as though they already knew each other. _"Varric Tethras: rogue, storyteller and, occasionally, unwelcome tagalong."_ He winked slyly at the Seeker. Did these two know each other? From the way Cassandra scowled at him, he doubted they were happy acquaintances.

_"Wait a minute."_ Rajmael could barely contain his excitement. _"Varric Tethras? As in 'Wrote the Tales of the Champion' Varric Tethras!? Oh! I must've read your works dozens of times! And that must mean that that's Bianca straddling you."_

_"Ha! Bianca and I are always happy to meet a fan. And she'll be great company down in the valley._" Varric began to stroke his…crossbow in a most obscene manner.

_"Absolutely not!"_ Cassandra denied. _"Your help here is appreciated, Varric, but you are not…."_

_"Have you seen the valley today, Seeker? The only way any of us is getting out of here alive is if you start letting us lowly bystanders pitch in."_

Cassandra grunted in anger, but relented. She didn't want to admit Varric was right.

_"My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions. I studied the mark as you slept, and I am pleased to see that you're alright."_ The elder mage said sincerely.

_"What he really means is, 'I kept that mark from killing you while you were sleeping'."_ Varric informed.

_"And, like you, Solas is an apostate."_ Cassandra notified with a hint of distaste in her voice.

_"A shemlen word."_ Rajmael denounced venomously. _"One used to label a person they don't own or have put on a leash. And at this point in history, it is meaningless."_

_"Well said."_ Solas chuckled._ "Seeker, this man is a mage, but I find it impossible for any mage to possess the power to rip the very fabric of the Veil. Whatever answers we seek, we may find it at the rift closest to the Breach."_

_"Understood. We must get to the forward camp immediately. Hopefully we can close that rift before any more of our people are killed."_

While on their way Varric explained to Rajmael that Cassandra and Leliana were the Left and Right Hands of the Divine, respectively. That they were in charge of gathering information and the forces necessary to convene the Conclave. And apparently, Cassandra's latest task was finding and interrogating Varric about the Champion.

_"So, I'm curious. What's a Dalish elf doing at a Chantry Conclave?"_ Varric asked inquisitively.

_"He came to commit murder and destroy Thedas' only chance for peace. Apparently."_ Cassandra answered spitefully.

Rajmael was getting a little bit tired of this woman's suspicions._ "Oh, I'm sorry, but if I'm truly guilty of killing the Divine, then that means that you're guilty of failing, Seeker."_

_"We were…delayed in Kirkwall."_ Cassandra defended adamantly. _"If we'd have been there sooner I'd have stopped you!"_

_"Aha! So, the Divine's closest agents _conveniently_ get delayed and manage to survive the explosion the destroyed the entire Chantry hierarchy and then show up with a convenient scapegoat already in hand. I dare say, you look as suspicious as I do, Seeker."_

_"Oh! He's got you there, Cassandra."_ Varric laughed.

_"It does seem rather suspicious."_ Solas confirmed.

_"…I see your point."_ Cassandra seethed. There was no point in continuing this argument. They had to press on.

They made their way to the forward camp. The Chantry soldiers here had fortified themselves well enough, but they were losing ground and they knew it. Rajmael saw Leliana arguing with some fat Chantry official.

_"Chancellor Roderick, we must prepare the soldiers for another attack."_ Leliana informed.

_"We will do no such thing!"_ The Chancellor bawked back.

_"The prisoner must get to the Temple of Sacred Ashes! It's our only chance of sealing the rift!"_

_"You have caused enough trouble with your meddling, Sister Nightingale! This exercise is futile, we must retreat."_

_"_**_I_** _have caused trouble?"_ Leliana asked insulted.

_"You, Cassandra, even the Most Holy! Haven't you done enough already!?" _The Chancellor blamed.

Before Leliana could argue any further, her attention was directed to Cassandra with the prisoner in tow. Rajmael didn't give two shits about the chancellor; he only cared that his sword was resting on the table next to him. _"Ah. You made it. Chancellor Roderick, this is…."_

_"I know who this is!"_ Roderick spat. _"As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry I order you to place this elf under arrest to be taken to Val Royeaux to face execution!"_

_"Order _me_?"_ Cassandra huffed indignantly._ "You are a glorified clerk. A bureaucrat!"_

_"And _you're_ a thug."_ Roderick reminded. _"One who supposedly obeys the Chantry."_

_"We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor, you know that perfectly well."_ Leliana reminded.

_"Justinia is dead!"_ Roderick shouted as a matter of fact. _"We must elect a new Divine, and obey her orders on the matter."_

This was an utter mess. This shemlen wouldn't be able to find his own dick if it wasn't attached. _"You humans really can't do a thing without a Divine telling you how to wipe your own ass, it seems."_

_"The Divine would still be here if it weren't for you!"_ Roderick hissed as he turned his attention back to Cassandra. _"Our position is falling, Cassandra. We must call a retreat."_

_"We can stop this before it is too late."_ Cassandra said confidently.

_"How? You won't survive long enough to reach the Temple, even with all your soldiers."_

_"We must get to the Temple, it's the shortest path."_

_"I disagree. That is not the safest course action"_ Leliana said. _"There is another path through the mountains. We can have our forces attack as distraction and make our way through the tunnels. We lost contact with an entire scouting squad, we might be able to save them."_

_"But that's suicide!"_ Roderick denounced. _"Listen to me; abandon this foolish endeavor before more lives are lost. We cannot stay here."_

Another pulse from the Breach shook the earth and Rajmael felt his mark burning once more are it grew again. Something needed to be done immediately.

_"What course do you think we should take?"_ Cassandra finally asked her prisoner.

Rajmael couldn't believe this woman. _"First you're accusing me of murder, now you're asking me for tactical advice?"_

_"You have the mark."_ Solas reminded.

_"You're the one we need to keep alive if we're going to seal that rift. And it seems we cannot agree on our own."_ Cassandra continued.

With the mark on his hand bursting out like wildfire, he only had a moment to decide. "_We will take the mountain pass. Have your soldiers draw the demons away from the rift and we'll come in from behind."_

Cassandra nodded her head in confirmation. _"Leliana, gather everyone that is left into the valley. Everyone. We'll handle the rest."_

_"On your head be the consequences, Seeker."_ Roderick warned.

Rajmael really couldn't stand that well-fed, pompous shem. He approached him in a very threatening manner and could feel the Chancellor's pomposity fade away in the face of a possible threat. Rajmael snatched his sword off the table and flashed the blade at Roderick.

_"This…is mine."_ He growled and then turned from the pompous little man and made his way to the mountain path.

**At the Temple of Sacred Ashes**

They were able to make it through the mountain pass and tunnels safely and managed to save the squadron of scouts before they were killed by more demons. As they made their way closer to the temple, they came across another group of soldiers, fighting desperately to push back the demons, but the nearby Rift kept spewing out more. They were being led by a blonde-haired human who fought with more discipline and experience than most of them. This man was a trained veteran. Rajmael could sense that the man was a Templar.

Rajmael and his newly made companions joined into the fray. One after the other, each of the demons were slain, and Rajamel was once again able to seal the Rift in the Veil.

After everything Cullen had seen and been through, both during the Blight and in Kirkwall, he thought nothing could surprise him any more. But seeing a tear in the Veil spew out demons, then be repaired so easily was definitely a new one. Seeing that the Seeker had survived was a welcome sight. They were going to need some really good sword arms if they were going to seal the Breach.

_"Seeker Cassandra, you managed to seal the Rift. Well done."_ Cullen praised.

_"Do not congratulate me, Commander. Thank the prisoner, it was his doing."_ Cassandra said honestly, if not solemnly.

_"Is it? I hope they're right about you. We lost a lot of good people trying to hold the demons at bay."_ Cullen said seriously.

_"Yeah? Well, coming here wasn't exactly my idea, so forgive me if I am less than enthusiastic to want to be going _towards_ the demons instead of _away_ from them."_ Rajmael said sardonically.

_"Trust me, no one in their right minds is having a good day right now."_ Cullen turned his attention back to Cassandra. _"The way to the temple should be clear now. Leliana will try to meet us there."_

_"Then there is no time to waste. Give us as much time as you can, Commander."_ The Seeker instructed.

_"Maker watch over you all, for all our sakes."_ Cullen prayed.

The commander gathered up one men he had and rallied them into formation. They would hold the demons off here and make sure that they didn't follow behind Cassandra and the others. The only way any of them were going to see the end of the day is if the prisoner sealed the Breach.

**~XoXoXo~**

The Temple of Sacred Ashes was now a smoldering ruin of crushed rubble and petrified, burning corpses. After two thousand years of existing in secret, it was destroyed after merely a decade. That had to sting.

They finally made it to the rift closest to the Breach and Rajmael was in shock and awe at the sight of it. A great burning vortex burning across the worlds of the physical and the spiritual and, splitting the sky as it bled into both sides of the Veil.

_"This is your chance to end this."_ Cassandra finally said. _"Are you ready?"_

_"How in the name of Elgar'nan's flaming butthole am I supposed get up there?" _Rajmael asked satrically.

_"You can't close the Breach, yet."_ Solas answered. _"But this rift was the first, and it is the key to our survival here."_

_"Then we need to get down there as soon as possible."_ Cassandra affirmed. _"Let's go."_

As they approached the rift they noticed that the epicenter of the explosion was covered in a strange, glowing red crystals. Rajmael could feel the magic emanating from them, but it felt different. Dark, sick and…tainted?

_"This is red lyirum, Seeker."_ Varric warned dreadfully. _"What's it doing here?"_

_"I have no answers for you, Varric."_

_"Perhaps the explosion that caused the Breach corrupted the lyrium beneath the temple?"_ Solas suggested.

_"It's evil. Don't touch it!"_ Varric warned.

Another pulse resonated from the rift.

**_"NOW IS THE HOUR OF OUR VICTORY."_ **A powerful voice said as it filled the air. The voice was unfamiliar, but it filled Rajmael with a sense of dread he'd never felt before.

_"What is that?"_ Cassandra gasped.

_"The Fade is bleeding here."_ Solas here. _"We are hearing the memories of what happened here."_

_"Someone help me!"_ Cried another voice. The voice of a woman.

Cassandra couldn't believe her ears._ "That was the Most Holy!"_

They began to see images through the rift, the memory of what happened in the Fade. The Divine was trapped by some unknown spell, crying for aide. Rajmael charged in through the doors, sword in hand. _"What's going on here!?"_

Then they all bore witness to an immense figure whose shadow clouded over all of them. They couldn't see his face, it was as though his very being was made up of darkness with only clawed hands and burning eyes that could be seen._ "We have an intruder."_ The voice said to its invisible cohorts. _"Slay the elf."_ Before they could see anymore, another pulse pounded from the rift and shattered the memory like glass.

_"You _were_ there!"_ Cassandra yelled. _"Who attacked you? And the Divine, is she…? What are we seeing!?"_

_"I still don't fucking remember!" _Rajmael screamed agitatedly. "_Yelling at me isn't going to jog my memory!"_

_"Seeker!"_ Solas called._ "This Rift is closed, albeit temporarily. We must use the mark to open and then reseal it, for good this time. However, such action is likely to draw some very unwelcome attention from the other side. We must be ready."_

_"Understood."_ Cassandra confirmed. She looked to the scouts and soldiers that had gathered. _"That means demons. Stand ready!"_

The scouts and soldiers formed up around the rift swords and bows at the ready.

Cassandra and the others readied themselves as Rajmael stood before the rift, and prayed to Mythal that he could make this thing work. He raised his hand before the rift and felt the mark extend out to it, at was as if the magic of the mark knew his will and reopened the rift. And just as Solas said, something emerged forth from it.

_"Fenhedis'lasa!"_ Rajmael cursed in elven._ "Solas'heral! Pride Demon!"_

A massive demon with a horns seated on its head like an evil crown, and multiple eyes. It was a creature born of heinous pride and vile accomplishment. One of the most powerful creatures in the demon hierarchy with the power to wield lightning. It cackled as it emerged from the rift and gazed at its mortal banquet.

And it didn't come alone. A whole variety pack of demons emerged from the rift, all looking to inflict their destructive nature upon the physical world. Demons of rage, despair and hunger and ash wraiths descended upon the Chantry soldiers, unleashing fire, ice and terror upon their victims.

But amidst the chaos they still managed to hold their ground, in no small thanks to Solas who set up a protective barrier around the soldiers and unleashed dissipating spells that banished some of the wayward demons back to the Fade.

Varric stood on a balcony overlooking the demon-infested courtyard and fired precise volley shots into the demons alongside Leliana and the other Chantry scouts, as well as throwing some well-placed mines and grenades down into the fray.

**_"AHA-HA-HA!"_** The creature bellowed._** "Thank you mortals for granting me such easy access to this realm. It has been ages since I feasted so well!"** _

A spiked-chain of pure energy crackled forth from its giant claws and swung in a wide arc across the entire courtyard.

_"MOVE!"_ Cassandra screamed as she narrowly ducked beneath the lightning whips. Several of her men were not so lucks and were incinerated upon contact.

More demons poured through the rift and engaged all the soldiers in the yard, while the Pride Demon set its sights on Cassandra. She scrambled back to her with her shield raised, but before she could get proper footing the demon smacked her with the back of its claw and hurled her into a wall.

The creature's laugh resonated through its whole being.

**_"Yes, the Right Hand of the Divine and Hero of Orlais."_** It mocked. **_"If your Maker couldn't save your Most Holy, what makes you think He'll save you? Haha-Ha!"_**

Cassandra was completely stunned by the demon's attack. Pride Demons were amongst the most powerful creatures in the Fade. Just touching them could poison you. She had only faced a few of them in her whole life, and even then just one slip up could've cost her life. And right now, it seems she slipped up.

The demon faced its claws together and gathered the energy around it into a condensed ball of pure energy between its monstrous palms. Cassandra tried to pick herself up, but she was still too dazed to move fast enough. The demon launched the sphere of pure lightning from it claws right at her. Cassandra prepared to greet the Maker.

Out of nowhere, a shimmering figure stood between her and the demonic attack. He drew a blade of white fire and deflected the projectile towards the heavens where it exploded into a thousand stars. Sweet Maker, who was that? Cassandra couldn't believe her eyes.

It was Rajmael.

A shimmering shield that glimmered like stars shined around the elf's very being as his liquid golden eyes flared with immense power. His sword was engulfed in an otherworldy white flame that burned gently along the blade. Rajmael assumed his stance and stood his ground against the immensely powerful creature. Was he mad?

**_"Aha-ha-ha!"_** The Pride Demon laughed maliciously. **_"Dirth'ena Enasalin!? Do you think you can challenge my might?!"_**

The flames of Rajmael's sword burned more intensely as he clutched the grip in his hands**_. _**_"I've no intention of challenging you, demon. I'm just gonna kick your ass out of your throat and back into the Fade, where you belong."_

**_"Ah-haha! You amuse me, seth'lin!"_** Rajmael twitched in anger at the mention of that word._ **"Ar enaste ar'tu nadin! I'll enjoy killing you!"**_ The Pride Demon conjured the lightening chains in its claws once more and swung them with immense power at the elfling in front of him.

The Dalish mage flipped backwards at an impossible height and completely evaded the assault. He bounded off the nearby wall and lunged his sword at the demon like a lance and landed a devastating blow to the demon's body. The elf landed on his feet and darted in and out of the demon's reach, evading each clumsy attack and landing a searing cut on the demon's body with alarming speed.

A trumpeting bellow like none of them had ever heard before echoed. A shadow descended down on the Pride Demon, and when it looked to see what dared to approach it, the demon's face and several of its eyes were gouged out by what must have been a dozen spears lanced into its head. The Pride Demon stumbled back, screaming in enraged agony, and it's new assailant landed on the ground. It was Rajmael's white halla, Neirin. His enormous antlers covered in black blood. He stomped his hooves to the ground, ready to assist his elven companion.

_"Neirin! Halani ma nadin elgara!"_ Rajmael yelled in elven.

As if he understood Rajmael's words, the white hart bounded towards the elf. Rajmael leapt onto the halla's back without interrupting his stride. Elf and halla charged down the now half-blinded demon on his vulnerable side. Neirin charged faster and with more force than any Orlesian war horse, and Rajmael rode him like he was born to it, without a saddle or stirrup. Rajmael slashed his flaming sword at the Pride Demon's flanks, cutting deep wounds into its body that spurted out torrents of black blood.

The demon clawed and swung at his attackers, but every time he was able to get his remaining eyes on them, they moved too quickly for him to attack. What felt like a wave of mosquito's stinging it turned out to be those pathetic little mortal firing arrows at it. The demon pounded it's massive claws to the ground and roared an ear splitting cry of rage. The ground shook and the archers were sent flying by its sheer force.

This was taking too long. The Pride Demon was the most immediate threat, but the longer that Rift stayed open, the more demons would surge through it. It was time to end this.

_"Neirin, nada shiral anetha. I'll take care of the rest."_ Rajmael ordered and dismounted his halla. Neirin did as he was bade, and bounded off to safety. Now, it was just him and a pissed off demon the size of a barn that could wield lightning. Rajmael wouldn't have it any other way.

Rajmael waved his sword in wide arcs with incredible grace and precision then threw a wave of white, spirit energy at the demon and sent it stumbling back. The demon's pride had been wounded as badly as its body, and its temper had been lost. It was time to end this annoying gnat. It snapped its claws forward and the lightning chain attack bust forth from its arms. It swung the chains wildly over its horned head then brought it down upon the miserable elf and eliminate it.

The chain shattered into pieces and evaporated into light when Rajmael cut it in half with his sword and perfect timing. He maintained his stance as an aura of power surrounded his whole being, and magic flared through his sword like a crucible. The Pride Demon reared back its powerful claws to rip the miserable elf to shreds.

The powerful swipe should have torn the elven mage in half, but instead the giant claw met Rajmael's sword in a counter-riposte that set the demon's arm aflame with searing white fire. The creature stumbled back, roaring in horrible agony as its arm burned and fell off its loathsome body like a diseased appendage.

The shimmering aura surrounding him intensified and his liquid golden eyes burned with power as he raised his sword towards the sky, a surge of power burst from the blade and a column of white ascended to heaven.

"**ENASALIN!"** Rajmael's war cry resonated through the ruined temple as his sword descended upon the demon and the column of burning magical fire split the demon in two, and sundered it to ashes.

Cassandra couldn't believe her eyes. That elf actually managed to kill a Pride Demon in single combat with a form of magic she didn't even know existed. What in Andraste's name was he?

_"Quickly, now's your chance!"_ Solas cried. _"Seal the rift."_

Rajmael extended his hand and once again felt the mark connect to the magic of rift. He could feel the mark draining him as he tried to close the rift. The last of his energy was spent as he felt the rift close, he fell to the ground once more and blacked out again.

Before Rajmael collapsed on the blood-slicked ground, Cassandra caught him in her arms and gently set him down. The incredible aura that had surrounded him had disappeared and the mark on his hand was now stable. This elf, who they were all ready to execute, had just saved all their lives and granted them victory in this battle.

Cassandra gently removed a few out of place strands from his face and took a few seconds to admire how beautiful his face looked as he rested. When he saved her from that demon, she actually felt her heart skip a beat. Why did she feel this way?

_"What manner of mage is he? That he'd stand alone against a demon of pride with nothing but a sword, and emerge victorious?" _Cassandra asked, still unable to believe what she just witnessed.

_"I believe our mysterious savior is an Arcane Warrior, Seeker."_ Solas answered. _"A very powerful mage discipline from the time of Arlathan. Do you truly believe that providence is not on your side now, Seeker?"_

_"Yeah, I have to admit, a mage fighting a Pride Demon one on one? Not even I could make up something like that."_ Varric laughed as he collapsed Bianca and strapped her to his back.

_"Seeker Cassandra, what should we do with the prisoner?"_ One of the soldiers asked.

_"He is no longer our prisoner."_ Cassandra answered. _"Get him to Apothecary Adan, and see to it he is healed. After all, he just saved all our lives."_ As Cassandra watched as the soldiers carried Rajmael away something fell off his person. She picked it up and discovered that it was some kind of pendant made of brilliant amber with a silver, heart shaped leaf set inside. It was beautiful.

Cassandra held the necklace in her hands, looked towards the ruined sky and wondered. A man with power that none could explain showed up in the nick of time and managed to, not just everyone at the temple and in Haven, but saved her life when all hope seemed lost. Could it be…could it be that this man had truly been sent by the Maker to save them?

**Language Codex:**

**Enalsalin: **Victory.

**Dirth'ena Enasalin:** Translates as Knowledge That Leads to Victory.

**Seth'Lin:** "Thin Blood". A profane elven insult.

**Fenhedis'lasa: **An elven swear word.

**Solas'heral:** Roughly translated as Demon/Nightmare of Pride.

**Ar enaste ar'tu nadin:** I will enjoy killing you.

**Halani ma nadin elgara:** Help me kill this spirit!

**Nada shiral anetha: **Go somewhere safe.

**Author's Note:**

Okay! So I finished my first fight scene with this character. And, surprise! He's an Arcane Warrior! Please tell me what you think.

Also, it must be said, I do not own anything. Dragon Age and all its content are the property of Bioware.


	3. The Inquisition is Reborn

**The Inquisition is Reborn.**

Cassandra and her comrades finally made it back to the village called Haven. Everyone was ecstatic and praised their names, how they saved them all by stopping the Breach. The people at Haven welcomed them as heroes, but Cassandra knew their praise was undeserved. They didn't stop the Breach or even stop the demons. The prisoner did. The man who they were all ready to condemn and execute stopped the Breach from consuming the world. In their darkest hour, this elf was able to save them all from destruction.

Now he was injured, fainted from whatever power the mark on his hand used to stabilize the Breach. After emerging from a Rift, being held prisoner, then being forced to fight demons and stopping the Breach, it was no wonder that he just collapsed. She just hoped that the effects of the Mark and the Breach wasn't killing him anymore.

_"Cullen, bring him in here. Get Apothecary Adan to treat his wounds. And get Solas, as well. I want to make sure that Mark and the Breach are both stable."_ Cassandra ordered.

Cullen did as he was bade. Cullen gently placed the unconscious mage on the bed in one of the smaller homes in Haven. Within moments, Apothecary Adan and Solas showed up, and Varric, too. The dwarf wanted to know what was going on as well.

Everyone who was at the temple waited to her what they could about their mysterious savior's condition. Adan, a healer from the guild, looked at comatose elf with the same grace he would a mangled corpse.

_"I've seen worse, and considering what I heard happened at the temple, I suppose this is an ideal outcome."_ Adan said gruffly. _"Here, help me take these clothes off him so I can get a better look at the damage."_

Cullen and Adan carefully removed the mercenary armor Rajmael had disguised himself in, and they were all shocked by what they saw beneath. The elf's entire torso was horribly scarred. There wasn't an inch of flesh on him that hadn't been marred by some sort of terrible damage done to him. His skin was ditorted and ruined, likely the result of a terrible fire. Overlapping the burns that canvased his body were various other scars that looked like deep cuts. What happened to him?

_"Andraste's flamming arse..."_ Adan gasped in shock.

_"Well, I've lost my lunch."_ Varric said, appalled at the sight.

_"What in the Maker's name happened to him?"_ Leliana asked.

_"Looks as though someone wanted to inflict the most damage they could on him."_ Cullen observed.

Solas looked at the Right and Left Hands of the Divine with an accusing glint in his eyes. _"Seeker, did you...?"_

_"No, we did not torture him."_ Cassandra denied, equally appalled. _"This was not our doing."_

_"Well, someone certainly did, and they definitely didn't like this guy."_ Adan stated bluntly. "_Third degrees burns almost all over his whole upper body. Looks like he's also taken sword wounds and arrow heads. Someone went through a lot of trouble to hurt him. But these scars are all old, probably done years ago. Other than that, he's unharmed. He's a sight better than he was when we first found him, that's for damned sure."_

_"Solas, what about the mark on his hand?"_ Cassandra inquired.

_"The mark is stable now."_ Solas confirmed. "_It's obvious that the Breach and this mark are connected somehow. What happens to one seems to effect the other. Now that the Breach is stable, so is this mark."_

_"When so many others died in the explosion, he lived. When there was no hope of survival, he saved us. I do not believe this to be mere coincidence but neither do I believe that he is responsible."_ Cassandra said fervently. _"We must find out what we can about him."_

_"Well, he is Dalish, that much is obvious."_ Varric pointed out._ "I'm really close friends with one, and used to live in close proximity to a whole clan of 'em. They stick out pretty easy."_

_"Didn't I once hear that Researcher Minaeve was once Dalish?"_ Leliana asked. _"Perhaps she could shed some light on this matter."_

_"Bring Quartermaster Threnn, as well."_ Cullen suggested. _"That weapon he wielded was no common thing. She could know something we don't."_

A few minutes later, both the researcher and quartermaster found themselves in the small cabin, making it more crowded than it was. Both of them looked at the man as curiously as everyone else did.

_"I don't know what I could tell you, Sister Nightingale."_ Minaeve said morosely._ "When my magic manifested, my clan sent me away to fend for myself. I was only seven, and barely knew anything about the Dalish."_

_"Just tell us what you can, Minaeve."_ Leliana insisted gently.

Minave sighed wearily, but did as she was asked._ "Well, if you say he's a mage, then he is lucky enough to be from a clan that had enough room for him, otherwise they would have discarded him, or sent him away. And this vallaslin...these tattoos on his face. They represent Dirthamen, the elven god of knowledge. That's all I know, I'm afraid."_

_"Is it possible to tell which clan he is from by these markings?"_ Leliana asked.

_"No, I don't think so."_ Minaeve answered timidly. _"There a many clans, and they are all widespread. I doubt they all know each other."_

_"Thank you, Minaeve."_ Leliana said gratefully, allowing the young mage to leave.

_"Threnn, is there anything you can tell us about this sword?"_ Cullen asked, handing the weapon to the quartermaster.

The former Fereldan soldier handled the blade with care. Her keen eye carefully inspected the blade, searching for anything that might tell them something about its wielder. _"Well, this is most certainly an elven weapon, there's no denying that. This blade is made of some kind of high quality ironwood, maybe even sylvanwood. And from what I understand, only the Dalish elves know how to make those kind of weapons."_

_"What do you know of these materials?"_ Cullen questioned.

_"As strong as steel, but light as feather. I've heard of smiths who sold their best equipment for only a few branches of it, only to end up doing shit work."_ Thren almost laughed. _"They tried to heat and pound it like metal, only to burn it too much and make it weak. From what I understand, it requires gentle tending and skilled hands to make. Like I said, it's made with techniques only the Dalish elves know."_

_"I see. You may resume your duties, Quartermaster."_ Cullen dismissed. Thren saluted the Commander and resumed her post.

Cassandra held Rajmael's sword in her hands, and examined the weapon that saved her life. It was certainly a beautiful piece of work, there was no denying that. The sylvanwood blade was white as milk with wooden grains elegantly tracing along its edges like the surface of water. She felt the weight of it, and this was without a doubt the lightest sword Cassandra had ever held in her life, yet it was still so perfectly balanced. There were glyphs along the edge of the blade that glowed gently, like starlight against the grains of the blade. At the base of the blade was an inscription, old but still clear, but it was in ancient elven.

_"Solas, can you read the inscription on this blade?"_ Cassandra asked curiously, handing the blade to him.

The elven apostate carefully took the sword and looked at it with a quirked eyebrow._ "I see. So because I am an elf, you assume that I can read ancient elvhen? Quite the naïve speculation, Seeker."_

Cassandra was embarrassed._ "Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't meant to..."_

_"It's alright, Seeker. As it happens, I _can_ read some ancient elvhen."_ Sols examined the sword keenly, doing his best not to miss a detail that might reveal something about the one who stopped the Breach. _"Hmm. This character here reads 'Enasalin'."_

Cassandra recalled that word, she heard it so recently. _"He cried that word when he struck down the Pride Demon. What does it mean?"_

_"It's means '_Victory'_, in ancient the elvhen tongue."_ Solas answered.

_"Back in the Temple of Sacred Ashes, you said that he is an Arcane Warrior. Are they similar to Knight-Enchanters?"_ Cassandra asked.

_"I'm sure if he heard you say that, he might take it as an insult. That's like saying that a lizard is the same as a dragon."_ Solas stated disdainfully._ "The true name of the techniques was _Dirth'ena Enasalin_, _'Knowledge That Leads To Victory'_. Mages who eschewed physical combat called them _'Ghilnan'him banal'vhen'_, _'The Path That Leads Astray'._ While other mages might sneer at their physicality, they could never doubt their honor. They were the living embodiment of will made reality, the mind honing the body into the perfect weapon. Swords, such as these, were the choice of weapons of these elite honor guards, a declaration of what path they followed. I never thought to see such an ancient magical discipline to still exist."_

Solas placed the sword on the table next to its owner. Such a weapon deserved to be in the hands of one who truly knew how to wield it.

_"We should let him rest now."_ Leliana _"He has been through much, and after what he just accomplished, I think he deserves some respite."_

_"Agreed."_ Cullen acknowledged. _"Maker knows that when he wakes up, he's probably going to get more attention than he would like."_

Cassandra took one last look at the sleeping elf before taking her leave with her companions. She still couldn't believe the amount of scars he had on his body. What kind of life did he have? Perhaps whatever information Leliana might uncover during her investigations about him might shed some light on this matter. Cassandra left instructions for the servants to alert her and the others the instant Rajmael woke up.

When Cassandra stepped out of the small cabin, she was surprised to see all the people who had gathered around outside.

_"Seeker Cassandra, is it true what they say? Did the prisoner stop the Breach?"_ A lay sister asked earnestly.

_"Yes, it is true, and he is no longer our prisoner."_ Cassandra confirmed.

_"Seeker, do you believe he was sent by the Maker?"_ The same lay sister asked, hope glinting in her eyes.

_"Yes. I do believe that, more than anything right now."_ Cassandra answered without a shadow of doubt in her voice.

_"But he's an elf. A heathen elf, for that matter."_ A soldier protested.

_"No matter what we are, or what we believe, we are all subjects of the Maker's will."_ Cassandra affirmed adamantly. _"I believe this man was sent to aid us when we were at our most desperate. when we needed a miracle."_

An astounded, ecstatic look washed over the lay sister as this realization came to light. _"Then it's true what people are saying."_

_"That depends. What are people saying?"_ Leliana asked curiously.

_"Sister Nightingale, Seeker Cassandra, don't you see?"_ The lay sister asked rapturously. _"He rose where the Divine fell, was led out of the Fade by the hand of a woman on the other side, and he was blessed with the power to stop the Breach. He's the Herald of Andraste!"_

Excited murmuring and soft praises swept through the crowd like a strong wind. Where there was once so much fear, doubt and uncertainty, there was now renewed faith, hope. Could it be true? Cassandra wanted to believe that it was. The signs were all there. Who else but Andraste's chosen could have saved them just when they needed them most? Who else but the Maker could have protected him where so many others died? Cassandra wanted to believe with all her heart that it was true, that this elf was truly the Herald of Andraste.

**3 Days Later...**

Rajmael's eyes began to flutter open. Where was he this time? Because this whole blacking out and waking up different places was starting to get old. He rose and was surprised to find himself in on a bed and in a room instead of on a hard floor in a cell with chains. This was much more preferable.

A young elven lass walked in carrying some kind of box walked in. _"Oh!"_ She yelped in shock and dropped her package. _"I'm sorry, I didn't know you were awake, I swear!"_

What's her problem? Did he say something in his sleep to frighten her? _"It's alright, da'len. What's wrong, am I that frightening?"_

"_N-no…not up close."_ The elf stuttered, then realized what she said as though she just insulted him. She fell to the floor and kneeled to him in reverence_. "That was insolent of me! Please, I beg your forgiveness, and your blessing. I am just a humble servant."_

Did he have a concussion or did she just call him "my lord"? What the fuck? Why was this woman bowing to him?

"_You're back in Haven, my lord. You've been asleep for three days."_ The young servant explained tentatively_. "They say you saved us all. The Breach stopped growing, like the mark on your hand."_

Rajmael looked down at the mark on his left hand and watched as it glowed gently like a green star in his palm.

"_It's all anyone has talked about for three days."_

He's been asleep for that long? _"Where's my halla? Did he make it back from the temple?"_

_"A halla? N-no, I don't know anything about that, m'lord." _The servant said nervously.

Rajmael wasn't too worried about Neirin. Halla were very intelligent creatures and that one could take care of himself. What Rajmael was worried about was what was going to happen to him. _"So what now? Are those Chantry dogs going to ship me off to be tried?"_

"_I-I don't know anything about a trial, my lord."_ There she was calling him that again_. "Uh, Seeker Cassandra said she wanted me to inform her as soon as you're awake."_

"_And where is the Seeker? I think she owes me a 'thank you'."_

"_In the Chantry, with the Chancellor. 'At once', she said." _The young lady scurried off as fast as she could.

Rajmael got out of bed and noticed the new clothes he was wearing. Who undressed him? Well, hopefully it was that lovely redhead, but Cassandra would have been nice, too. Although, Cassandra would have probably left some bruises behind.

He was relieved to find his sword waiting for him on the table and as stepped out of the small cabin and found that he was in fact back in Haven. The Breach was still in the sky, but at least it wasn't unstable. But that was weirdest part. There were people, a whole mob of humans, standing outside his cabin. At first Rajmael thought they were a lynch mob, but was surprised to see them saluting and even bowing.

Rajmael looked around him to see if there was anyone standing behind him. Nope, no one. Then that means…are these shemlen bowing to him? Well, that was beyond weird. As he walked through the village he was creeped out by the fact that everyone in the village had gathered around to salute and kneel to him, and he couldn't help but wonder if the breach had an effect on these peoples' sanity

He made his way to over to the Chantry, it was only the biggest building in this run-down hamlet so it wasn't hard to find. There was a gathering of Chantry sisters, criers and other minor servants standing outside the two massive doors that led inside_. "Where is Seeker Cassandra?"_

"_Just inside the Chantry, my lord."_ The one of the sisters answered as they all bowed to him.

Chantry servants bowing to an elven heathen? Now Rajmael _knew_ the world had gone completely mad. He could hear the Chancellor and Seeker arguing viciously in the room at the end of the hall.

"_Are you out of your mind, Seeker? That elf should be immediately taken to the capital to stand the trial!"_

"_The Breach still remains a threat! How can you be blind enough to ignore that?"_

"_The elf failed, Cassandra! We don't even know how he even did this in the first place."_

Rajmael decided finally make his existence know to the two arguing parties. Needless to say, neither one of the looked happy.

"_Chain him!"_ Roderick ordered loudly. _"I want him taken to the capital to face trial."_

"_Disregard that, and leave."_ Cassandra ordered with more authority. The two Templars in the room saluted and obeyed.

"_You walk a dangerous line, Seeker"_ The Chancellor warned.

"_The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat. I won't ignore it."_ Cassandra declared.

Rajmael had to admit, Cassandra was pretty cute when she was being aggressive. _"Are you two fighting over me? I'm flattered. But not really."_

"_The Conclave is destroyed and all you can do is make jokes!?"_ The Chancellor's fat face was as red as a tomato. _"You dare…!?"_

"_Watch it, old man."_ Rajmael warned dangerously. _"If you keep fucking with me like this, I'll burn you so badly you'll wish you were never an itch in your daddy's pants."_

"_Enough!"_ Cassandra bade in annoyance.

Sister Nightingale silently approached them. _"Someone is responsible for the destruction of the Conclave. Someone Most Holy did not expect."_ She eyed Roderick with accusation in her gaze. _"Perhaps they died—or have allies who yet live."_

Suddenly it registered in Roderick's fat head. _"__I_ _am a suspect?"_

"_You, and many others."_ Sister Nightingale answered.

Roderick couldn't believe what he was hearing. "_But not the prisoner?"_

"_I heard the voices at the Temple."_ Cassandra reminded. "_The Divine called to him for help."_

"_So his survival? That…thing on his hand. They're, what, a coincidence?" _Roderick asked incredulously.

"_Providence."_ Cassandra corrected staunchly. _"The Maker sent him in our hour of need."_

"_I hate to ruin your little moment of theological inspiration, Seeker."_ Rajmael stated sardonically. _"But these tattoos on my face aren't just for attracting women. I wear them as tribute to my own gods."_

"_Trust me, I've noticed."_ Cassandra confirmed_. "But no matter what you are or what you believe you, are still what we need at exactly the right time we needed it. I won't pretend like that is meaningless."_

"_The Breach remains, and your mark remains our only method of closing it."_ Sister Nightingale continued.

"_This is not for _you_ to decide."_ Roderick growled angrily.

Cassandra pulled something out of a carefully closed box and slammed a thick, heavy book down on the table. The book bore a sunburst eye on the front of its cover and looked beyond ancient. The Seeker glared at the Chancellor with determination and authority in her eyes. _"You know what this is, Chancellor?"_ She asked daringly. He did recognize it. _"A writ from the Divine herself, granting us the authority to act. As of this moment, I, Cassandra Pentaghast, hereby declare the Inquisition reborn."_

"_You cannot possibly…."_ Roderick sputtered with shock.

Cassandra would not be ignored, and she got right in the Chancellor's face with full gusto_. "We will close the Breach, we will find the ones responsible and we will restore Order! With or without the Chantry's approval."_

The Chancellor's face soured like curdled milk. After a brief moment of trying to posture he strutted away in defeat.

Cassandra sighed in exhaustion after Roderick finally left and rested herself against the table.

Sister Nightingale gazed upon that book with mixture of awe and solemnity. _"The Divine's directive: rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who would stand against the chaos."_ She looked to her fellow Hand of the Divine with doubt on her face. _"We aren't ready. We've no leader, no number, and now no Chantry support."_

"_But we must act now."_ Cassandra turned to Rajmael. _"With_ you_ at our side, we must seal the Breach."_

Rajmael grabbed what must have been a rare and priceless tapestry on the wall and looked at it for a second. Then he unceremoniously blew his nose on it, leaving an unsightly stain of snot and mucus on it.

_"Well, I don't know about you the rest of you idiots, but I'm getting the fuck out of here."_ He answered as finished wiping his snot on the ancient piece of art, and brusquely strode out the door.

Cassandra couldn't believe what she was hearing. "_Wait! __Where are you going?"_

"_As far as I can. You shemlen are fucking nuts!"_ Rajmael answered antagonizingly. _"I never should have left my clan!"_

Leliana placed a calm hand on Rajmael's shoulder in the hopes of getting his attention. _"Please, wait. I understand that we haven't endeared ourselves to you, but...agh!"_

Rajmael took exception to Leliana's gesture, and placed the hand that touched him with into a simple but effective and very painful jointlock. _"Let me make something very clear, Ginger-For-Brains: I've had it with shemlen putting their hands on me."_

Leliana winced in pain as the elf brought her to her knees. This elf knew what he was doing, and she didn't resist for fear of having her wrist broken like a twig. Rajmael let go and left Leliana and her now throbbing wrist on the floor as he made his way to the exit.

Cullen placed himself between the elf and the doorway, giving their former prisoner a very unpleased look. Seeing the elf harm on of his comrades did not sit very well with Cullen. And Rajmael was very agitated to see a Templar standing in his way.

_"It's Cullen, right? The guy who couldn't slay the demons by himself?"_ Rajmael taunted. _"Well, let me tell you something: I've had my fill of Templars to last me a lifetime, and the last thing I want is one more of your miserable Order standing between me and what I want, and what I want is to leave. Now, move or I'm going to move you."_

Rajmael's hand firmly gripped his sword, ready to follow through with his threat. Cullen looked over to Seeker Cassandra, and she gave him that look to not engage the elf. Seeing as they wanted to try and convince him to leave, Cullen silently obeyed the Seeker's wish and got out of the elf's way. Rajmael took his hand off his sword, and proceeded to leave.

_"Leliana, are you alright?"_ Cassandra asked concerned.

_"He might have sprained my wrist, but I'll be fine."_ Leliana winced in pain holding her wrist, hoping that was all it was.

_"Leliana, we cannot just let him leave. He is our only method of closing the Breach and all the Rifts."_ Cassandra said urgently.

_"I know, but after holding him prisoner and blaming him for what happened, I doubt he'll be so eager to aid us."_ Lelia replied, rising back to her feet.

_"Yeah, as another guy who had the pleasure of recently being Cassandra's prisoner, I can't say I blame him."_ Varric retorted as he entered the Chantry alongside Solas. _"Trust me, not everyone is as gracious and understanding as I am when it comes to wanting to help their former captors."_

Cassandra grunted angrily at Varric's comments, but she couldn't deny what he said. Were their roles to be reversed, she would probably act the same way.

_"If you wish to have that man's assistance, then you must convince him that this Inquisition of yours is the best course of action. That this is where he can do the most good."_ Solas informed calmly.

_"That will be difficult, seeing as how he's a Dalish elf _and_ a mage. Convincing him to work alongside former Chantry members might be difficult."_ Cullen said realistically.

_"Yeah, well, what ever you're going to do, you'd better do it quick, he's almost out of Haven."_ Varric warned.

The two Hands of the Divine, Varric, Solas and Cullen followed after Rajmael in an attempt to convince him to stay. So far, none of them knew what they could do to persuade him. Dalish elves were famous for rebuking what others told them to do.

"_Wait! Please, wait."_ Leliana pleaded.

"_You can't just leave."_ Cassandra insisted.

"_Sure I can. Just watch me."_ The elf sneered. He whistled a high pitched tune, and a moment later that same magnificent white halla that helped came to his aid back in the Temple of Sacred Ashes bounded out of nowhere and dutifully stood before Rajmael.

"_Please, you're our only way of closing the Breach."_ Cassandra beseeched as she grabbed his arm.

_"I thought I made it clear that you people aren't allowed to touch me, especially you, Seeker."_ Rajmael reminded angrily and yanked his arm away from Cassandra. _"These are shemlen problems. Give me an elven reason to care."_

"_This Breach is a threat to all."_ Cassandra reasoned. _"We must think beyond petty prejudices if we're to survive this crisis."_

"_Bullshit!"_ Rajmael spat. _"When you first saw me in the Temple of Sacred Ashes, Seeker, what did you see?" _

"_I…I saw…"_

"_You saw a heathen piece of shit!"_ Rajmael cursed. _"You saw my tattoos and thought that if there was anyone with motive enough to destroy the Chantry, it would be a Dalish elf. So I must've been guilty. Right?"_

Cassandra averted her eyes unable to answer him.

"_If there's one thing I've learned perfectly well, it's that you Chantry fuckers don't give two steaming shits about elves." _The arcane warrior said truthfully_. "And if this Breach is a threat, then I need to go look after my own people. Not an institution that's famous for demonizing elves."_

_"What do you want me to say? That I'm sorry? Is that it?!"_ Cassandra shouted angrily. _"Yes, I was wrong, I acknowledge that. I also acknowledge that you saved my life back in the temple. I also acknowledge that we cannot do this without your help."_

_"That's sweet of you to say. Really, I'm touched."_ Rajmael said sarcastically. _"But you want to know what I acknowledge? I acknowledge that you swore on your beloved brother Antony's grave that you would let me go. Now, are you going to honor your word, or does your dead brother mean that little to you?"_

Cassandra gritted her teeth and fists clenched angrily. She wanted to grab that elf by his hair and stomp his face in for trying to use her brother against her. But that wouldn't change the fact that he was right. Cassandra swore a vow she held more sacred than even invoking the Maker, one this man knew she couldn't renege on. She had no choice.

_"So be it."_ Cassandra relented bitterly, turning her back to the Dalish elf. _"Go then, if that's what you truly want."_

_"It _is_ what I truly want."_ Rajmael sighed contently and prepared to mount his halla. He was ready to leave this nightmare behind him.

_"That mark on your hand is the only weapon we have against the Breach."_ Leliana said seriously. _"If you leave, then you're damning the rest of us. Think of all the innocents who will perish."_

_"Ha! An Chantry stooge from Orlais wants to talk to about innocents. That's hysterical!" _Rajmael laughed mockingly. _"You have no business talking about innocents, considering that both your empire and your Chantry have trampled on them for centuries!"_

The elf's words stung Leliana, but she couldn't say he was wrong. But she wouldn't be deterred._ "Even if you do leave, whoever truly destroyed the Conclave will probably come after you. We can protect you, otherwise that mark will make you a target."_

_"Oh? Well, then. That's easily remedied."_ Rajmael placed his marked hand on the gate, and with his right hand, he drew his sword, and carefully held the blade of his left wrist. Everyone watched in shock and horror as he raised his sword to chop off his own hand.

"_Mana! Maha lani, da'len!" _Solas yelled in outrage, barely grabbing Rajmael's sword hand in time and stopped his mad intention.

That caught Rajmael's attention. Not the fact that this apostate stopped him, or the fact that he spoken flawless elvhen. It was Solas' magic that Rajmael sensed. There was a serenity to it, like a gently flowing stream that surrounded his whole being. But beneath that stream, Rajmael sensed a deep ocean of something more. It completely captured Rajmael's focus away from severing his own appendage.

Rajmael withdrew his sword and gave Solas his full attention. _"If you've got something to say, hahren, say it."_

Solas let go of the younger elf's hand as soon as he was sure that the so-called Herald wasn't going to attempt to cut off anymore of his body parts.

"_I understand that you have no love for the Chantry. I wouldn't blame any elf who shares your feelings. I know you wish to return to your clan and ensure their safety, but do you truly think that hiding in the wilderness will save them?"_ Solas asked earnestly. _"Listen to me, what they are saying is true. Whoever it was that destroyed the Conclave will know who you are, and they will seek you out. And they will have power the likes of which none of us know. If you leave, you'll only put your clan in more danger. The only way to ensure that your clan will not be harmed by the effects of the Breach is to find a way to seal it, and discover who it was that murdered the Divine."_

Rajmael clenched Neirin's reins in his fists and scowled angrily. He wanted to go home and make sure his clan and Eva were safe. But Solas' wisdom was too profound. Anyone capable of ripping a whole through the very fabric of the Veil and destroy an entire gathering of soldiers, Templars and mages, was someone with great power and resources. Someone who could be a great danger to his clan if Rajmael led to them. He gently grabbed Neirin's reigns and guided him towards the gate_. _

_"Alright, Seeker. I'll help you, but only because the Breach is a threat, not for your god or your wretched Chantry. Once this is over, I'm done, and I'm going back home."_ Rajmael held his hand out to the Seeker.

"_Understood."_ Cassandra said grimly and shook Rajmael's hand. The two of them got off to an ugly start, thanks in no small part to her short temper, but they were going to need to work together if they were to solve this crisis.

_"Now, first thing's first. Is there a place I can get something to eat?"_ Rajmael asked with his hand on his growling stomach. _"I haven't eaten in three days, now I'm starving."_

**~XoXoXo~**

Wow. If Keeper Deshanna had told him that _this _is how his mission would end, Rajmael would've laughed at her until he was blue in the face. Or maybe green. It had been just a day since Cassandra had declared this…Inquisition reinstated. Apparently, it was something big that had something to do with the Chantry's foundation. Great. These Andrastian numbnuts are gonna love having a heathen in their ranks.

Rajmael had finished his first meeting with the War Council, and they were such an eclectic group of people. At first Rajmael thought they were the fashion committee for Orlais' winter season trend, judging from their varied sense of fashion and clothing. These people would do the thankless job of keeping this upstart little operation of theirs going while he would do the heavy lifting out in the field.

Turns out Sister Nightingale, their very capable and very deadly spymaster, was Sister Leliana, the veteran of the Fifth Blight who fought alongside Aedan Cousland himself. It was good to see she was more than just a pretty face and some damned fine legs.

Rajmael was wary of Commander Cullen. As a former Templar he had reservations against seeking out the mages for help. Cullen's presence and his history with the Templar Order made Rajmael very uneasy; his last encounter with Templars cost him and his clan very dearly. But seeing as how Cullen left the Order, Rajmael would reserve judgment. For now.

Josephine Montilyet was as lovely as a summer rain. And he was sure that her lovely looks and personality played an integral part in her role as an ambassador. She was very well accomplished for someone so young, and it wasn't just because she was from Antivan nobility. Politically shrewd, an expert in law and custom of various countries, and an avid linguist. She even knew a little Elvhen. How was someone as beautiful and talented as her not married yet?

They all recommended that he seek out this Mother Giselle about how to address the Chantry. Apparently, the institutional hub of human faith felt threatened by having the people call an elven savage the "Herald of Andraste" and declared the Inquisition as blasphemy. Mother Giselle might be able to help them keep the Chantry off their backs.

With all the weird looks the people of Haven were giving him, Rajmael thought they were being racist at first. Then he learned that after the events at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, people were calling him the Herald of Andraste. Then he realized that they weren't being racist, they were just being morons.

Herald of Andraste? What a load of shit. Just like anything the humans don't understand or want to make suit their agenda, they chalk it up to their absent god and dead prophet to understand it. They couldn't possibly comprehend a Dalish elf, who had his own gods, being blessed by their Maker. That would imply that the elven Creators actually blessed him.

Rajmael decided go outside and enjoy the bracing Ferelden air when Josephine called him over to her little office.

"_Good day, Herald."_ Josephine addressed politely_. "I would like to ask you few questions, if you don't mind."_

"_No, I don't mind, but, uh, this just a little sudden isn't it?" _

Josephine led Rajmael to her little make-shift office and sat down on her desk, and pulled out her clipboard and quill. "_For the sake of the Inquisitions appearance, establishing relationships with the people and understanding where our forces and recruits stand, I need to ask you some questions regarding you personally."_ The ambassador explained.

"_Oh? How personal?"_ Rajmael asked glibly.

"_Well, you see for in order to get people to understand how Andraste's Herald could be a Dalish elf it would help if I knew a bit about you. Your past, your relationships, your religion, that sort of thing." _

_Why is this so important?" _Rajmael asked.

Josephine set her board and quill down and dawned a serious face. _"Has anyone called you knife-ear?"_

What did that have to do with anything_? "Not to my face. Why?"_

"_There have been…rumors." _Josephine continued. _"Rumors regarding you and your people. Ones that could harm the reputation and the positioning of the Inquisition. It would help if I knew more about your people as to put these rumors down." _

Wow. Called the Herald of Andraste for not even a week and already he was infamous_. "It would help if I know what the rumors said about me."_

Josephine winced. _"I do not wish to offend you by repeating such…slander."_

"_Believe me, Lady Montilyet, my own Keeper has called me worse things than knife-ear, and people say shit about elves every day. Hearing new rumors isn't going to make my head explode."_

Josephine exhaled slowly. _"Very well. They say that you worship demons. Burning down entire villages and eating the villagers, then sacrificing the children for blood-magic…Those are just the rumors about your fellow Dalish. I'm too much of a lady to repeat what they've said about you."_

Rajmael twitched irritably. He'd felt the sting of human ignorance his whole life_. "Those rumors are dangerous! The people saying those things are the first ones to gather a lynch mob to start killing elves. I've been fighting such humans all my life."_

_"Sweet_ _Andraste." _Josephine gasped in shock. _"I shall do what I can to quash such drivel, my lord." She promised "It might help if I knew more about you and your beliefs, so the people may understand that you're not truly a threat."_

Rajmael took in a deep breath. _"All right, what questions do you have?"_

"_For starters, you have stated that you are not the Herald of Andratste, does that also mean that you do not believe in Andraste? Or the Maker?" _Josephine inquired curiously.

"_No, I, along with my fellow Dalish, worship the elven pantheon." _Rajmael answered._ "We invoke the names and pray for the favor of each god for different reasons. In my case, I follow Dirthamen, the elven god of secrets, knowledge and fortune."_

"_That's fascinating, it has an air of romance to it."_ Josephine stated excitedly. _"Now tell me, you don't really sacrifice children and virgins to your gods, do you?"_

"_All gods demand sacrifice."_ Rajmael stated truthfully. _"But no, my clan has never killed anyone for our gods, Mythal, the mother goddess of justice condemns such practices. That doesn't stop others from doing it, however."_

_"But you just said that your mother goddess…."_

"_Worshipers of Elgar'nan and Andruil follow a different path."_ Rajmael continued. _"Elgar'nan demands vengeance for every injury, while Andruil demands a great hunt in the form of beast and people, and Ghillisan wants us all to only eat plants and treat the animals with care and respect."_

"_My, that sounds like…a complicated religion."_ Josephine admitted.

"_No more than singing at the top of your lungs for a week to please some dead prophet and her absentee god."_ Rajmael rebuked.

"_That's fair. But moving on, what was life like for your people? What was everyday life?"_

"_Everyday life for us was a struggle to stay alive. We wake up early to collect herbs for medicine. Constantly maintaining the aravels. Hunting can go for days on end. And if it's not the weather or the wildlife trying to kill us, it's the local humans with their Chantry telling falsehoods about the heathen elves."_

Josephine was wide-eyed with surprise_. "That sounds…very difficult. You and your clan must be very close."_

"_The clan is my family."_ Rajmael said almost sadly_. "I left everyone I knew and loved when I went to the Coclave."_

"_Coming from a big family myself, I understand how you feel. You must miss them terribly." _Josephine sympathized.

"_The worst part is I won't be able to keep my promise to the child I'm responsible for."_ Rajmael said absently_. "I'm sure she's angry at me for not being back right now."_

"_The child you're…you have a daughter?"_ Josephine asked surprised.

"_Oh. No, not really. She's my foster daughter." _Rajmael clarified._ "I've been caring for her ever since her parents…died."_

"_I…I see. I'm sure she'd understand that you're doing this for her sake." _Josephine said sympathetically.

"_I truly hope so."_

"_Thank you for your time Herald."_

**~XoXoXo~**

As he walked around the village he decided to try and get to know some of his new companions. Starting with the most important one: Varric Tethras. Ramael's favorite author was sitting by a fire next to his tent in the middle of the village.

"_So, now that Cassandra's out of earshot, are you holding up alright?" _Varric asked honestly. _"I mean, going from the most hated criminal in Thedas to becoming the symbol to an army of the faithful? Some people wouldn't know how to take that."_

Rajmael looked up towards the Breach. _"Well, seeing as there's a giant anus in the sky crapping out demons and I'm the one who has to wipe it, I'd say I'm shitty. Pun not intended."_

"_Ha! I know the feeling. I've lived in Kirkwall most of my life, I've seed just about every kind of weirdness you can think of."_

A wave of giddiness washed over Rajmael as he eagerly pulled his copy of The Tales of the Champion out of his satchel_. "Varric, please, can you autograph my book? I am such a huge Hawke fan!"_

"_No shit?"_ Varric laughed. _"Even amongst the Dalish, Hawke and I got fans." _

"_I gotta know, is it true what they said about Hawke?"_

"_Which part? The part where he fought the Arishok in single combat, the part where he slew a High Dragon in the Bone Pit, the part where he stood with the Mages against Knight-Commander Meredith?"_

"_The part where he's a polygamist who fights alongside the women he sleeps with."_

"_Oh. That part."_ Varric chuckled. _"Well, it's not completely true, polygamy would imply that he was married to Merrill and Isabella, but he's not. He just loves them both differently, and they don't seem to mind that he's a horn-dog."_

Rajmael took a moment to imagine what Hawke's love life must be like, escpecially as he remembered some of those smut novels involving him, and felt a little envious. _"How does he do it?"_

"_Hawke had enough love in his heart for all the women in his life. His mother, Bethany, Merrill and Isabella had his love in equal but different measures." _

Varric continued on and told the Herald about the fate of the rest of Hawke's companions. How they all followed their own obligations and callings during this crises, and how, as far as Varric knew, were still alive. _"What happened to the mage who destroyed the Chantry? Why did Hawke let him live."_

Varric sighed uncomfortably. That was a very painful subject for him. _"I…I don't really know. I'd never seen Hawke so pissed before, I thought he'd kill Anders right on the spot, but he didn't. I guess he thought the death was too easy for Anders and wanted him to suffer the consequences rather than become a martyr."_

"_Do you think Hawke would be able to help us now if he were here?"_ Rajmael asked earnestly.

"_Truthfully? I don't really think so."_ Varric admitted sadly_. "Hawke's a great hero, a Champion, but this world has never lacked for those. I think if we're going to make it through this, we're going to need a sodding miracle."_

"_Thanks for your time, Varric."_

"_Don't mention it. One thing though."_ It was Varric's turn to ask something. _"Merrill and I were really close friends, and I interracted with the Dalish more often than not, I'm curious. What's up with your accent? It sounds more like Free Marcher than Dalish."_

"_That's because I wasn't born amongst the Dalish. I didn't find my place with them until later in my life."_

"_Really? Sounds like there's a story there. Care to share?"_

"_Sure. If you tell me how Bianca got her name."_

"_Oh, would you look at the time. I gotta go look over the Merchant's Guild's quarterly revenues."_ They both laughed and went about their business.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael went over to the tent where Leliana conducted her trade by directing their scouts and spy network. But instead of coordinating spy efforts or reading scout reports like he was expecting, he was surprised to find her kneeling in her tent reciting a forlorn prayer. Why did she seem so upset? Was it her wrist? He didn't tweak it _that_ badly.

"_Blessed are the peace keepers, the champions of the just. Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood, the Maker's will is written."_ Leliana paused ceased her praying. _"Is that what you want from us? More blood? Is that the only way you make Your will known?"_ Leliana's attention turned toward the Herald when she finally took notice of his presence, her eyes filled with bitter hope. _"You speak for Andraste, no? What does the Maker's prophet have to say about all this? What's his game?"_

"_His game?" _Rajmael repeated confused.

"_You have seen the sky? What about the ruined Temple that housed Andraste's Ashes? I walked those halls with the Hero of Ferelden when he slew the false Andraste that slept there to reclaim the Holiest of Holies. And The Maker just let it be destroyed along with everyone inside, even the Most Holy, his most devout servant. What else could this be but a game or a sick joke?"_ Leliana looked as though she were on the verge of tears.

Poor, sweet, naïve Leliana. Desperately looking for answers from a god who has always been silent_. "I'm sorry, Leliana. But I know nothing of your Maker."_

"_Heh. For years I have tried to live by the Maker's word, and even after everything Justinia and I gave Him, He still doesn't answer."_ The brokenhearted Sister lamented. _"The Chantry teaches us that Maker abandoned us, the he demands our repentance. He asks for everything, our lives and our deaths. You're lucky to not have such a god to appease."_

"_Meh. Not quite so lucky, Leliana." _Rajmael admitted jokingly. _"I have nine gods to answer to, and all of them want something different. You're lucky to need only one god."_

"_If any god doesn't intervene when their most devout are in need what good are they?"_ Leliana paused for a moment and realized she sounded just like Aedan. But for the first time in her life, she believed Aedan's disdain for religion was right. _"I used to believe that I was chosen, that by serving the Divine and the Chantry I was doing the Maker's work. But in the end, serving Him meant nothing."_

As much as Rajmael despised the Chantry and the word of the Maker, he couldn't stand to see Leliana so sorrowful. Nethras always did say he was soft. _"You may not believe this Leliana, but I am religious man, too. And there have been times I wanted to curse my gods for not helping me when I needed it. I've learned early on that when bad things happen it's not because the gods don't care, it's because people don't. And the only time evil wins is when good people stop caring."_

Leliana wiped her eyes and regained her composure. _"Forgive, me. I shouldn't have let you see me such a state. It was a moment of weakness. It won't happen again. I must get to work now, excuse me."_

Rajmael could feel her trying to bury her emotions. He knew that kind of look she had all too well, it used to be a face he carried with him every day. He wanted to help her_. "I heard you were a bard, you must have stories to tell."_

"_None that would probably interest you, my lord."_ Leliana evaded as she tried to keep her eyes on the papers in front of her.

"_You said you fought at the Hero of Ferelden's side."_ Rajmael reminded. _"That story has a great deal of interest to me."_

"_Ha! Yes, I suppose that would be considered an interesting story."_

"_Please, tell me about the Hero of Ferelden."_

"_He was not what I would have expected in a man who would become a hero when I first met him. What did he say about me when I first saw him? Oh, yes. He said I was a few cards short of a full house."_ Leliana gazed upwards as she remembered her adventures during the Fifth Blight_. "He was…ruthless, uncompromising and completely bloodthirsty, possessed of a rage and need to kill I thought only existed in tales of terror. I saw him kill people in such...horrible fashions, some of the things he did were monstrous. And he had nothing but disgust for religion."_

"_Wow. He sounds like a more like a barbarian." _Rajmael observed.

"_He would take that as a compliment."_ Leliana chuckled. _"But…he was also the most honorable man I ever met. He loved his country more than anything, as far as he was concerned, Ferelden is his god. And he would stop at nothing to help his countrymen and his friends. He had war cry that could shake mountains and inspire armies. He was capable of horrible vengeance and fearsome passion."_

"_So he's a patriot." _Rajmael guessed.

"_Patriotism isn't strong enough to describe the way he loved his homeland, but it's the only word that I can_ comprehend." Leliana looked towards the sky and remembered her time with the Hero._ "He had tattoos on his just as you do. A symbol of his Fereldan pride, he told me."_

Rajmael's hand glided down his face over his own tattoos_. "My vallaslin is in dedication to Dirthamen. My patron god."_

"_I think you two would have gotten along wonderfully. If you could get past how scary he is."_ Leliana laughed.

"_Where is he now?" _Rajmael asked deeply curious.

"_He stopped answering my letters some time ago, and then disappeared."_ Leliana answered sorrowfully. _"But if the Archdemon couldn't even kill him, then I have no need to worry. I'm sure I'll hear from him again."_

"_Well, I hope your time serving with me will have the same results as when you served with the Hero of Ferelden."_

"_I'm sure you'll reach the same level of greatness as Aedan Cousland of Highever, Rajmael."_ Leliana said sincerely. _"But with less cannibalism, I hope."_

Cannibalism? Was that what he heard? _"Wait. What did you just say?"_

"_Nothing!"_

Rajmael decided to leave before he asked something he didn't want the answer to. Aedan Cousland sounded more like a demon than a man. He dreaded to think what would happen to the Templars and mages if that guy was in the country.

**~XoXoXo~**

The Herald made his way over to Solas who was gazing intently at the Breach as though he were studying it. Now was as good a time as any to speak with his fellow elf.

"_The Chosen of Andraste, a blessed hero to save us all."_ Solas addressed wryly.

"_Trust me, it's not a name I would have chosen."_ Rajmael dismissed_. "The humans put a label on anything that gives them comfort and believe in it as if it were actually true."_

"_True, though I fear you now have little choice in what they believe to be true."_ Solas stated as he looked off into the distance. _"In my travels I have ventured into the Fade by visiting ancient ruins, and have watched legions of spirits reenact every kind of battle they have witnessed. I have seen the memories of the bloodiest battles as empires and kingdoms rose and fell. In every great war there is always heroes who champion their cause. I am simply curious as to what kind you'll become."_

"_One who continues to walk my own path, even as others try to steer me down one that suits their ideas." _Rajmael answered.

"_A noble sentiment, but sadly, one that is not easily fulfilled."_ Solas said almost regretfully. _"I am curious, if I had not spoken out, would you truly have cut your own hand off?"_

_"For the freedom to determine my own life, to make my own decisions? Oh, yes. One hand is a small price to pay, especially when others have given up more."_ Rajmael answered truthfully.

_"You would give up such an incredible piece of magic so willingly, without even truly knowing what it is capable of?"_ Solas asked, the disapproval in his voice was obvious.

_"There are others who have given up more than that for their freedom, and they did so willingly, Solas. I have been struggling for my own freedom my whole life." _Rajmael lectured. _"I will not be a slave, and I won't be someone else's tool and serve their purpose against my will. So losing a hand is a small price to pay for the one thing my people love and value the most."_

_"Hm. Most people would gladly use such a power to raise themselves above others, to make themselves more important. Very rarely does anyone so readily give up a power that would otherwise make them no different from others. It is...refreshing."_ Solas said, with the faintest hit of admiration in his words. Solas looked at the sylvanwood sword strapped to Rajmael's hip and quirked an eyebrow, intrigued. _"Your magic is that of the Arcane Warrior? I never thought to see such a discipline in the living world."_

"_And you're somniari. I have yet to see such a rare ability." _Rajmael pointed out.

"_It is…good to see such magic still alive. I thought it to be extinct, it's only reminisce to be found in the Chantry's Knight-Enchanters. Which makes me curious, how did you learn it?"_

Rajmael paused for a moment as he remembered every painful lesson, the harsh discipline and thousands of hours in meditation he spent just trying to comprehend this power. Not to mention all the times Keeper Deshanna kicked his ass. _"Through intense and extremely painful training and focus. The sword I wield has been with my clan since before the foundation of the Dales. I chose to revive this knowledge to pass it on to our people."_

"_And what do you think they could possibly do with such knowledge? Do you honestly think the elves could possibly appreciate anything you have to teach them?"_ Solas' tone was almost scornful.

"_The pursuit and learning of knowledge should be its own goal and reward."_ Rajmael answered argumentatively. _"You have knowledge that is invaluable, Solas. You could pass it on to our people."_

"_Our people?"_ Solas asked disdainfully. _"You say that so casually, but it should mean more. The Dalish have forgotten that."_

Rajmael really didn't like other talking smack about his people to his face, especially other elves. That really pissed him off. _"You got a problem with the Dalish?"_ he asked with a hint of anger in his voice.

"_They are children."_ Solas scorned. _"Acting out stories misheard and repeated wrongly a thousand times. While I have walked the Fade and seen true history face to face. The elves in the Alienages care nothing for history, or improving their lives. While the Dalish are content to just live in their ruins."_

Okay, that was it. Rajmael wasn't going to let Solas insult his people. He needed to be schooled. _"And you think with your hoarded knowledge that you have the right to judge us? Tell me this Solas, have you ever had the lives of others, or even loved ones depend on you?"_

"_I…no." _Solas answered flatly.

"_Have you ever had to work to treat an outbreak of fever while listening to the sick and the dying beg you for help? Not in the Fade or spirits pretending to be ill, but actual dying people?"_

"_No."_

"_Have you ever delivered a baby with your own hands and listened to her cries as you placed her in her mother's arms?"_

"…_.No."_

"_Then you don't really know what the fuck you're talking about, hahren!"_ The younger elf yelled_. "Not only are we trying to keep what precious little is left of our history, we're trying to survive in a world that despises and vilifies us. And don't __ever__ think of me as some ignorant child. I've lived on both sides of elven society, I know better than most what elves go through."_

"_Spoken like a true follower of Dirthamen."_ Solas observed, actually impressed. _"Ir'abela, da'len. I am sorry. For all my talk of knowledge and wisdom, it seems I've overlooked my own ignorance. At least you are trying. That is more than most."_

"_Apology accepted, hahren. But the only way elves will ever reach the greatness you see in the Fade is when elves like you and me stop looking at our people and see only barriers and differences."_

"_You make that sound so simple. I admire your idealism, but I prefer to remain pragmatic."_ Solas admitted. _"You have chosen a difficult path. I hope you walk it well."_

Solas watched as his fellow elf walked away towards the training yard. It had been…a very long time since someone talked down to him like he was the ignorant one, but Rajmael did it well. Perhaps the Dalish were not as ignorant or foolish as he thought. Only time would tell if this one of theirs was truly worth following.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael made his way outside the gates of Haven and saw all the volunteers and recruits practicing diligently in the courtyard. Their form and technique was strong and there was a lot of discipline in their movements. The whole yard was filled with the sounds of men yelling, screaming, and clanging of steel hitting steel and cutting wood. They trained with full force and devotion.

"_They're doing well, don't you think?"_ Commander Cullen asked as he stood next to Rajmael to observe the men's training.

"_Hmm. Not bad. For a bunch of farmers and pilgrims turned_ _conscripts." _Rajmael observed. _" With any luck they'll put up a fight."_

"_Yes. That's exactly what I've been hoping for."_ Cullen looked down and noticed the sword strapped to the elf's hip. _"I see that you carry a sword, but Cassandra told me that you're a mage."_

"_Yes, I am a mage that also carries and wields a sword. If you think that makes me an even greater threat, Cullen, then you're right."_ Rajmael answered sardonically. _"I'm sure lady Cassandra can attest to that."_

"_I've never heard of such magic outside of the Knight-Enchanter's who serve the Divine."_

Rajmael cringed at the mere mentioning of that word. "_Pretentious usurpers using diluted techniques stolen from my people. They are nothing compared to me. I have used techniques and practices that the Templars would stamp out."_

"_Well, at least you're confident about that."_

"_You didn't seem all that thrilled to recruit the mages."_ Rajmael snorted disdainfully. _"Is my being a mage going to be a problem, Commander?"_

"_No." _Cullen sighed dismally. _"Nor do I intend to endanger you or any other mage. I don't approve of what the Order has done, that I'm here is proof of that. This Breach is far direr than any blood mage or cruel Templar."_

"_And after the Breach has been sealed?"_

"_I was in Kirkwall when the mages rebelled, I've seen the devastation they can cause."_ Cullen answered. _"But I admit I have had…extreme prejudices. And after what I saw Knight-Commander Meredith do to the Order I lost my faith in the Chantry. I merely wish to see the order rebuilt for the right reasons and not carry centuries of prejudice with us."_

Rajmael cringed angrily. _"I've had my own experiences with your Order, Cullen. The last time I encountered members of your Order, your holy brothers and sisters killed the two members of my clan because they wanted to drag their daughter off to a Circle. So you'll have to forgive me if I'm somewhat biased when it comes to your Order."_

"_I know the Order has done terrible things, it's why I left them to begin with."_ Cullen said regretfully. _"Cassandra came to with the offer to train and lead the Inquisitions forces I took it. The Chantry lost control of the mages and Templars years ago. Now they argue amongst themselves while the Breach threatens us all. We can't afford to let our own biased opinions dictate this Inquisition."_

"_I doubt that the Chantry will just let us walk around and solve the world's problems without their consent, especially since you people have declared an elf to be the Herald of Andraste."_

"_That's why we need to seek out Mother Giselle and get a sense of how large a threat the Chantry can be to us."_

"_You've put a lot of thought into this, Commander." _Rajmael observed.

"_I was a Templar most of my life, and after what happened to me at the Circle in Ferelden I became was very bitter. I shoved my frustrations out on mages, sometimes without cause. That was unworthy of me. Perhaps here I, all of us, can accomplish what the Chantry failed to do. We could….Forgive me. I'm getting ahead of myself. There is still so much for us to do."_

"_Commander!" _One of the lieutenants saluted. "_Here is Ser Rylen's report on our supply lines."_

Cullen chortled in his throat. _"As I was saying."_ He glanced over his lieutenant's report as he continued to supervise the soldiers' training."

**~XoXoX~**

As Rajmael walked through the training yard he noticed Cassandra over at one of the training dummies. From where he stood he had a perfect view of her taught, heart shaped ass in motion. It was hypnotizing.

As Cassandra was beat the training dummy like it insulted her, Rajmael rubbed his cheek where she planted that powerful right hook of hers. She hit harder than Keeper Deshanna and almost as hard as Evanura did. Evanura…now she was a woman who knew how to hit a man where it hurt, and how to hit a man and make him like it. She and Cassandra were almost kindred spirits.

Rajmael finally approached Cassandra with a little smirk on his face. The Seeker planted one last powerful strike on the dummy and clove the faux opponent in twain when she finally noticed the supposed Herald. She grunted in frustration as she pulled her sword out of the murdered dummy.

Rajmael could see she was troubled, and he couldn't blame her. Maybe he could defuse some her anxiety with some of that charm he used on her when they first met. _"You're sort of a one-woman army, aren't you, Seeker?"_

"_When I need to be."_ She responded disinterestedly.

"_Its quiet impressive."_

"_You flatter me." _Cassandra observed.

"_There's no flattery in stating the obvious, Cassandra. If I wanted to flatter you, I'd comment on how fine your ass looks while you're training."_

Cassandra went as stiff as a board as a slight blush crept across her cheeks at that comment. She tried to maintain her aloof composure by continuing to attack the dummy, but the blush on her cheeks remained.

"_Did I do the right thing?"_ Cassandra asked trying to remain serious and move the subject away from her ass. _"What I have set in motion here could destroy everything I have devoted myself to my whole life. They write of me as a traitor, a madwoman and blasphemer, and they may be right."_

"_It really bothers you how the Chantry is reacting, doesn't it?"_

"_Yes." _Cassandra sighed sadly. _"I have devoted my whole life to the Chantry because I thought I was serving something righteous, honorable, something that did the Maker's work. Then it fell apart, the world plunged into chaos because we couldn't stop it. Now the Breach threatens the world and all the Chantry can think about is hobbling us because they fear you instead of looking for whoever destroyed the Conclave."_

Cassandra resumed striking the dummy. Pounding it with all her might as if she was trying to beat her fears away.

"_You chose to stand and do something while others chose stand around with their thumbs up their collective asses and played the blame game."_ Rajmael reminded.

"_Perhaps, but still, I am not sure that I made the correct choice. My trainers used to always tell me 'Cassandra, you are too brash. You must think before you act.' I never saw the point of acting cautiously or taking the long way around things. I see what must be done and I do it."_ The Seeker stopped her striking and hung her head. _"But I misjudged you when we first met. I saw what I thought was an obvious threat and treated you thusly, no different than what the Chantry is doing right now."_

"_Wait a minute."_ The elf said smiling. "_Is this your way of saying you're sorry?"_

"_Yes."_ Cassandra admitted somberly.

"_I'm sorry…but I didn't quite hear you."_ Rajmael said sarcastically as he cupped his pointed ear and cocked it towards Cassandra with a wide grin on his face. _"Could you repeat that?"_

"_I'm sorry that I ever mentioned it to you."_ Cassandra answered offensively.

Rajmael laughed teasingly, but when he saw that uncertain scowl on her face he stopped. _"Cassandra, when circumstances rise and chaos falls, all we can do is act." _

Cassandra paused her assault on the practice dummy. Those words actually made her feel a bit at ease. "_Is that an elven proverb?"_

"_Actually, I'm quoting Aedan Cousland."_ Being a follower of Dirthamen, Rajmael had read and learned of wise and accurate quotes from many historic and famous people. Aedan Cousland was certainly someone worth knowing about.

"_I guess the Hero of Ferelden is wiser than I thought. He certainly accomplished enough to be considered so."_ Cassandra smiled at Rajmael's advice. She felt like resuming her drills, but there something else that drew her attention away from that. _"It occurs to me that I don't know much about you."_

Rajmael quirked an eyebrow. _"Well, what do you want to know?"_

_"I'm...not sure. Where are you from?"_ Cassandra asked, curiously trying to learn more about their mysterious Herald.

_"And here I thought you might know something about me by now."_ Rajmael assumed.

_"I suppose I could ask Leliana. She's been trying to gather information on you since your actions at the temple. But I don't want to ask her, I want to hear it from you."_ Cassandra said honestly.

Seeing that Cassandra was being sincere without the hostility, Rajmael supposed there was no harm in giving her a straight answer for the first time. _"My clan, Clan Lavellan, never stayed in one place for too long, though we primarily roamed the Free Marches. I've seen the lands from the Tirashan Forest to the end of the Minanter River, and all points in between. That's how I knew you were from Nevarra, judging by your accent."_

_"Truly? I did not think your people traveled that far north, but I see that I'm clearly mistaken."_ Cassandra paused for a second, and decided she was curios enough to ask her next question._ "You made it painfully clear that you didn't want to stay here, do you truly wish to return to your clan so badly?"_

The cocky grin Rajmael had on his face melted away, leaving a bitter grimace behind. _"Yes. I want that more than anything. The clan is my whole life, and compared to that, my left hand is a small price to pay to be able to go home."_

_"Well, I...hope that you can one day, when this is all over."_ Cassandra said sincerely, a small pang of guilt stabbing at her. She believed in duty above all else, but she never believed that duty should come at the cost of others. _"I can see that you love your home very much. I wish that I could say the same about mine."_

_"Why not? Don't you have a home to return to?"_ Rajmael asked curiously.

_"That is...hardly important, I assure you."_ Cassandra tried to brush off.

_"So you can ask me personal questions, but I'm not allowed to know anything about you? Hardly seems fair, don't you think?"_ Rajmael pointed out.

_"Very well..."_ Cassandra sighed in frustration. It was deeply annoying for her, but she couldn't deny what he said. If he was willing to speak of himself, she should have the courtesy of doing the same. _"My name is Cassandra Pentaghast, daughter of the Royal House Pentaghast of Nevarra and seventy-eighth in line for the Nevarran throne after my uncle King Markus Pentaghast. I joined the Seekers of Truth at a young age, and remained with the Order until they withdrew from the Chantry. I remained as the Divine's Right Hand, carrying out her orders to recreate the New Inquisition. Now, here we are. That is all there is to know about me."_

_"Wait, you mean to tell me that you're a princess?"_ Rajmael asked half disbelieving and half amused.

_"The Pentaghasts are a large clan, half of Cumberland could claim the same relations."_ Cassandra said disinterestedly.

_"I assume you're joking?"_

_"I wish that I were. I have literally hundreds of relatives so distant that they need charts to prove that they are even members of House Pentaghast, whether by blood or by marriage. And they have them. Oh, yes. With the way they valued their precious blood, you'd think it was running with gold."_ Cassandra grimaced just talking about her family, like she had nothing but contempt for them.

_"I take it from your tone that you are not that found of your own family?"_ Rajmael observed.

_"I don't visit them on Wintersend if that's what you mean."_ Cassandra replied disdainfully.

Now Rajmael was even more curious. How could someone whose name guaranteed her every thing in the world speak of such opportunities with such scorn and disdain? _"I would think most people would be grateful to be from such a house. At least you weren't born in Alienage."_

_"At least in an Alienage every member of the family does something, instead of lazing around like they own the world."_ Cassandra balked scornfully. _"The Pentaghasts were once famous for being dragon hunters, but hardly any pursue the craft. Most are content to give empty words to the Maker, and care only for idle pleasures while living off past glories and getting fat. My brother was the only thing that kept me in Nevarra. Once he was gone, so was I."_

_"You mentioned your brother earlier. What happened to him?"_ Rajmael asked curiosly.

_"I would...prefer not to speak about him."_ There was a note of sorrow in Cassandra's voice.

Rajmael could see the sadness in Cassandra's eyes at mentioning her brother. It was a sorrow he was also familiar with, and now he felt guilty for making her swear on his name earlier. _"For what it's worth, I am sorry about your brother, and what I said earlier."_

_"Thank you. I truly do appreciate it."_ Cassandra said gratefully.

_"So you left your homeland and your family to find a sense of purpose with the Chantry?"_

_"That was part of the reason, yes."_ Cassandra admitted. _"I felt that I had an obligation to do more with my life than what many of my family members were doing, and serving the Chantry gave me a sense of clarity and duty that gave my life meaning. In serving the Chantry, I felt I was doing my duty to the Maker."_ Cassandra paused for a moment, and considered her next question carefully. _"You said earlier that you don't believe that you were chosen. Does that mean that you also don't believe in the Maker?"_

Rajmael glided his hand over his facial tattoos once again, as if he was trying to get Cassandra to see what was so plainly there._ "I would think that these markings on my face would make my spiritual devotion quite clear. I am a Dalish elf, Cassandra. I worship the gods of my ancestors, and all eight of them want something different."_

_"And amongst all these gods of yours, there isn't room for one more?"_ Cassandra asked insistently. _"One who might offer you hope?"_

Rajmael's right hand unconsciously began to rub his left arm as he remembered the horrible agony that once dwelled there. _"No, Cassandra." _He answered grimly._ "Your Chantry made it abundantly clear a long time ago that your Maker has no room for _me_."_

"_I…I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."_ Cassandra confirmed disappointedly. The Chantry was not known for treating the elves kindly. _"I suppose it doesn't matter. I have to believe that you are here for a reason. Now it just remains to see where that path leads us."_

_"Now, maybe you could satisfy my curiosity, Seeker."_ Rajmael had already answered her questions, now it was her turn. _"After everything that has happened, after turning their back on you, do you honestly think that the Chantry is worth saving?"_

Cassandra faced Rajmael and noticed the deathly seriousness in his eyes. This was something he really wanted to know. It was something she herself had been contemplating, but in her heart she knew there was only one answer. _"Yes, I truly do think so. Though, I can understand how someone born outside human society might think otherwise."_

_"No. You truly can't."_ Rajmael retorted grimly. _"You, an ardent servant of the Chantry, and a Nevarran Royal to boot, are incapable of understanding what it's like for those of us born outside human society."_

_"That...is fair to say."_ Cassandra admitted apprehensively. _"I cannot say I know what it's like to live in an Alienage, or how a dwarf struggles here on the surface, but I do know the best the Chantry has to offer."_

Rajmael snorted disbelievingly. _"Given the state of the world right now, and the Mage-Templar War, I would doubt the Chantry's ability to offer anyone anything."_

Cassandra shot a disapproving glare that could shatter stone at Rajmael. His comments touched a raw nerve throughout Cassandra's pious being. However, given the harsh treatment the elf received from them in the beginning, and given what the Chantry has done, Cassandra could hardly blame anyone for questioning the worth of anything that had failed them.

_"While you may have no love for the Chantry, the world will not benefit from its fall. Cast the Chantry aside and new problems will replace the old ones, we will have learned nothing from our mistakes. Andraste had a dream for us, for the whole world. It can still be achieved."_

_"You actually believe that, don't you?"_ Rajmael asked skeptically.

_"With all my heart."_ Cassandra answered truthfully.

_"Given the history between my people and the Chantry, you'll forgive me if I don't believe that."_ Rajmael stated.

Cassandra sighed wearily. _"I know it seems like humans are only ever the villains of history, but it's not always that way."_

_"Actions speak louder than words, Cassandra."_ Rajmael said the words in the same manner Cassandra's teachers once did._ "And I have yet to see that being even remotely true."_

_"Then I will simply have to prove it to you."_ Cassandra determined. She turned her attention back to the dummy and finally resumed her drills.

As much as Rajmael wanted to keep standing there and picture what Cassandra's taught, athletic body must look like under all that armor, he decided it was probably time for him to get some training of his own in before he had to go find Mother Giselle.

**~XoXoXo~**

Roughly an hour passed since her conversation with Rajmael, and Cassandra decided to take a breather. She sat herself on the steps leading to the village. She was sweating like mule from letting out her frustrations out on those training dummies; Josephine was going to need to procure some more after what she did to them. Cassandra reached into her pocket to find her handkerchief but instead found that she still had that pendant Rajmael lost. A wave of guilt washed over her as she looked at the beautiful necklace. She liked how the heart-shaped leaf seemed to sparkle inside the amber gem when light passed through it, and admired the intricately woven elven pattern etched on the back of the pendant. She never took the time before to realize what beautiful things the elves were capable of making.

Cassandra had to return it. Now where did that elf go? She last saw him walking away from the village to a nearby valley. What was he doing all by himself? Cassandra made her way over there and followed the tracks he left behind. When she made it over to the valley she found Rajmael sitting in the snow, naked.

Well, half naked at least.

Rajmael was sitting in the snow in a meditative stance, and that shimmering aura surrounded him while his facial tattoos were glowing. Cassandra was shocked as she looked closer at Rajmael and saw how scarred his body was. A horrible burn scar cloaked itself over his entire upper body, as if something set him on fire. Was it an accident with magic? Various other scars that looked like they came from sword blades and arrowheads overlapped his burns and marred his otherwise beautiful body. What happened to him?

Cassandra's shock was suddenly replaced with awe as she witnessed the aura around Rajmael glow with greater intensity and flowers began to bloom around him in the middle of the snow. What manner of magic did he possess that he could even bring flowers to life in this frozen tundra?

Cassandra unconsciously pressed against a nearby tree as Rajmael suddenly jumped to his feet with his sword in hand. His movements were so fast his blade was like a white streak in the air. Every move, every stroke and cut was made with remarkable speed and precision. One draw, one strike, one kill. His style was completely new to Cassandra. Was it an elven style of martial arts?

_"Enjoying the scenery, Seeker?"_ asked a quiet voice out of nowhere.

Cassandra almost jumped. She was so focused on Rajmael she didn't notice Solas' approach. _"What are you doing here?"_

_"I could ask you the same thing, and the answer would be obvious. We're both observing the Herald exercise, or so it would seem."_

_"No!" _Cassandra denied._ "I am…merely here to return something that belongs to him."_

_"Well, I'm sure he'd appreciate that."_ Solas smiled.

_"Why do you feel the need to see him?"_ Cassandra balked.

_"I've seen…the memories of the Arcane Warriors who served the Ancient Elves. Their skill and honor made the Orlesian Chevaliers seem like ill-trained squires playing with sticks. Rajmael does their legacy great justice." _Solas answered with admiration.

_"How is it that flowers are growing around him? I've never heard of such magic."_

_"The Arcane Warriors were the embodiment of will made manifest. Merely focusing his mind and exerting his will affects what he can do and the things he comes in contact with." _Solas clarified.

_"And the flame on his sword? It's not like any kind of fire rune I've seen before."_

_ "That's because it's not from a rune, Seeker. It is Veilfire. A form of sympathetic magic, a memory of flame that burns without fuel and can reveal secrets that are otherwise invisible to the world. The veilfire conjured by his sword burns with spirit damage instead of actual flame."_

Cassandra continue to watch Rajmael's forms, with unusual intent. The Arcane Warrior was starting to work up a sweat.

"_Well, I've seen what I came to see." _Solas concluded as he turned to leave._ "I'll be heading back to Haven, but do keep an eye on his performance, Seeker_."

Solas made it sound as if she were some giggling girl spying on her childhood crush. Cassandra wanted to yell her denial back at Solas, but then that would alert Rajmael to her presence. The irony made her blush a little.

Rajmael ceased his movement, turned his back towards Cassandra's direction and planted his sword into the ground. _"If you wanted to get me alone with me shirt off, you could have just asked, Cassandra."_ He called back to her.

O Holy Andraste, she was embarrassed now. How did he know she was here?

"_Ears like these aren't just for show, Cassandra."_ Rajmael answered. _"I heard you and Solas approaching."_

Cassandra finally emerged from behind her tree after wiping that embarrassed look off her face_. "I…I merely wanted to return something to you." _She finally admitted as she held out his amber pendant.

Rajmael's eyes went wide with surprise as he took his necklace and affectionately placed it back around his neck_. "I thought I lost it when the Conclave was destroyed."_

Seeing the joy on Rajmael's face brought a small grin on Cassandra's face, though she didn't know why. It was simple gesture. _"You dropped it after your battle with the Pride Demon. I thought you deserved to at least have that back."_

"_Cassandra, you have no idea how much this pendant means to me. Thank you." _Rajmael held the necklace like it was a priceless treasure, eagerly placing it back around his neck.

"_Is it something all Dalish carry?"_

"_Ha-ha. No, even amongst the Dalish this is a rare thing, and infinitely invaluable to us. The amber and leaf are from ironwood in the prime of its life. These are given as gifts between loved ones as a symbol of how much the other cares."_

"_And who gave this one to you?"_

"_The woman I loved, Evanura."_ Rajmael sighed sadly. _"She was the best swordfighter in the clan, while her husband, Nethras, was our best hunter. They gave this to me when they asked me to be the godfather of their child."_

"_And are they waiting for you with the rest of your clan?"_

"_No. They…they were killed two years ago."_ Rajmael answered forlornly.

"_I…I'm so sorry."_ Cassandra was shocked. She was beginning to feel worse and worse about her treatment of him. He wanted to go home, like so many others, but she didn't care. All she cared about was keeping him to be used as a tool. It made her no better than how the Chantry was acting.

Rajmael quickly decided to change the subject and maintain his chipper demeanor. He picked up a nearby fallen branch and held it in his hand. _"Would you like to spar, Seeker? I could use a little live exercise."_

"_I'm not sure I want to damage our savior before he actually accomplishes anything."_ Cassandra refused gently.

"_Cassandra…"_ Rajmael lifted his left hand and slid a knife across his palm. To Cassandra's surprise the cut healed instantly. _"I think I can handle whatever you can throw at me, Seeker."_

"_Impressive, but you forget that I've been trained to suppress magic. Any fight between us would be rather one sided." _

"_I am may be a mage, Cassandra, but I am also a warrior. That makes me twice as dangerous"_ Rajmael boasted with full confidence and a wide grin. _"But if you don't want to go to, I don't blame you. After all, you do hit like a Nevarran girl."_

A faint scowl crept across Cassandra's face when he said that again. This elf really knew how to get under her skin. And it really pissed her off. "_Very well. If I'm to follow you into battle I'd better know how strong your sword arm is."_

"_Oh, I'm sure that Pride Demon we encountered back in the Temple can attest to how strong my sword arm is. But don't worry, I won't use any of my powers on you." _Rajmael assured with a confident grin

"_Hmph. Likewise."_

Cassandra drew her sword and shield while Rajmael assumed a high guard with a two handed grip. Was he going to strike high? Cassandra charged in with her shield to knock Rajmael off balance. The elf quickly crouched to the side of her shield and whacked her sharply on the wrist with his branch, making her drop her shield.

The stinging sensation in her wrist throbbed through her whole hand. But Cassandra wasn't going to back down. She maintained her stance and kept her guard up. She thrusted, he countered thrusted. His speed and accuracy was impressive. She blocked and spun out of the way to his flank, aiming her practice sword to the back of his head. Rajmael did a perfectly executed front somersault and completley evaded Cassandra's attack. Damn he was nimble.

Rajmael recovered from his somersault and attacked with a strike at her shield arm, she would need to protect her injury, which would leave her head and right flank open. As expected, she had to block to protect her hand. What wasn't expected was her grabbing his sword hand and planting her injured hand so hard into his face that his nose broke and sent him flying backwards. She definitely didn't hit like a Neverran girl.

The pain in Cassandra's hand throbbed excruciatingly, she might even had bruised her knuckles, but it was worth it. She readied to charge in with another attack, but Rajmael raised his hand, bidding her to desist.

"_Shtop."_ He bade through his broken nose. _"Ah think thash enof for today. Any further and Ah'll I haf to get sherioush."_

"_Still think I hit like a Neverran girl?"_

"_Less so."_ He answered smugly as he pinched his nose tightly and magically healed his broken it. He looked at her injured hand and walked up to her_. "Let me see your hand, Cassandra."_

"_It's fine." _Cassandra insisted. _"I've been hurt worse than this during my apprenticeship."_

"_The Hinterlands is a war zone and I don't want you to get zapped by lightening or beheaded because your shield hand was hurt sparring with me. I don't need that on my conscience."_

Cassandra sighed in annoyance and relented. It would be difficult to hold her shield with her hand in pain. She held out her hand to Rajmael who gently took it into his hands. She winced as he slowly slid her mailed glove off her hand. She was surprised how soothing his hands felt on hers, but she was shocked when he brought his lips so close to her hand she thought he meant to kiss. Instead he blew on her injury…almost like how Antony used to which she fell and hurt herself. The warmth from Rajmael's hands and breath spread from her hand and throughout her whole body as his magic mended her injury. She'd never felt anything like that before.

Rajmael finally released her hand, it had been fully healed. How did he do that? This wasn't the first time someone had used healing magic on her, but this felt different. Her body still surged with the warmth he gave her. Why did she feel that way? Cassandra tried to maintain her composure as she wondered something. _"If you can heal your wounds and that of others, can't you heal those scares on your body?"_

Rajmael glanced at the burn scars running along the left side of his torso with bitter look in his eyes. _"I could, but I choose not to."_

"_Why is that?"_

"_So that I don't forget what was done to me. And why I must follow the Dirth'ena Enasalin."_ He answered grimly.

Cassandra silently followed after Rajmael. Her hand still tingled from Rajmael's magic, but her heart beat was erratic right now. Why did she feel like that? She pushed the thought from her mind. They had a mission to complete and nothing else mattered.

The two of them made their way back to the Chantry to prepare to depart to the Hinterlands. From what the scouts' reports said, the area was now under siege by Templars and mages both. Hopefully Mother Giselle could tell them how to best handle the Chantry so that they won't be hamstringed by them.

It was now up to Rajmael to lead this upstart, infantile, Inquisition to solve the mystery of the Breach and restore order to the world. Rajmael held the small halla horn totem in his hand and whispered a prayer to Dirthamen. _"Dirthamen, lord of knowledge and keeper of secrets, grant me the wisdom to walk this new path with well and with certainty. Reveal to me the path I must take to find the answer I seek. Please? Seriously, the only fortune I've been finding lately is the really shitty kind. I could use a little help here!"_

**Author's Note:**

Sorry there wasn't any fight scenes in this chapter. I'm working on that for the upcoming ones. Please review and tell me what you think. I claim nothing, this is all purely fictional.


	4. Dealing With The Chantry

**~Dealing with the Chantry~**

The four of them rode westward from Haven to the Hinterlands where Mother Giselle was trying to support a relief effort for refugees. Well, three of the rode. Varric just sat on the same horse as Solas and clung to the elf for dear life. Dwarves weren't very good riders.

While they were in the region, Josephine suggested they make contact with Master Dennet, a highly regarded stable master and horse breeder respected even in Val Royeaux. If there's one thing that can be said about the Fereldans it's that they love and take very good care of their animals.

Cassandra had never seen Halla up close before. She'd heard that these massive deer were incredibly ornery and always heard tales of Orlesian Chevaliers trying to break them only to be impaled on their antlers. But this silvery white Halla not only seemed tamed but it was most accommodating to his rider. Rajmael rode the beast as though he were born to it, even though he had no saddle or stirrup, just some simple reigns to hold on to. He rode with such ease he was able to smoke his pipe without being deterred.

Cassandra looked at her left hand and it still tingled with Rajmael's magic. Despite Rajmael being the one to concede he still had the advantage and chose not to keep going. She was quite curious about his martial capabilities. _"I cannot place your fighting style, Rajmael. Even amongst the Knight-Enchanters I've never seen such technique. Is it an Elven martial art?"_

Rajmael cringed at that word as he took a long drag from his sylvan wood pipe and slowly exhaled it out of his nose. _"Yes. It is known as the Dirth'en Enasalin. The Path that leads to Victory. Something the Knight-Enchanters try to imitate."_ He spoke with distaste. Rajmael hated being compared to the Knight-Enchanters of the Chantry. "_It is a discipline where a mage focuses his will and magic to increase his physical and martial capabilities. In the time of when elves were immortal they would spend lifetimes upon lifetimes trying to perfect their skill. I had to go through years of harsh mental discipline and physical agony to learn this skill."_

"_Is that how you got your scars?"_

"_Some of them."_ Rajmael answered stoically, he didn't like thinking about how he got those ones_. "The other ones I got from my clan's best warrior kicking my ass and my Keeper yelling in my ear."_

"_Ha. I suppose martial training is the same no matter what time or culture you're in."_

They finally made it to the base camp of the Inquisition's scouts and met with their lead scout. Who turned out to be a dwarf, much to Rajmael's surprise.

"_Wow. The Herald of Andraste. Scout Harding reporting for duty, ser."_ The scout gazed wide-eyed. _"We've heard the stories about what happened at the Breach. Is it true what they say?"_

"_Well, that depends. What are they saying?"_

"_Oh, just that you're the only hope for all Thedas, and you're probably the only one who can save us from the hordes of demons surging out of the rifts."_

"_Aww. Is that all? Varric, you've got to let people know about how I single-handedly killed a Pride Demon in the Temple of Sacred Ashes."_

"_It's a little difficult considering how most people don't even know what a Pride Demon is."_ Varric explained. _"I'll be sure to let the boys at the tavern know that you fought off an incursion of Darkspawn beneath the Temple. That'll balance things out."_

Cassandra groaned in displeasure at the thought of Varric making up more stories.

"_So, anyway…" _Scout Harding contiued. _"This region is a war zone. The fighting between Templars and mages has been the hardest here than in any other region."_

"_These people weren't at the Conclave?"_

"_No. From what we've gathered the mages are desperate and the Templars are pissed. Both of them are going to certain extremes to get what they want."_ Scout Harding informed_. "Mother Giselle is nearby tending to the refugees and Master Dennet's farm is nearby. He'll be able to provide the Inquisition with the mounts we need."_

"_Well, glad to see we're off to a sunny start."_ Rajmael said sarcastically. _"Let's get moving."_

"_Good luck, Herald." _Harding waved.

**~XoXoXo~**

They all made their way down to the crossroads where Mother Giselle was administering relief and healing to refugees displaced by the fighting. Apparently, Giselle was a well-regarded figure known for her charitable nature and controversial stance within the Chantry. According to Leliana they might be able to increase their standing with the Chantry with Mother Giselle standing with them, and in turn she might know best on how to approach the Chantry.

As they approached the outpost they were shocked to see the rebel mages and rogue Templars engaged in vicious combat, with the refugees in caught in the middle. Fireballs and the smell of burning flesh filled the air and where accompanied by clanging of steel and geysers of blood. It was a fucking mess. More like a vicious brawl then an actual battle.

"_Holy shit."_ Rajmael cursed as he drew his sword. _"Everyone, protect the refugees!"_

"_Hold! We are not apostates!"_ Cassandra ordered the Templars.

"_Peace!" _Solas bade the apostates. _"We are not Templars. We mean you know harm!"_

"_They aren't listening!"_ Rajmael screamed. _"Just fight and light these fuckers!"_ Rajmael raised his sword over his head, channeled his magic through the ironwood blade and threw massive ball of flame at the Templars, then summoned a magical glyph that launched a salvo of electric bolts at the apostates that shot through them before they could summon any spells.

Varric launched bolt after bolt from Bianca with masterful accuracy at the Templars. A group of veteran Knight-Templars charged the dwarf, he launched an Explosive Shot into their ranks and sent them flying in an eruption of flame, shrapnel and torn flesh.

Cassandra stood her ground against four apostates. These were no mere apprentices, they were trained mages who passed their Harrowing. Their spells would be formidable, but only if they could use them. She focused her mind and felt the lyrium pulsing in the veins like little candles burning inside them. Cassandra exerted her will and felt the candles smother beneath her dominance. The mages tried to conjure a spell, summon their magic, but it was futile. Within seconds Cassandra cut them down with masterful skill leaving a trail of dead bodies behind her.

Solas abhorred violence. He hated using magic for combat even more, but he knew the struggle for survival was all too common in this world. And these Templars made it all too necessary. He tapped into the essence of the Fade, whirled his staff in a wide arc and slammed it downward and a massive recreation of his own fist appeared from the Fade and slammed down on the Templars, smashing them to the ground. Solas whirled his staff again and performed an upward strike and sent the downed Templars flying through the air with a telekinetic blast, their bodies landing on the ground with bone-breaking force.

These rebels' numbers were dwindling fast. They had no commander, no orders and no discipline to fend of the Inquisition Agents. Most were dead and some fled, only a handful remained. Cassandra finished off what remained of the rebel apostates while Rajmael faced down the remaining Templars.

These ones were Templar Knights. Veteran mage hunters who spent years training in the martial arts, and they were being led by a massive Knight Defender, a heavy shock-trooper carrying a sturdy tower shield that was enchanted to withstand and deflect magic assaults, he also carried a gruesome mace. He pounded his shield and commanded his underlings to attack the elf.

Rajmael's eyes glowed with energy and his tattoos lit with power as he activated his Shimmering Shield. His sword burned brightly with Veilfire as he assumed his attack stance. He attacked, his speed augmented by his magically augmented physicality. He charged the three knights, his blade passing through the Templars shield as though it were a wraith. Rajmael was like a blur. One strike, two strikes, and then three strikes. And the Templars fell down dead. Not a scratch in their weapons and armor. Rajmael's sword magically went through the plate mail and cut down the bodies inside them.

The Knight-Defender roared from beneath his visor and swung his giant, heavy cudgel at the elf's head. Before the one-handed maul could reach his head Rajmael cut the mace in two right beneath its head and thrusted his sword into his opponent. The sword completely bypassed the powerful shield and thick armor into the man and flesh beneath it all. The Templar gurgled as his own blood spurt out from beneath his visor. Rajmael withdrew his blade, leaving no damage or trace behind it, and the Templar fell down with a thud, joining his brothers dead in the dirt.

Rajmael flung the blood of his blade and sheathed his sword. This brawl was finished almost as quickly as it began. And like all brawls it was a mess of two angry parties taking their anger out on each other and not caring what they destroyed or who they hurt in the process.

Rajmael walked over to the makeshift camp where an unruffled Mother Giselle was administering healing to some of the injured Inquisition soldiers. Refugees, injured soldiers and even rebels were strewn on cots and the ground receiving healing from the apothecaries and healing mages.

Mother Giselle was amongst them. She was a woman in her later years and was of obvious Rivaini descent or from that region of Thedas, but had a distinct Orlesian accent. There was a calm serenity that surrounded her that Rajmael was unused to seeing in a Chantry official. One of the Inquisition soldiers was frantic about the prospect of a mage healing him.

"_Be at peace."_ Mother Giselle bade calmly_. "They will heal you."_

"_D-don't let them touch me Mother!"_ The soldier begged. _"Th-their magic is…"_

"_Turned to a noble purpose." _The Chantry Mother finished. "_Surely, their magic is no more evil than your blade."_

"_B-but…"_

"_Hush, dear boy. Let them heal you. It certainly something the Maker would smile upon."_ The soldier finally relented and allowed the mages to perform their task.

"_Mother Giselle?"_ Rajmael addressed.

"_I am. And you must be the one they are calling the Herald of Andraste."_ The Chantry Mother confirmed politely.

"_Believe me, I wish they didn't. It makes a liar out of me. My name is Rajmael, and I prefer to be called that."_

"_Sadly, we hardly ever have a say in how others perceive us. We can only let our actions reveal who we are."_ Giselle stated.

"_What you said to that soldier? About magic?"_

"_The Chantry does not teach that magic is evil. We teach that pride is evil and it does not corrupt only mages."_ Giselle explained.

"_Ah, then by that rationale The Chantry is so corrupt it can barely stand. As evidenced by this Mage-Templar war."_ Rajmael said sardonically_. "Because it seems you're familiar with a different Chantry than the one I know."_

Mother Giselle sighed wearily. _"Please, I did not invite you here to debate with me."_

"_Then why am I here?"_

Mother Giselle motioned for Rajmael to walk with her_. "I know of the Chantry's denouncement of the Inquisition and I am familiar with those behind it. I will not lie to you: some of them are grandstanding, hoping to increase their chances for becoming the new Divine. Some think you're responsible for what happened at the Conclave. And some are simply terrified, looking to whatever answer gives them comfort."_

"_You're not tell me anything I don't already know. The Chantry is a threat and all they're doing is making things worse."_

"_But they do not know that." _Giselle insisted. _"This is why I have summoned you here: go to them. Convince the remaining Clerics that you are no demon to be feared. They have heard only frightening tales of you, give them something else to believe."_

That had to be one of the most idiotic things Rajmael had heard all day_. "And here I thought the Chantry condemned suicide. Going to them now, in the heart of their power, is like putting one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel."_

"_If I thought you were incapable I wouldn't have suggested it."_

"_It's still a ridiculous notion." _Rajmael denounced.

"_Let me put it to you this way; you needn't convince them that you're not a threat, you simply need them to…doubt. Their power is their unified voice, take that from them and you will get the time and maybe even the support you need."_

This still sounded like a foolish notion to Rajmael. _"This could end badly."_

"_You are no longer alone against the Grand Clerics, Herald. Take faith in those who stand with you." _Mother Giselle implored wisely. _"I will go now to Haven and provide Sister Leliana with the names of the clergy members who will stand with the Inquisition. It is not much, but I hope it will proved you with the support you need."_

Mother Giselle walked away with an Inquisition escort back to Haven and left Rajmael and his party there in the Hinterlands. This situation was with the Chantry was just getting crappier and crappier. But he couldn't deny the fact that they needed to know the Chantry's position. As it is, it seemed the Chantry couldn't put their own shoes on even if the directions were on the heel.

**~Back at Haven~**

Rajmael was gone only for a little while, then he comes back and finds that there's a battle about to erupt in their own base of operations. And, surprise, surprise, it was between the mages and Templars. What's more, Chancellor Roderick was with them.

"_Your kind killed the Most Holy!"_ A Templar-Knight growled at the mages.

"_Lies! You're kind failed and let her die!"_ An Enchanter spat back.

"_Shut your mouth, mage!"_ The Templar went for his sword but was stopped by Commander Cullen.

"_That's enough!"_ Cullen ordered with full authority.

"_Knight-Captain, we should be…!"_

"_That isn't my title anymore!"_ Cullen corrected. _"We are not Templars any longer. We are all a part of the Inquisition."_

"_And what does that mean exactly?"_ Roderick asked pompously as he walked arrogantly up to the Commander.

"_Back already, Chancellor? Haven't you done enough?"_ Cullen asked disdainfully.

"_I am merely curious, Commander, how this Inquisition and its so-called 'Herald of Andraste' intend to restore order as you've promised. "_

"_Of course you are."_ Cullen said grimly. He looked over to all the people that were gather to gawk at the spectacle that mages and Templars were making. _"Back to your duties. All of you!"_ He ordered, and everyone, including the mages and Templars. Cullen turned his attention to Rajmael. _"Mages and Templars were already at war, now they're blaming each other for the Divine's death."_

"_Which is exactly why we require a proper authority to guide them." _Roderick spouted.

"_What? You and a bunch of random Mothers who weren't even important enough to even be at the Conclave?"_ Cullen asked sarcastically_. "Don't make me laugh."_

"_This rebel Inquisition and its false Herald? I think not."_ Roderick balked back.

"_If the 'proper authority' hadn't failed so epically we wouldn't be in this state of affairs."_ Rajmael interjected. _"Would we?"_

"_So we should just abandon our duty and exalt a murderer?"_ Roderick asked incredulously_. "What about justice?"_

"_Justice?"_ Cullen spoke as though the Chancellor left a bad taste in his mouth. _"You mean convenience. You'd be happy to use the Herald as scapegoat and completely ignore the Breach while the Chantry consolidates its power." _

"_That is for the next Divine to decide."_ Roderick argued_. "And if you were any member of the faithful you'd know that!"_

This was getting tedious. Rajmael had enough to worry about with the Chantry without this douche-monkey getting in their faces. "_You know, Chancellor, we might take you a bit more seriously if you'd go change your pants."_

"_And what do my pants have to do with anything?"_ Roderick asked indignantly.

Rajmael made a subtle gesture with his hand and activated a spell. _"Well, for starters, they're on fire."_

Roderick looked to his backside saw the smoke rising from his own burning ass. He yelled at the top of his lungs and ran around like a chicken with its head cut off, while Rajmael laughed his ass off. After about two minutes off running around with biscuits burning, Roderick finally had the sense enough to sit down on the snow and douse the flame. He wasn't going to be sitting comfortably for a while.

A few minutes later Rajmael, Cassandra and the War Council assembled in the make shift War Room to discuss how to handle the situation in Val Rayeaux.

"_Having the Herald address the Chantry is not a bad idea."_ Josephine stated.

"_You can't be serious."_ Cullen rejected.

"_Mother Giselle isn't wrong: at the moment, the Chantry's strength is their unified opinion."_ Josephine continued.

"_And we should ignore the danger to the Herald?"_ Leliana asked.

"_Well, what do you think, Herald."_ Josephine asked.

The answer was obvious. _"Are you freaking nuts!? Their unified opinion is to put my head on pike. I may as well put myself on the chopping block when I arrive."_

"_I agree." _Cullen concurred_. "We may as well start digging his grave now."_

"_I will go with him."_ Cassandra stated.

"_Aww. Cassandra, you do care."_ Rajmael winked at the Seeker.

"_Don't make me change my mind."_ Cassandra replied stubbornly_. "Mother Giselle said she can give you the names of the Grand Clerics. Use them." _She directed Leliana.

"_But why?"_ Sister Nightingale asked. _"This is nothing but a…."_

"_What choice do we have Leliana? Right now we can't approach anyone to aid us in sealing the Breach."_ Cassandra answered as she looked to the whole council. _"Use what influence we have to call the Clerics together, force them to address us as one. And we will show them, and the people, who is truly fighting this battle."_

Before they all left Leliana motioned Rajmael to stay with her. _"Might we speak privately for a moment, my lord?"_

Leliana looked worried. And if she was worried than it made him worried. "_What's wrong?"_

"_Well, something isn't right, that's for certain." _Leliana answered. _"Several months ago the Grey Wardens of Ferelden vanished, just disappeared. I sent word the Order in Orlais but they too have gone missing. Ordinarily, I wouldn't even consider the idea that they are involved, but the timing is…strange."_

That was foreboding. Grey Wardens had a legendary reputation for being heroes, but whenever they were involved in anything it meant something bad was happening. _"Do you have any leads?"_

Leliana breathed a sigh of relief. _"Thank you. The others have disregarded my suspicions, but I can't just ignore them. Two days ago my agents told me of a Grey Warden by name of Blackwall was traveling through the Hinterlands. If you have the opportunity, please meet with him. See what he knows."_

"_And if he doesn't know anything?"_

"_Warden Blackwall is well regarded figure within the Order. He was promoted to Constable of the Grey during the Blight and was charged with being ready to lead their forces into Ferelden. He must know something." _Leliana explained_. "I pray that I am wrong, and that the Wardens are not involved. Oh, and before you go, a messenger came with a response from you clan." _Leliana handed him a box with a letter attached. _"I hope this puts your mind at ease."_

Rajmael carefully opened the letter and recognized the Keeper's handwriting. It was relieving, yet nerve-wracking, to hear from her again.

**Rajmael,**

**Andaran atish'an, da'len. It does my heart good to know that you're safe. When we heard about what happened at the Conclave we feared the worst. Eva was most beside herself, you cannot imagine the joy she felt when we learned that you're alive and well. The agents of the Inquisition told us of the work you are doing and it surprised us to hear them speak of a Dalish elf with such reverence. **

**Seeing as that this cause you've taken shall prevent you from returning I have sent you this gift that I meant for you to have upon your return. I hope that it protects you from the dangers ahead. I shall pray to Mythal for your protection, to Dirthamen for you to find fortune, and to Andruil that you find success in your hunt to close the Breach.**

**Dareth shiral,**

**Keeper Dashana Istimaethoriel of Clan Lavellan.**

**PS: Please, write to Eva. Her young heart still hurts from the loss of her parents, and she fears that with you fighting the demons she will lose you as well. Let her know you still care for her.**

Rajmael folded the letter and breathed a sigh of mixed relief and heartbreak. He knew that Eva must be hurting right now, and he wished that he could go back and tell her he was safe. But he was doing this for her, all her could do was hope she'd understand that.

Rajmael went to his room to see what the Keeper had sent him. A feeling of surprise surged through him as he opened the box to find something he never expected to see. The Robes of the Keeper. A silvery white longcoat with grey sleeves and adorned with the images and invocations of his gods on the underside. This coat was woven in a temple to June, god of craftsmanship, for the high priest of Dirthamen in a time when elves ruled the Dales.

Rajmael donned the robe and felt a newfound sense of sanguine accomplishment wash over him. He never believed that he'd actually wear these clothes. And now with his new found confidence and clothing he was ready to face those bitches in the Orlesian Capital.

**Val Royeaux**

Up until now Rajmael had never been in a Shemlen city. He had heard the stories, but the reality was much different. He didn't realize humans, who were legendary for their penchant for destruction, were capable of creating such places.

Val Royeaux was the heart and soul of the Orlesian Empire. Vibrant, full of color and sounds of song and music. The center of trade, learning and culture. And the embodiment of the things Rajmael hated the most. The beauty and elegance of this city was merely a sugar-coated topping to cover up the rot and corruption that infested the hollow substance beneath it. And this façade was reflected upon the people who held all the power in this country, especially the Chantry. All shiny smiles and painted expressions meant to emulate beauty they didn't possess or believed they inherited.

In this country you were either shemlen nobles who, by mere birth, are entitled to everything beneath the sun even if it already belongs to another. If you were a peasant then you were nothing, a noble is allowed to take whatever he wishes from you, your belongings, even your family and to stand against it is treason. And if you were an elf, you were less than nothing: a Chevalier could take your life or your children and no one would care because you were livestock to them. At best elves here are prettied up pets servicing the humans for a pat on the head, and at worse you were an insect to be swatted down should the very sight of you offend them enough.

Rajmael wanted to leave this place as soon as possible. As a Dalish elf he did not belong in the careless, ignorant walls of human cities.

The received a message from the Revered Mothers, all being led by Revered Mother Hevara, stating that they were willing to meet with the Herald of Andraste at noon in the middle of the Summer Bazaar. But of course the Grand Clerics wanted to meet in public, how else could they make a spectacle of themselves. On the up side, it meant they couldn't do too much to try and capture him without making colossal asses of themselves in front of their flocks.

As they walked down the so-called "Avenue of Her Reflective Thought" the masked denizens of the city were shocked and scattered at the sight of the elven heathen that had been proclaimed "Herald of Andraste" walking the streets of their beloved city.

Varric chuckled in his throat as he watched the prim and proper Orlesians scatter like chickens. "_Watch out, Seeker. I think they know who we are."_

"_Once again, your power to perceive the obvious is astonishing."_ Cassandra groaned.

An Inquisition scout ran as fast as she could from the Summer Bazaar towards them and knelt before Rajmael.

"_You're one of Leliana's people. What have you to report?"_ Cassandra ordered.

"_My lord Herald, the Revered Mothers have all gathered in the Bazaar as they said they would, but they are accompanied by a great many Templars."_ The scour reported.

"_The Templars are here?"_ Cassandra asked disbelievingly. "_Was Lord-Seeker Lucius with them?"_

"_Yes, Seeker. The people think the Templars have arrived to protect them…from the Inquisition. They're gathering on the other side of the market. I think that's where the Templars intend to meet you"_

Cassandra couldn't believe this. The Templars, Lord Seeker Lucius was here to act against them? _"They wish to protect the people? From us?"_

"_To put down the blasphemous Herald of Andraste, most likely."_ Rajmael answered.

"_Surely the cannot think such thing!"_ The scout shouted.

"_I'm a Dalish savage prancing around with people thinking I possess Andraste's favor."_ Rajmael continued_. "Of course they think that."_

"_You think the Order's returned to the fold to put down the upstart Inquisition, Seeker?"_ Varric asked.

"_I know Lord-Seeker Lucius. He would never leap to the Chantry's defense after everything that's happened."_ Cassandra denounced.

"_Well, it sounds like I've got a larger audience to impress."_ Rajmael sighed.

"_So it would seem."_ The Seeker confirmed. _"Return to Haven. Let them know what's happened and make sure they have a plan prepared should anything happen to us here."_ She ordered the Scout.

The scout saluted and made her way out of the city. They made it to the Summer Bazaar and, sure enough, there was Revered Mother Hevara standing on a podium overlooking a crowd of people and stirring up a storm of religious zealotry and giving a speech about how the Chantry was still in control. She tried to make it seem like she held some kind of authority, but Rajmael could tell she was shaking like a leaf under her robes. If she didn't have the other Chantry officials or the Templars nearby, she probably wouldn't be there.

The Herald decided that it was time to make his grand appearance to these pious pea-brains. Time to make someone's bad day even worse.

Mother Hevara Certainly noticed the Herald moving closer to her. It was time to denounce the elven savage. _"Good people of Val Royeaux, hear me!"_ She called to the crowd. _"Together we mourn our beloved Divine. Her beautiful and naïve heart silenced by treachery!"_

Ooh. She mocks her beloved Divine as she mourns her. Nice touch. Rajmael thought as he smoked his pipe.

"_You wonder what will become of her murderer?"_ the boisterous Mother continued. _"Well, wonder no more!"_ Mother Hevara pointed the crowd at Rajmael, still smoking casually_. "Behold, the so-called Herald of Andraste! Who claims to have risen where our Most Holy fell. We say this is a false prophet! The Maker would send no elf in our hour of need!"_ Her words were filled with revilement.

Rajmael slowly exhaled the smoke out of his nostrils, its acrid stench filling the air. He hated being called the Herald of Andraste_. "I'm not here by some edict from a long lost deity! I'm here to deal with the Breach! A threat you seem content to ignore! I don't need a god's blessing to face a threat that endangers us all!"_

"_He speaks the truth!"_ Cassandra insisted_. "We are here to stop this madness before it consumes us all!"_

"_It is already too late!"_ Hevara denounced as she pointed to a rather large contingent of Templars coming her way. _"See! The Templars have returned to the ranks of the Chantry. They will face this false 'Inquisition' and the people will be safe once more!"_

But to Mother Hevara's surprise the Templars just kept on walking right past her, as if they didn't even notice her. Then one of the Templars following the Lord-Seeker walked up behind the Revered Mother and socked her in the back of the head! She cried out sharply as she fell down harder than a sack of bricks.

As much as Rajmael liked seeing that bitch get taken down a notch, even he was surprised to see the Templars do such a thing. Wasn't that considered blasphemy? Oh, well.

One of the Templars looked appalled by what he just saw buy the Lord-Seeker put his hand on him assuredly.

"_Still yourself!"_ Lucius commanded with authority lacing his voice. _"She is beneath us."_

The Lord-Seeker Lucius was a man of veteran age, but the years and strain of his occupation showed on his face. He was without a doubt one of the ugliest humans Rajmael had ever seen. His hair was grey and brittle with a terribly shaved five'o clock shadow on his face. His eyes were really close together, separated only by a horribly broken nose fixed above a pair of wormy lips and crooked teeth, some of them were even chipped. On his back he carried a claymore with a serrated edge and a crossguard that was reminiscent to flames. If someone got hit with that it would mess them up

"_Oh, bravo!"_ Rajmael called as he sarcastically clapped his hands. "Beating on the weak and the defenseless. That's something the Templars haven't done for centuries."

Cassandra couldn't believe her eyes, even though what was happening was within arm's reach. "_Lord-Seeker? Please, it is imperative that we speak."_

"_Cassandra."_ Lucius eyed her with a look of disgust. _"You shame this Order and everyone you ever served with. Creating a rebel Inquisition, and raising a puppet as Andraste's prophet. You're a disgrace!"_

"_Says the grown man wearing a skirt in public, and whose Order abandoned the Chantry after swearing an oath to serve it."_ Rajmael sneered.

"_The Templar Order failed no one we left the Chantry to purge the mages!" _Lucius retorted. _"You are the ones who failed! You who would leash our righteous swords with fear and weakness!"_ The Lord-Seeker turned to meet them face to face with standing tall with his chest out like an ape. _"If you're here to appeal to the Chantry, you are too late. The only destiny that demands recognition is mine!"_

"_Then what was the point of showing up here? Other than punching out decrepit old biddies?"_ Rajmael pointed his thumb at the out cold Revered Mother.

"_I came to see what you were made of, and I see you are nothing!"_ Lucius bellowed_. "I will make the Order a power that stands alone against the Void! We will be strong. Independent! And we'll finally receive the recognition we deserve!"_ Lucius turned to his men as they saluted in sync and perfect discipline_. "Templars! We march!"_

The Templars turned on their heels and marched in perfect rank and file out of the market, their heavy footsteps pounding through the market and making the sound of thunder.

Rajmael had to say something. _"Lucius! I got something to say to you!"_

The Lord-Seeker turned to the elf with a look of aggression in his eyes.

"_You know what they say about men with big swords right?"_ Rajmael laughed as he wiggled his pinky finger at him_. "Compensating for something? Or do you wear a skirt for a reason? Ha-ha-ha!"_

The Lord-Seeker growled in his throat as he turned to march with his men out of the city as the elf continued to laugh at him. Cassandra on the other hand, was not amused.

"_Has the Lord-Seeker gone completely mad?"_ She asked disbelievingly_. "I have known him for years. He's always been a dutiful man, never one to seek power or given to grandstanding."_

"_Why would he be acting this way then?"_

"_I…I honestly do not know."_ Cassandra said dismally. _"Perhaps he is simply tired seeing his men suffer and die for the Chantry only to be treated as a tool. I cannot say. But surely the rest of the Order can't feel the same as he does."_

"_You sure about that, Seeker? Cause it looks like the rest of the Order is marching out of the city with him." _Varric pointed out.

"_Either way, we must report this back at Haven."_ Solas reminded. _"I'm sure some will be relieved that the Chantry is no longer a threat to us."_

Rajmael waltzed over to the now awake Revered Mother. Seeing this insipid Mother down on her hands and knees after being humiliated like that filled him with a sense of vindication that put a wide grin on his face.

"_This victory must please you greatly, Cassandra."_ Hevara practically wept.

"_We came here to seek the Chantry's aid."_ Cassandra answered_. "This isn't our doing, but yours."_

"_And you had no part in forcing out hand? Don't delude yourself, Seeker."_ The Revered Mother scoffed bitterly. _"Now we've been shown up by our own Templars, in front of our entire flock. And my fellow clerics have scattered to the winds, along with their convictions."_ Hevara actually started crying like a child. _"Just answer me this: If you do not believe you are the Maker's chosen, then what are you?"_

"_Why is it only after you've been humiliated and put on your knees that you give a shit about who I am?"_ Rajmael scorned.

"_Because what…what if I am wrong? What if I have erred in my judgment?_" Hevara stated sadly. _"For you to be true, then many things must be false. And for you to be false, it means a great many things have failed. So what are you?"_

Rajmael looked down on the fallen cleric seriously. _"I am an elf of the Dalish clans, and a follower of Dirthamen. Nothing more and nothing less."_

"_That is…more comforting than you realize." _Hevara admitted sadly.

Rajmael's feelings of vindication quickly turned into disgust. The Chantry he remembered was an institution that crushed what it despised like it was an insect. An empire in all but name that destroyed any idea, belief or culture that was outside what it allowed. But this sobbing wreck of a woman showed that without their petty leaders or trained Templars, they were just an organization of scared women.

"_The Chantry shit the bed. Now you've got to sleep in it."_ Rajmael belittled sickeningly.

"_So it would seem."_ Hevara concurred._ "But we're only trying to follow what our faith tells us."_

"_You've never relied on faith."_ Rajmael rebuked. _"You've always relied on power you thought faith gave you. And now that you don't have any power at all, you've shown the world how truly useless you are."_

Cassandra shot a look of disapproval at the Herald, but she couldn't deny his logic. Without the infrastructure of the Divine and the Grand Clerics, the Chantry was probably finished unless they changed it.

As they prepared to leave the market place they were approached by an elf wearing deep blue robes of the Enchanter rank. She was at least in her mid-fifties but like all elves she aged very well. She had short black hair and pale green eyes. Rajmael could feel the magic radiating from her. She was definitely quite skilled.

"_If I might have a moment of your time."_ The mage bade.

Cassandra's face was colored with surprise. _"Grand-Enchanter Fiona?"_

"_The leader of the mage rebellion?"_ Solas remarked._ "Is it wise for you to be here?"_

"_How can you be here?"_ Rajmael asked cautiously_. "I thought you died at the Conclave."_

"_The same could be said of Lord-Seeker Lucius. Yet we both saw him here, clear as day. I sent others in my stead in case the Conclave was a trap. And I see my intuition was correct. But I lost many friends at the Conclave as well."_

"_The Most Holy would not have used our only chance for peace as a scheme to end the war quickly, Fiona."_ Cassandra seethed.

"_If there is one thing that I've learned perfectly well, Seeker, it's to never trust the Chantry." Fiona shot back. "Your kind taught me that all too well."_

"_Then why are you here?"_ Rajmael asked.

"_I heard of this gathering and I wanted to see the fabled Herald of Andraste for myself." _Fiona answered. _"If it's help with the Breach you seek, perhaps you would be better off looking amongst your own kind."_

Rajmael was unmoved. _"Are you trying to appeal to the fact that I'm an elf or the fact that I'm a mage? Either way, you and I have nothing in common. Were it up to me I'd already be amongst my own kind."_

"_But certainly you have more in common with us than with those Templar thugs?"_ The Grand-Enchanter insisted. _"If you seek the mages' aid in sealing the Breach then consider this an invitation. Meet with us at Redcliffe. And alliance could benefit us both, after all. I hope to see you there. Au revoir, Lord Herald"_ She bowed respectfully and turned back towards the Market.

Well, this was certainly eventful, and fortuitous as far as Rajmael was concerned. The Templars no longer under Chantry control, so they were no longer a true threat. The leader of the Rebel Mages actually approached them to discuss the possibility of an arrangement. And to top it all off, there was a pompous Chantry Mother was humiliated by her own templars and left crying right in the middle of the market for all of Val Royeaux to see. This would definitely go down as a happy moment for Rajmael.


	5. The Inquisition Wants You!

**The Inquisition Wants You!**

So the Chantry was no longer a threat, and the templars were a no go. And it seems that the Rebel mages might be willing to come to the table, but may have an agenda laying under it. So far this trip has been quite informative.

"_Come, let us return to Haven."_ Cassandra insisted.

Once again they turned to leave, and once again were interrupted by someone. This time some stuffy human in a fruity mask. Literally. His mask was adorned with a basket of actual and artificial fruit attached to it. He just stood there with a vacant expression that made Rajmael think he was touched in the head.

"_I…uh, think he has something for you."_ Varric pointed out. The man was holding some kind of letter in his hands.

Rajmael cautiously took the not from the masked weirdo's hand, who then bowed stiffly, turned on his heel and walked off like someone broke a stick off in his ass.

Rajmael looked at the letter and read it aloud.

"_**To his holiness, The Herald of Andraste…."**_ Rajmael groaned in dismay as he that title he hated slipped from his own mouth.

**You are cordially invited to my salon, to be held in your honor tonight at the chateu of Duke Bastien de Ghislain. **

**Yours, Vivienne De Fer, First Enchanter of Montsimmard and Enchanter of the Imperial Court. **

He finished and gazed at the letter with quizzical look_. "Who the fuck's this bitch?"_ Orlesian titles always gave him a headache.

"_A very powerful mage."_ Cassandra informed forebodingly. "_And not just because she's skilled in magic. From what I understand, she is a formidable player of the Great Game. Unlike most mages, she is given free rein to walk amongst and associate with the nobility of Orlais without the scrutiny of the Chantry."_

"_If she's so powerful and influential why wasn't she at the Conclave?"_ Solas inquired.

"_I do not know, though I imagine Leliana might."_ Cassandra answered. "_If she is inviting you to meet her, be cautious. It is because she seeks to benefit from you for herself, but it's better to have someone like her for you than against you."_

A mage that was influential enough to rub elbows with the nobility of Orlais in the heart of the Chantry's power, yet not she didn't show up to the Conclave? If she was as pretentious as her titles sounded, Rajmael would need to keep his guard up. Orlesians were a people who treated honor like an accessory: wear it when it looks nice, but discarded it when it was no longer a convenience.

Rajmael sighed deeply and decided to make his way to the Duke de Ghislain's little soiree and meet this Madame de Fer, but was stopped by a soldier in foreign armor.

"_Excuse me, are you with the Herald of Andraste?"_ The soldier asked.

"_That's what people have taken to calling me…ser?"_ Rajmael didn't know what to make of this soldier. The armor was obviously from the Free Marches and the sword and shield were Neverran, and the accent was very foreign to him, like from the far north. But the most confounding part was Rajmael couldn't tell if the soldier in front of him was an effeminate man or a masculine woman. He, or she, had smooth features but short militaristic hair and stood with a sense of power.

"_Cremisius Aclassi, first lieutenant of The Bull's Chargers mercenary company out of Neverra, ser!"_ The androgynous mercenary saluted with full gusto. _"I was sent here by my commander with a message."_

"_A message concerning what?"_

"_We've got word of Tevinter mercenaries hitting the Storm Coast, and from what we've gathered their not here for sight-seeing."_ The lieutenant answered. _"My company commander, Iron Bull, offers this information to the Inquisition. Free of charge. If you'd like to what The Bull's Chargers could do for the Inquisition feel free to join us there and watch us work."_

Well that's odd_. "Why would a mercenary out of Neverra want to work for the Inquisition?"_

"_The chief thinks you're doing good work. And from what it looks like, it seems you'll be having some damned good fights ahead. The chief's the sort of man who likes a good fight."_

"_And just what sort of man is your chief?"_

"_He's one of them qunari, or Tal-Vashoth, I guess. You know one of those big guys with the horns."_ That word caught both Varric and Cassandra's attention like it was on fire. _"He's a frontline commander, he's tough, pays well, and he's a helluva lot smarter than the last bastard I worked with. And best of all he's a professional. Never breaks a contract once an offer's been made. But you're the first he's ever gone out of his way to meet."_

This sounded interesting. A veteran mercenary company that wants to join with them so badly they're willing to open the bargaining table? How could he refuse, especially when he needed more men? _"Tell your commander that we will meet him at the Storm Coast and see how he fares."_

"_Thank you, ser. You won't regret this."_ Cremisius promised_. "We're the best you'll find."_ The soldier gave perfect salute, turned about face and marched away.

Okay. So he had to attend an Orlesian salon, find a wandering Grey Warden in the wilderness, and now he had to interview a company of mercenaries being led by a Tal-Vashoth mercenary. So now he was solving other people's problems and getting cozy with people he never met and probably won't care for. He was starting feel like a politician.

Then out of nowhere a red arrow flew out of the sky and right in front of Rajmael.

Cassandra drew her sword and shield and got in front of The Herald, scanning the air for possible assassins. But there was no one. _"What's that? An arrow with a message?"_ she observed.

Rajmael grabbed the arrow and unraveled the note wrapped around it. The message was written in the worst, sloppiest chicken scratches the passed for handwriting that he had ever seen.

**Favors for Favors for Friends,**

**People say yer special. I want to help, and I can bring everyone. There's a baddie in Val-Royo, who wants to hurt you. Hava search for red things 'round the market, the docks and the café and maybe you'll meet him first. Bring sorwds.**

**Friends of Red Jenny.**

Attached to the note was a crude, grease smudged drawing of the locations he was supposed to follow.

"_Find the red things?"_ Rajmael repeated suspiciously. _"This is fucking Val Royeaux! There's red all over the fucking place! And I hate scavenger hunts!"_ Someone obviously wanted their attention and was able to shoot at them without being notice and disappear without a trace. That was someone who could either be an asset or an annoyance. May as well find them, how hard could it be?

**At an Abandoned Mansion**

The map that was drawn for them was about as useful as wheels on a boat. It took them hours to find where the drop points were and each time they stood around looking like idiots trying to find out which red item had the secret message.

It was dark now, and they were finally able to make sense of the freaking clues and were able to follow them to a vacant mansion. Or so they thought. They entered through a back gate and were surprised to find masked inhabitants lurking inside.

"_It's the Inquisition!"_ One of them shrieked.

"_We've been discovered!"_ Another yelled. _"Get them!"_

What in Sylaise's sweet grace was going on? Who were these idiots? They came at them with swords and bows, so…bad guys? Oh, well.

Two of them tried to bull rush Rajmael but he laid down an ice glyph in front of them. The instant they stepped on it they froze solid and were shattered into pieces when Varric loosed a couple bolts into them.

Cassandra and Solas easily dispatched their assailants as well. Cassandra beheaded hers before he could even draw his sword, while Solas chucked a stone-fisted projectile from his staff that caved his opponent's skull in. This fight was so easy that it would be sad if it weren't so funny.

Rajmael went further in. As he pushed the next door open, a clumsily thrown fireball went past his head and missed by a significant margin. Even if it made contact its power was so weak it wouldn't do anything except evaporate against his shimmering shield.

"_Herald of Andraste!"_ A scrawny, well dressed, Orlesian noble in a mask cursed whilst standing with utter arrogance. _"How much did you expend to discover me, I wonder? No doubt it has crippled the Inquisition to find an enemy as tenacious as I."_

Rajmael had no idea what this guy was even talking about_. "I'm sorry, who's this asshole? Hey, asshole, who are you?" _

"_You do not fool me! I am too important for this to be an accident!"_ The pompous stranger blustered. _"My efforts will survive in victories against you elsewhere!"_

One of his guards screamed in agony as he fell dead to the floor and a blonder haired elf emerged from behind, with an arrow pointed at the masked ponce.

"_Just say 'What'."_ She smiled.

"_What is the—glrrghk!"_ They all watched the arrow fly straight into to his mouth and stick out the back of his head as he gurgled his last breath.

"_Eww!"_ The blonde elf groaned as if the sight of her own handiwork grossed her out. She skipped over to the now dead noble. _"Squishy one, but you heard me right?"_ She asked openly. _"Just say 'What!'. Rich tits always try to get more than what they deserve." _

This was this oddest looking elf woman Rajmael had ever seen. For starters her hair was rather short, but her bangs looked like they were cut by a seven year old with a meat cleaver. She wore some kind of light leather armor with pied patch work pants and slippers. Did this woman not own a mirror, or was this some kind of city elven style? Judging from her accent she was from Fereldan, one of their cities at least. But that had to be the most annoying accent he ever heard.

She pulled the arrow out of the man's head. "_Blah, blah, blah. Obey me. Arrow to the face!"_ The elf finally turned her attention to Rajmael. _"So, you followed the notes well enough. Glad to see you're…. And you're an elf. Well, hope you're not too…elfy."_

Rajmael didn't like the way this other elf said that. It woke something he wanted to keep buried. _"You see these tattoos on my face, bitch? I'm as elfy as you can get!"_

"_Hey, it's all good, innit?"_ She replied. _"The important thing is you glow, yeah? You're the Herald?"_

Sweet Mythal, this woman's voice was annoying. _"Look, all I know is that I followed a random fucking trail and into an abandoned house full hostile Orlesian pricks. What is going on?"_

"_No idea. I don't this prick from manners."_ The elf blurted. _"My people just said the Inquisition should take a look at him."_

"_Your people? What, elves? Fereldans?"_

"_Ha! No. People, people."_ She looked over and pointed to a nearby stack of crates. _"Name's Sera. That's cover. May want to get round it. For the reinforcements. Don't worry, someone tipped me off about the equipment shed. They've got no breeches!"_

"_There they are!"_ another guard yelled. He and his fellows were all bare-assed, well-armed and pissed.

"_Butt, butt, butt!"_ Sera laughed maniacally.

"_Why didn't you just take their weapons?"_ Rajmael asked dumbfounded.

"_Because…Breeches! Nya-ha-ha!"_

Sera knocked her arrows at the half-naked guards while Rajmael loosed balls of fire on them. Cassandra finished them off with her sword. They were dead under two minutes.

"Whew! Friends really came through that tip. No breeches!" Sera chortled a throaty laugh almost like she was choking on it. _"So, Herald. You're a strange one. I'd like to join you."_

After following a nonsensical trail to wind up in an abandoned mansion full of homicidal pricks and then being forced to listen to a flat-ear whose voice gave him a headache, Rajmael was understandably short on patience_. "I'm going to count to three. And by the time I get to 'two' I want some real answers. Or I swear to fucking Mythal, there's going to be one elf walking out of here without a head. One!"_

"_Easy! Jeez. No need to get all huffy."_ Sera interjected. _"I sent you the note to look for thing hidden by my friends. The Friends of Red Jenny. That's me. Well, I'm one of them at least. So's a fence in Montfort, some woman in Kirkwall, and I think there's three brothers in Starkhaven…."_

"_Get. To. The Point."_

"_It's just a name, yeah? It lets a bunch of little people, 'Friends', be a part of something while they stick it to the nobles they hate."_ Sera finally answered. _"So, here's me, Sera. The Friends of Red Jenny are sort of out there. I used them to help you. Plus arrows."_

"_So...what you're spies?"_

Sera went on a longwinded rant about nobles, little people and sexual innuendoes about how the people she works with are mostly servants, day workers and whatnot who wanted payback against the nobles who oppress and abuse them. It might've sounded noble is Sera didn't seem so immature about it.

"_This sounds more like a group of thieves trying to get their kicks by harrying the nobility."_

Sera just gave him this little shrug and immature smirk.

"_I wouldn't discard these Red Jenny types, Lavellan."_ Varric piped in. _"Back in Kirkwall, Hawke and I got some pretty good stuff by helping out this…enigmatic and somewhat clandestine little group."_

"_Oh, that' the Champion, yeah?"_ Sera beamed. _"That guy did lot'sa good for my Friends over there in Kirkwall. Wish I knew their names."_

The Herald looked at the dwarf who just tilted his head with an urging look. Rajmael really didn't want to have to put up with Sera's voice, but still, having a group of people watching the nobility and giving them information that could be vital was just too valuable to lose.

Rajmael sighed deeply and hoped there was a lot of aspirin back in Haven_. "Alright, Sera. You and your Friends can assist the Inquisition."_

Sera's face lit up like a pyre_. "Yes! Get in good before you're too big to like, yeah? That'll keep your breeches around you butt. Speaking of, you now a good merchant who'll buy pants, 'cause…Breeches!"_

Rajmael could already feel an aneurysm growing in head. Is this how he made Keeper Deshana feel? Hopefully being around this girl won't give him a stroke before he finished his mission. He whispered a prayer to Mythal that the next person he went to go see wasn't such a pain in the ass.

**The Chateau of the Duke de Ghislain**

While most noble manors in Orlais were vastly lavish, with all the nobles trying to be more extravagant than their peers, the Duke de Ghislain's house was particularly luxurious. Marble walls with magically lite fires blazing from golden braziers and candle sticks. The halls were adorned with rare, priceless pieces of pottery, no doubt the only ones of their kind. And the manor was so big it could fit all the inhabitants back in Haven.

The Orlesians gave out titles like they were candy, so it was difficult to determine how highly ranked he was on the noble social standing. But from what Rajmael was led to believe, that didn't actually matter, all that really mattered was how well the nobles played "The Game." Either way, they weren't here to see the duke, they here for this Madam de Fer. This Enchanter Vivienne.

"_Cassandra, what do you know about this Madam de Fer? This Enchanter Vivienne?"_ Rajmael inquired.

"_She is one of the foremost players of the Game."_ Cassandra answered stoically. _"She is the first mage outside the Tevinter Imperium to openly wield true political power within the Empire without Chantry scrutiny. And her association with the Duke de Ghislain gives her much leeway."_

"_And who is this duke?"_

"_A member of the Council of Heralds. The Council consists of the best players of the Game and wield much of Orlais' political sway. They are the ones in charge of granting greater titles to the Orlesian aristocracy, and to those who would join the aristocracy"_ Cassandra's face became more serious than usual. "_Be careful, Herald. If she is asking for, then it's because she is looking to gain something by aiding us. Still, it would be better to have her with us than actively working against us."_

"_Keep our friends close and our enemies dead?"_

"_Exactly."_ Cassandra chuckled.

The doorman at the gate wrinkled his nose at the very sight of Rajmael and his group. _"Ugh! What are you vagabonds doing in this part of the city? Go back the way you came or I'm calling the guards!"_

Rajmael kept his cool, he didn't need to get all worked up for a guy who kisses ass for a living. He pulled out his invitation and handed it to the foppish prick. The man's demeanor quickly changed. "_Oh, please forgive me, messere. I didn't realize the Herald of Andraste was an elf. Please, the lady is waiting for you."_

"_Thanks. You ass-kissing cock-socket." _Rajmael said smilingly.

As they made their way up the steps, the man made the mistake of turning his nose up at Cassandra. _"Feh. Neverrans."_ He snorted.

Cassandra planted her fist into the guy's arm and knocked him off the stairs without a word. Rajmael was pretty sure he heard the man's arm break on contact.

They entered the grand ball room, and it was pact with members of Orlais' high society.

"_Now, presenting…"_ The chamberlain called. _"Rajmael of Clan Levellan, representative of the Inquisition and Herald of Andraste."_

Rajmael felt completely out of place here. These humans had more wealth than they knew what to do with, and did nothing with it. There was a civil war going on and all they could do was drink and talk with each other over fashion while men were dying on the frontlines and peasants were starving to supply the war effort.

The Herald was approached by a masked lord and a lady who weren't repulsed enough to see an elf walking amongst them.

"_A pleasure, ser."_ The lord greeted politely enough. _"It is so rare to meet someone new at these events. It is always the same crowd at these parties. Are you a guest of the Duke of Madam de Fer?"_

"_I am here for Enchanter Vivienne." _Rajmael answered. _"Is that some kind of title of hers? And who is this duke?"_

"_Madam de Fer is a…nickname of hers."_ The lord coughed. _"That the court has given to our lady host. And Duke Bastien de Ghislain is member of the Empress' personal court. He isn't here tonight, however. His personal business with the Council of Heralds often takes him away for long periods of time, it cannot be healthy for a man in his years."_

"_Are you here on business, Lord Herald?"_ The masked lady asked excitedly_. "I have heard the most incredible stories about you. Is it true that you walked out of the Fade walking hand in hand with Andraste and slew a Pride demon where the Holiest of Holies once rested?"_

Rajmael rolled his eyes at the exaggeration of that story_. "Yes, I fought against a Pride Demon, but I never saw Andraste in that Temple. Those stories tend to exaggerate."_

"_Oh? That's a shame."_ The lady said disappointedly. "_It would do so much to illuminate the legitimacy of the Inquisition."_

"_Bah! The Inquisition? What a load of pigshit!"_ Another masked noble on the balcony above them spat with disgust. Judging from the sword and pomposity, he was definitely a chevalier. He walked down with the stair towards them with arrogance in his stride. "_Crazed sisters and washed up Seekers. You can't take them seriously! Everyone knows it just a bunch of political outcasts trying to grab at power." _The noble was now invading Rajmael's personal space. _"And you dare to claim the name of our Lady Redeemer to legitimize your false cause."_

Rajmael's sword hand twitched with this human wearing too much cologne standing to close. _"I never claimed to have been sent by your dead Prophet. I have gods of my own, thank you very much."_

"_Ha! And now you admit to being a pretentious usurper as well as a Maker-forsaken heathen in front of all these witnesses?"_ The chevalier mocked_. "We know what your Inquisition truly is. If you were a man of honor you'd step outside and answer the charges."_ The chevalier's hand went for the sword on his back, and Rajmael's reflexes kicked in.

Blood sprayed across the room as a severed arm flew into the air, followed by the shrill screams of the people of the guests and the victim. Rajmael cut the chevalier's arm off before his antagonist's hand even touched his sword. The chevalier fell to the ground clutching the spot on his shoulder where his arm used to, screaming in terrible agony as blood spurted from his wound.

One of the marquis actually puked beneath his mask at the sight of so much blood. Rajmael loomed over the maimed knight with a charge of lighting crackling in his hand. Several ladies and couple lords fainted as Rajmael discharged his spell into his screaming victim's face and made his head explode. Bits of his brains, skull and mask flew into the air as his head was reduced to a stain on the floor.

Many of the guests made for the door, emptying the room. All was quiet except for the sound of applauding hands. Rajmael looked up the stairs to find his admirer was yet another woman in mask, but this one was distinctly different. For one, her skin was dusky, the color of mahogany, was she Rivaini, or from that region? The second was the magic that Rajmael could sense in her. Like Fiona's it was strong, but not as wild, more vibrant.

She didn't wear enchanter robes, only the latest fashion. A white garb the clung to her figure like a glove with silver, floral embroidery lined around her waist, shoulders and sleeves. On her head she wore a divided hennin in a shape that was reminiscent to horns but had white gold plated bird motifs on it. And like all Orlesian nobility, she wore an extravagant mask. Hers had water-like patterns flowing down her face with a lyrium gem glowing brightly on her forehead and cheeks. How many mouths could she feed with all the money she used on that much finery?

Vivienne ceased her amused ovation to the lively, albeit messy distraction. The marquis warranted his own death when reached for his sword in her house. If the Herald didn't kill him, she would have. Vivienne took a moment to observe the fabled Herald of Andraste. Hard to believe this barefoot, blood-spattered, tattooed elf in drab robes was the supposed favored chosen of their Lady Redeemer. After that little display, coupled with the fact he's an elf from the woods, she could see that he had no idea how to maneuver around this larger world he stepped into, and was in obvious need of guidance. As he was now, he was nothing more than a blunt instrument with the right name attached. But blunt instruments, like hammers, were capable of creating great and wonderful things with the right hand to guide them. Perhaps she could be the proper hand to guide him in this larger world he stepped into, and together they could make wonderful things.

"_I take it you are my host?"_ Rajmael addressed.

"_You presume correctly, my dear."_ Madam de Fer curtsied_. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Madame Vivienne, First Enchanter of the Circle of Montsimmard, and Enchantress to the Imperial Court."_

"_Well, sorry to have spoiled your soiree, Madame Vivienne." _Rajmael said half-truthfully. He hated Orlesian titles.

"_Oh, think nothing of it, darling."_ The Enchanter waved off. _"If you didn't kill him, I certainly would have. Really, a marquis and a chevalier being crass enough to insult my own guests in my own house. I'll be sure to get the servants to clean him off the floor."_

"_Prissy-bitch!"_ Sera coughed.

"_Oh, my dear Herald, what good fortune it is that you've come to me." _Vivienne lamented sympathetically. _"With such distasteful company, it's a wonder the Haven hasn't gone up in flames."_

"_You wish to aid the Inquisition?"_ Rajmael asked hesitantly.

"_My dear, I wish to do more than aid. I wish to join."_ Her answer caught Rajmael off guard_. "With Divine Justinia dead, the Chantry is in shambles. Only the Inquisition might restore order and sanity to our frightened people."_

"_Our people?" _Rajmael questioned. _"I'm sorry, but you'll need to clarify that. Our definition of 'Our People' might be different. Who are you loyal to?"_

"_Why the people of Thedas, of course. An as the leader of the last loyal mages of Thedas, I feel that it is only appropriate that I lend you my assistance. We have not forgotten the commandant lead down to us by Andraste that magic exists to serve man, unlike some."_

"_But you forget that I'm a Dalish elf. The commandments of your god and the people you serve are nothing to me."_ Rajmael informed sardonically. _"And in case you haven't noticed, we are not sanctioned by the Chantry. In fact, I spit on the Chantry."_

"_The Chantry is leaderless, my dear. They are in no position to be leading anyone. And if there is one virtue that the Chant of Light teaches us, it's forgiveness. And I'm sure once the Inquisition has sealed the Breach, I doubt the newly elected Divine will care little for official permission. "_

"_And are you a member of the faith? Don't you support the Chantry?"_

"_I was a great admirer of Divine Justinia. She was a visionary, and had she lived she would have accomplished much. At its best the Chantry unites the disparate peoples of Thedas and looks after its most vulnerable."_

Rajmael felt that thing inside me stir again, wanting to pound its way out into the world, but he ignored it. _"Well, speaking as someone who was amongst the most vulnerable, I have to say that's bullshit, and you're deluding yourself if you say otherwise. But theological allegiances aside, what do you get out of this?"_

"_Why, the same thing everyone gets by fighting this chaos: the chance to face my enemy, to decide my fate. I will not wait quietly for my destruction."_

Rajmael snorted angrily_. "You would demand to have the right that you would deny your fellow mages? How hypocritical."_

"_My dear Herald, my fellow mages lost any right to anything when they proved the Chantry's fears by becoming terrorists." _Vivienne answered earnestly. _"They have proven why this Inquisition is necessary, and why you need mages like me to aid you. Magic needs a firm, steady institution to protect and nurture magic. Maker knows magic won't find it on its own."_

"_Oh, is that what the Circles were doing?" _Rajmael sneered. _"Such loyalty is touching. And what use could I possibly have for such loyalty?"_

"_I can provide you with mages who will be loyal to you and you alone."_ Vivienne answered. _"I am well versed in Orlesian politics; I know every member of the Imperial Court personally. I am also a mage of no small talent. Surely you can see the benefits of having one such as myself?"_

This woman had an agenda and Rajmael knew it. She was acting under the guise of loyalty to a cause she actually had no stake in, being as wealthy and well connected as she was. Why the courtesy? Why the loyalty to a man who was an obvious heathen? Her high and mighty attitude irritated the fuck out of him. Still, with her connections and resources she could be a useful asset to the Inquisition. For now.

"_We will accept your request to join the Inquisition, Enchanter Vivienne."_ Rajmael answered as cordially as possible_. "I am eager to see you in action."_

"_Great things are beginning, my dear."_ Vivienne beamed through her perfect teeth_. "I can promise you that."_

Rajmael didn't know who he disliked more. The pretentious mage who rubs elbows with Orlais' notoriously corrupt nobility and all the humility and integrity of a vain peacock, or the scatter-brained elven thief with a dislike for anything elven and hatred for authority. If this was Dirthamen's idea of favor and fortune, then he was a sadistic deity with a crappy sense of humor. Hopefully this Tal-Vashoth mercenary and Grey Warden recruiter would be more pleasant company.

**The Storm Coast**

From Val Royeaux they all took ship and landed on the aptly named Storm Coast. The frigid winds whipped across their faces while the freezing cold rains beat down on them like a million stones from the skies, and the very air bit them like a dog. They were definitely back in Ferelden now. And as luck would have it the winds blew their map away. Their ship dropped Anchor a few leagues away from where they were to meet this Iron Bull.

Varric clutched his duster closer to him, the water on his chest hair was practically frozen into icicles on his chest. _"Wounded Coast, Storm Coast, is there any kind of seaside that isn't foreboding and dreadful. Like Beer Coast or Naked Lady Seaside?"_

Vivienne tried to pull out an umbrella but the turbulent winds blew it away, and almost took her hat off. _"Oh! This Fereldan weather is deplorable! For anyone to want to willingly live in such dreadful country in beyond me."_

"_Sera, you're from Ferelden aren't you?"_ Cassandra asked. _"Do you by chance know this landscape?"_

"_Pbbt! Sorry, but I'm not an 'elfy' elf._" Sera retorted. "_I don't spend my days outdoors like a tit. Try asking Solas."_

Solas grimaced at Sera's cheekiness, but ignored her. _"I'm afraid I've never spent much time on the Wounded Coast, Seeker. Normally, I've found that the Dreams to be discovered near the sea are hardly worth the effort."_

"_The Iron Bull and his company are about a hundred and twenty yards east!"_ Rajmael yelled over the whipping winds.

Did he memorize the map?

"_How do you know?"_ Cassandra asked.

"_Just head towards the giant horned guy and those others killing that group of mages over there, I guess."_ Rajmael pointed west and sure enough there was a Qunari and his men engaging a group of foreign mages.

They all ran as fast as they could, but by the time they arrived the Tevinter mages' numbers had already been reduced, and they were getting smaller. In fact. Rajmael didn't even feel the need to engage, he signaled his party to watch and enjoy the show.

The Iron Bull was big, even for a Qunari. He stood at least seven and a half feet tall and was a mountain of solid muscle. His most distinguishing feature, other than his large draconic horns, was the elaborate eye patch covering his scarred left eye. And despite the fact that it was freezing cold and raining, the qunari wasn't wearing a shirt. Just some kind of harness strapped over his shoulder and his boulder-like pecs.

He swung a massive axe with stunning force and alarming speed for someone his size. With one horizontal swing he killed three Tevinters; two were chopped in half and one was split open. A spellbinder tried to summon some kind of glyph around the qunari, but the gigantic behemoth charged him down and stomped his head in. Within minutes the Tevinter mercenaries were dead in the surf, their blood washing into the sea, while the rain washed the blood off the victors.

"_CHARGERS! Stand down."_ The Iron Bull ordered with a very booming voice. He turned to Lieutenant Cremisius. _"Krem! How'd we do?"_

"_Five or six wounded, chief. Zero dead."_ The officer answered.

"_That's what I like to hear."_ The Iron Bull grinned. _"Have the throatcutters finish up, then break out the casks."_

"_Iron Bull?"_ Rajmael finally decided to address their new hired hand. Elgar'nan's flames, this guy was tall.

"_Ah, you must be with the Inquisition? The Herald, right? Come, have a drink with me."_ The Iron Bull invited him and the both sat on some rocks on the beach. Lieutenant Aclasi approached and saluted the bull. _"I assume you remember Liuetenant Aclassi?"_

The androgynous liuetenant nodded respectfully to Rajmael. _"Good to see you again. The throatcutters have finished their work, chief."_

"_Already? Have 'em check again. I don't want those sneaky Vint bastards getting away. No offense, Krem."_

"_None taken. Least a bastard knows who his mother is. Puts one up on you Qunari, don't it?" _

Rajmael had to admit he didn't expect this mercenary to seem so chummy. From what he heard even the Tal-Vashoth were as grim and quiet a gargoyles and twice as ugly.

"_So…you've seen us fight. We're expensive but we're worth it…and I'm sure the Inquisition can afford it."_ The Iron Bull finally stated after chugging down his whole mug.

Rajmael looked at the scene of dead bodies and eviscerated corpses that were now washing out to sea. _"I have to admit, you and your men can certainly make a mess out of living creatures."_

"_Heh. Anything that walks, crawls or flies."_ The Bull laughed. _"But you're not just getting the men, you're getting me. You need a frontline bodyguard? I'm your man, whatever it is. Vints, giants, dragons? The bigger the better."_

A massive, well-trained killing machine with a hard-on for combat wanted to fight for him with the eagerness of a puppy. This was way too good to be true. _"Right. Now what's the downside? I get that you're here to make a living, but mercenaries don't willingly sign up for causes. Unless they have an ulterior motive."_

"_Heh-heh. You caught me."_ Iron Bull admitted. _"You, uh, you ever hear Ben-Hassrath?"_

"_Yes."_ Cassandra answered vehemently. _"They are the enforcers of the Qunari. Charged with watching for signs of sedition and enforcing the Qun. They are also spies."_

"_Hawke and I once went on a caper with a Ben-Hassrath agent named Tallis."_ Varric piped in. "_She…uh, she really got on Hawke's bad side."_

"_Yeah, that's them. Or us I should say."_ The Bull admitted. _"The Ben-Hassrath are concerned about the Breach. Magic out of control can cause problems everywhere. I have been ordered to join the Inquisition, get close to the people in charge, and send reports back to my superiors."_

A violent scowl appeared Cassandra's face as her hand slowly went for her sword while Varric quirked an eyebrow. Rajmael stayed calm. _"Why would a spy for the Qun willingly confess to what he is and what his objective is?"_

"_Well, if your spymaster is worth a damn she'll find out who I am eventually. I figured it'd probably be best if I just played it straight with you."_

"_She?"_ Cassandra asked_. "How did you…?"_

"_Heh, yeah, I did a little research. Plus, I have a thing for redheads."_ The qunari spy admitted.

"_And what do we get out of this arrangement?"_ Rajmael inquired.

"_I also get reports from other Ben-Hessrath agents from all over Orlais. You sign me on and I'll share them with you. I'm sure you can use all the assistance you can get."_

"_Last question, and please, be honest with me, 'cause I'll know if you're lying to me."_ Rajmael warned. _"Why would the Qunari give two steaming shits about what happens to the South?"_

"_The Qunari don't like out of control magic, and the Breach scares them."_ The spy answered. _"They want to know if they need to launch an invasion to keep the whole damned world from falling apart. I let them know you're doing good work to put their minds at ease, and they won't send the Antaam. That's good for everyone, don't you think?"_

Rajmael took a moment to think. A spy's job was to gather information and stay hidden. This one not only admitted to what he was, but says he's willing to share information on what his fellow spies have learned in the hopes of keep in the Qunari army in Par Vollen. Rajmael wasn't sure how straight-forward qunari spies could be to outsiders, but as it is, they cannot afford to have another Qunari invasion on their hands.

"All right, Bull, You're hired." Rajmael answered. "_On the condition that you run every report through Leliana. You send __**nothing**__ she doesn't approve. And if I learn that this is some kind of trick, or your reports compromise the Inquisition, you'd better hope that Cassandra gets you first, because she'll only eat you alive."_ Rajmael's eyes began to glow, which put the Qunari off a little. _"If __**I**__ get you first, I'm going to pieces off of you and sacrifice them to my gods. Starting with your balls."_

"_HA! I think we're gonna get along great, boss!" _The Iron Bull laughed. "_Hey, Krem! Tell the men to finish drinking on the road. The Chargers just got hired."_

"_But what about the casks, chief?"_ Krem complained. _"We just opened them. With axes."_

"_Seal 'em up." The Bull answered. "You're Tevinter, right? Try using blood magic."_

Rajmael rolled his eyes and walked over to the aforementioned casks. He raised his hands over them and the broken, shattered, flew back on to the rest of the cask and reattached themselves back on. The elf waved his hand over it, and the cask stopped leaking.

"_Bwa-haha-ha! Now that's some magic I could get used to!"_ The Iron Bull laughed heartily. _"I think we're going to get along great, boss!"_

**In the Hinterlands**

The Herald's ever expanding group of elite individuals made its way southward back to the Hinterlands. Leliana told him about possible meeting with this Warden Blackwall, and learn about what is happening with the Wardens of the South.

With the chaos of the Mage-Templar War gathering information was difficult. However, when they asked around some of the farmsteads about this Warden recruiter, they were told about how this valiant Warden stood his ground against the local bandits that were raiding them. Strange that a Warden recruiter would take the time to stop and defend farmers, but a worthy deed nonetheless. According to the farmers, this Warden Blackwall had taken some of their younger men and was teaching them how to defend themselves.

Rajmael led his group over to the valley where Blackwall was training his conscripts, they could hear him shouting orders from yards away. The Warden was a big man and solidly built, like he'd spent his whole life lifting weights. The Warden wore simple platemail of Grey Warden issue with insignia of the Order stamped on his chest. He had long black hair and a big, but well-kept beard that covered most of his face. If "Blackwall" wasn't his name, Blackbeard would have sufficed.

"_Remember how to hold your shield, otherwise it's useless. Plant your feet and raise it from thigh to neck. And remember, you're not hiding, you're holding."_ The Warden commanded with the voice of a veteran officer. _"They have to come to you, not the other way around."_

"_Blackwall? Warden Blackwall?"_ Rajmael called.

The Warden turned and approached the Herald, sword drawn. _"You're not-! How do you know my name? Who sent…?" _He raised his shield and an arrow flew right into its face. A large group of bandits screamed wildly and charged the valley_. "That's it!"_ The Warden cursed. _"You! Help or get out. We're dealing with these idiots first."_

"_You're DEAD, bastard!"_ one of the brigands screamed.

"_It didn't have to be this way!"_ Blackwall yelled.

"_Too late for that!" _The bandit leader charged, screaming like a psychopath.

The Warden charged the bandits with a shield bash that sent them flying. He used his foot and body weight to crush a nearby, downed enemy. Another charged in from behind with a giant maul, but Blackwall ducked beneath the attack and shoved his sword through the man's gut and out his back. And a third attacker came at the Warden with a hand axe and managed to plant it in the face of the Warden's shield. Blackwall head-butted his attacker so hard his forehead and nose caved in.

The conscripts formed a tight shield-wall and marched towards the charging bandits, while the Warden charged ahead to soften them up. Rajmael and the others joined the fray. The mages unleashed their spells while Sera and Varric launched accurate shots into the bandits' skulls. Cassandra and Iron Bull charged in with their weapons. Within minutes the bandits were dead in the dirt.

Blackwall stood over the one of the bodies of the slain with a most sympathetic look on his face. "_You poor, stupid bastard. It didn't need to be this way, men. They could have…well, thieves are made not born. They made their choice."_ He sighed sadly_. "Conscripts! Good work. Take back what they stole, back to your homes now, and know that there isn't an enemy you can't face now."_

The farmers all left with a renewed sense of courage and strength in the spirits.

Blackwall turned his attention back to the Herald. "_Now, you. What do you want? Who are you?"_

Rajmael nodded his head respectfully. His Keeper always told if there was ever an institution worthy of respect it was The Order of The Grey. "_I am an agent of the Inquisition, Warden Blackwall. And I'm investigating as to why it seems your Order has disappeared. I was hoping you could shed some light on the situation."_

"_I haven't seen any Wardens for months, I better off recruiting on my own."_ Blackwall answered calmly. _"But that's not so strange, is it? The Archdemon is ten years dead. Blight over, job done. Wardens are always the first things forgotten. My question is why does the Inquisition care what the Wardens are up to?"_

"_We're investigating whether their disappearance and the Divine's murder are connected."_ Rajmael answered honestly.

Blackwall never heard anything so ridiculous _"What? Maker's Balls. The Divine's…? You can't possible think….No you're asking so you don't really know. No, I don't know anything about the Wardens and the Divine, but I can tell you this. No Warden killed Her Most Holy. Our purpose isn't political."_

"_Well, then where have they gone? An order such as yours isn't made of smoke and mirrors. How can you not know?"_

"_I'm a recruiter, I spend most of my time alone in the wilderness going from place to place looking for recruits."_ Blackwall answered. _"And I have no idea where the others went. Perhaps an order was made in Hossberg and they've returned to the fortress of Weisshupt."_

Rajmael asked for answer but instead got more questions. "_What purpose could you possibly find in aiding farmers who'll probably never even see a darkspawn?"_ Rajmael inquired. "_These people will never serve no function for your cause."_

"_I don't need a cause to help desperate men fight off thieving bastards."_ Blackwall replied_. "As a Warden my job is to save people. Not all monsters are darkspawn."_

That was a satisfactory answer, one worthy of a Warden. "_You fought well here, Warden. I wish you luck in the days ahead, may your Order find victory."_

For a moment Blackwall thought of just turning around and going back to the wilderness and what he'd done before. But something told him that this Inquisition was the higher path_. "Wait…Rajmael, was it? The Divine is dead and the sky has been ripped asunder. The world is going to shit and no one except you seems to be doing anything. Its times like these that you'd expect a Warden to come to your aid. Maybe I'm that Warden."_

That was a surprise. "_Admirable, but what could one Warden possibly do against all that?"_ Rajmael asked pointing towards the ripped sky.

"_Last I heard Warden-Commander Cousland was only one man, and solved a civil war and slew an Archdemon in single combat."_ Blackwall chuckled. _"And besides, what Warden who's ever lived didn't serve to save the fuckin' world? I may not know shit about demons, but I do know how to charge the enemy and take a hill, and I do a damned good job of it."_

A wide grin spread across Rajmael's face. _"Warden Blackwall, welcome to the Inquisition. We are honored to have a member of the Order of The Grey in our ranks."_

"_Thanks. You won't regret this. I swear it."_

So. A scatter-brained thief with the attention span of a flea. An Imperial Enchanter with a stick up her ass and an ulterior motive, who thinks mages should be leashed. A Qunari spy who actually liked laughing, drinking and fucking, and was here to spy on them for the Qun. And now they had a lone Warden who didn't seem to know what the fuck his own Order was doing. Rajmael couldn't help but laugh at how cruel the Creators' sense of humor was. Ladies and gentlemen, here were the saviors of the world.


	6. Come Get To Know Me

**Come Get To Know Me**

"_No! That is absolutely ridiculous!"_ Leliana denied angrily_. "The whole notion is foolish! How can you even make that suggestion?"_

"_The Ash Warriors are the most renowned group of fighters in all of Ferelden!"_ Cullen argued. _"We need seasoned warriors, not green pilgrims and farm hands leading our forces into battle."_

"_Plus the Ash Warriors are considered heroes by the people of Ferelden."_ Josephine added with her quill and clipboard in hand. _"Mercenaries who only fight for just causes? It would give us a great deal of credibility with the Fereldan people."_

"_Relying on their past history and ignoring their current history could do more damage than good."_ Leliana shot back.

"_I know you and their current commander have a history, Leliana. But surely you must see that the advantages to having them with us outweighs the possible risks?"_ Josephine reasoned with that innocent smile urging her.

"_A history?"_ Leliana scoffed. _"Josie, I saw the things that vile woman did for Loghain during the Blight. The things she helped Teyrn Mac Tir do to his own people! She knew Loghain was selling people to slavery and torturing them! Warden-Commander Aedan wanted to banish them and force them to live their lives in shame until they died from humiliation. Now you want the likes of Ser Cauthrien to join us?"_

"_Leliana, you know that Ash Warriors have no past."_ Cullen reminded. _"By Fereldan law and custom, Cauthrien and her men are officially dead and their crimes expunged. And finding a worthy death is their only goal. And you said before that we cannot let grudges or mistakes from the past cloud our judgment now."_

Leliana grunted in frustration and crossed her arms. What would Aedan think of this? To be counted amongst the same ranks as traitors would have made him punch something until it died, and right now she wanted to do it. Knowing Aedan, when he was forced to do something he didn't want to, he made it incredibly clear how he felt and what the other guy should be wary of. Now was the time to follow his example instead of being charming_. "Very well, Josie. Send Cauthrien an invitation, if you must. But make sure that she knows, in no uncertain terms, that I will be watching. And if I so much as sniff an act of sedition or betrayal from her or her men, she'll never know she's dead until she's already greeted the Maker."_

There was a frightened look of shock plastered on the other two advisors' faces. Where did Leliana learn to be so scary_? "I…I will make sure Ser Cauthrien and her men receive your message, Leliana."_ Josephine finally confirmed after shaking herself out of shock.

Leliana strutted out of the War Room. Maker, this made her mad, but she would not show it. As the spymaster for the Inquisition she must maintain the mask of being cold and aloof. But on the inside she could feel herself burning with anger over this; she hated being so desperate that she had to call on the likes of Ser Cauthrien to aid them. The Maker teaches forgiveness and charity to those who have wronged, but that doesn't change how she felt.

Leliana dreaded to think what Aedan would do if he was here. He'd probably maim half the people in Haven just for assuming he was an Andrastian. Rajmael may have worshipped different gods, but at least he wasn't very violent with them. She wished the Chantry had such a behavior.

**~XoXoXo~**

After so much time spent gathering information and people, Rajmael felt it was time for them to return back to base to resupply and determine their next move. And it would behoove Rajmael to know a couple of the new people he's picked up.

Starting with The Iron Bull. The ben-hessrath agent was standing outside the gates of Haven observing them men training. Rajmael took note of how intently Bull's single eye observed the soldiers.

"_You've got some good men. Cullen trains them well."_ Bull pointed out.

"_Yes, he does. Hopefully they'll be ready to fight a real threat when the time comes for it."_

"_Oh, they'll be ready."_ Bull promised. _"Nothing puts a fire in a man's belly than a cause worth fighting for. Just like in the Antaam or the Ben-Hassrath, we're taught to believe in the qun and that everything we do if for it. Of course, it helps when the end of the world is on your doorstep."_

"_Yeah, then everyone gets drawn into this crap whether they like it or not."_ Rajmael remembered as rubbed the spot where Cassandra slugged him.

"_Yeah, I heard about how you were dragged in." Bull laughed. "I can't even imagine walking out of that, going up to that monstrosity, and then getting knocked around by something that terrible and living! You've gotta have a pair made of solid brass."_

"_I don't remember how I survived the Breach."_ Rajmael explained.

"_I know. I was talking about Cassandra."_ Both of them busted out laughing, and were extremely glad the Seeker wasn't around to hear that. _"But seriously, though, I heard you singlehandedly fought a Pride Demon in single combat and cut it down to size. I got to know if they were telling the truth about that."_

"_Yes."_ Rajmael smiled. _"My people call such creatures Solas'heral, nightmare of pride. And I cut its arm off, then finished it off with this sword."_ Rajmael unsheathed his sword and offered it to Iron Bull.

Iron Bull carefully grasped the in his hand and was shocked at how light it was. It was not a greatsword like he was led to believe, but even for its size it weighed almost nothing. As he looked closer at the blade, he realized that it was made of…wood? What the shit kind of weapons do those Dalish elves use?

"_Weird. I heard you were a mage. But you carry a sword?"_ The Bull asked as he handed the sword back to its owner_. "And your magic is different, too. You carry yourself more like a warrior than a mage."_

"_That's because I am both."_ Rajmael answered proudly. _"The Arcane Warriors are the personification of will made reality. My magic and my will are one."_

"_Yeah, that's…that's not something I'm used to."_ Bull answered skeptically. _"I mean, I believe what you're saying, but growing up under the Qun we're taught that mages are incapable of controlling themselves."_

"_Yes."_ Rajmael said grimly. _"I've heard what your people do to your mages. How you…bind and cage them like animals, and sew their lips shut. What's that word your people have for them? Serabaas? Unwanted thing, right."_ He could feel that thing buried inside him start stir angrily with each word.

"_Hey, take it easy."_ Bull insisted. He could feel the anger rising in the Herald_. "I don't think you've got enough experience with Qunari to actually judge how we live."_

"_No? Maybe not. But I do have experience with being abused simply because I was born with magic. To be hated, spat on and tortured. I do think I know what I'm talking about, Iron Bull."_ Rajmael seethed as he remembered every painful detail.

"_Mages don't got it easy anywhere, boss. That's a fact."_

"_It's a fact because institutions like the Qun and the Chantry teach people, mages or not, that magic is dangerous. That it should be feared and shoved into a corner and forgotten. And you enforce that?"_

"_Hey! I'm not an Arvaarad!"_ Iron Bull snapped. _"And I feel sorry for every bastard that is because they've obviously got something wrong with them to be assigned such a duty. That wasn't me."_

"_Then what were you?"_

"_I was charged with seeking out threats to the people, not the philosophy but the people living under our philosophy. Tevinter agents, Fog Warriors…Tal-Vashoth."_ He said that last word with particular hate_. "I hunted those kinds of people down because they were a threat. Not mages."_

"_Then what did you do as a ben-hassrath?"_ Rajmael asked as he tried to calm down, tried to bury that thing inside him. _"What was life like for you as a spy?"_

"_Eh, constant fighting. Day in day out, nothing but a lot of blood. From both sides. I hated getting to know the men under my command because I knew that I'd lose some of them every week."_ Bull explained wearily. "_Sometimes I'd be out on patrol looking for these farmers who went missing a few nights ago, hoping that maybe a jungle cat got to them."_

"_You hoped a wild animal caught them?"_

"_What the Tal-Vashoth do their prisoner ain't pretty. And they do it just for kicks."_

"_From the way I saw you kill those Tevinter mercenaries I thought you enjoyed a good fight."_

"_Yeah, well, there's having a good fight, killing some other asshole because he wants to kill you. And then there's tracking down which rebel group or Tevinter spy cell threw bombs into a children's dormitory. I lost a lot of good men, even friends, to the Vints, Fog Warriors and Tal-Vashoth. One morning I just woke up and couldn't find I damn good reason to do my job. So turned myself over to the re-educators."_

"_Why would you do that?" _Rajmael asked disbelievingly_. "Weren't you scared of what they would do?"_

"_I was scared shitless."_ Bull admitted. _"But I knew it was my duty to let the Tamassrans fix me if they could. They knew I was burnt out and tired, so they sent me to Orlais under the guise of a mercenary to watch Orlais' activities."_

"_Why Orlais, just out of curiosity."_ Rajmael inquired.

"_Well, supposedly, they're the most powerful country in the South and the leaders of the Qun want to know what's going on with them."_ Bull answered. _"The new Arishok said to just leave Fereldan alone. That they were a country worth respecting. Personally, I think it's because he knows what the Hero of Ferelden capable of."_

"_There's just one last thing I'm curious about, Bull. Why tell me you're a spy? Why tell me anything at all? What could an agent of the Qun hope to gain by informing the person he's been sent to spy on?"_

"_I've got no secrets from people I shed blood with, boss."_ The Iron Bull answered honestly_. "And I don't betray the trust of those who watch my back. Qunari or bas, when shit hits the fan the only people we're going to have are the ones at our back."_

Nostalgia came over Rajmael as one of his fondest memories flooded back into his mind. Nethras, his adopted brother, once said that to him. Nethras taught him that in all the whole span of the world, the only ones a person could trust was family, and to a Dalish elf, his clan was his family_. "Iron Bull, I think you and I are going to get along very well."_

"_Buy me and the boys a few drinks and we'll get along great!" _The Iron Bull laughed.

**~XoXoXo~**

As Rajmael walked away from Iron Bull he noticed Blackwall standing by himself by the forge, staring at the sundered sky.

"_Enjoying the view?"_ Rajmael inquired humorously.

"_Wondering, actually."_ Blackwall answered truthfully. _"Who could be so powerful to make an explosion that it could render the heavens?"_

"_That's what the Inquisition is trying to find out."_

"_And a good thing, too." _Blackwall stated. "_With the chaos going on all over, most people are either too scared are too selfish to do anything. It's good to see some people making a stand, even if it seems impossible. Tell me, is it true about what they say about you?"_

Here we go again, Rajmael thought. _"That depends, what do they say?"_

"_That you were guided out of the fade be Andraste herself."_

Rajmael gave a sigh. "_To be honest, I don't know, nor do I give a damn. I don't worship Andraste, and I highly doubt she'd waste her time on a heathen."_

Blackwall shook his head in embarrasment. _"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. I guess it doesn't matter, you've got the mark and you've got the job, so long as you can close the breach and save us all, that's good enough for me."_

"_Most people wouldn't be so accepting of heathen elf taking up such a mantle."_ Rajmael pointed out. _"As demonstrated by what I saw in Val Royeaux."_

"_Most people, especially in Val Royeaux, have never even seen an arrow come their way. Never even heard of a demon attack. But they'll stick their heads in the sand tell themselves whatever they want to hear to make sure their lives remain undisturbed. Men like us fight so people like them can keep sticking their heads in the sand instead of being put on a pike."_

Rajmael's face became somewhat bitter. _"Is this what the life of a Grey Warden is like? To live and die going up against horrors most people will never see or even honor?"_

"_Living for a cause is never easy."_ Blackwall answered solemnly. _"But sometimes, it's the only thing that makes a life worth living."_

"_Is that why you became a Grey Warden? To live for a cause and give your life meaning?"_

Blackwall returned the comment with a chuckle. _"Yes. To be a Grey Warden means to give your entire life to the Order and their cause, and the only one you can depend on are your fellow brothers. It's infinitely better than they life I once led."_

_That sounded like an interesting subject, Rajmael thought. "So…where are you from, originally?"_

"_The Free Marches."_ Blackwall answered. _"Spent most of my early life in Ostwick."_

"_Yeah, but when did you become a Grey Warden?"_ Rajmael asked insistently. _"You fight the same way an infantry knight fights, judging from how you use your sword and shield. And it takes a special kind of man to train and inspire farmers to become skilled militia, which means at some point you were a military commander, or something close to that."_ Despite the fact that Blackwall's facial expression well hidden behind that curtain of facial hair, Rajmael could see his guess was pretty accurate.

"_Let's just say I…impressed the right person at the right time. And I've been wearing silver and blue ever since."_ Blackwall returned almost regretfully. _"Whatever I was before doesn't matter, I'm a Grey Warden fighting for your cause and that is the point." Blackwall said with finality. _

"_All right, I won't press you, your past is your own business so long as you can assist and not deter the Inquisition."_

"_That is my goal, Herald."_ The Warden promised.

**~XoXoXo~**

Varric saw Rajmael walking his way through the village and decided to walk alongside him, laughing about the familiarity of their situation. _"So, now we have an actual member of the Ben-Hessrath traveling with, and making reports on us. An arrow-happy, nonsensical elf. A powerful mage who could make half the Orlesian nobility shit themselves. And a Grey Warden. Maker's Breath, my life's starting feel more normal now."_

"_Normal?"_ Rajmael questioned. _"How in the name of all things hot and sexy could you consider this to be normal?"_

"_Hey, you gotta remember I used to travel with a former elven slave, a Dalish bloodmage, a lying pirate who was always looking to billow her sails, a Chantry choirboy, and a rebel Grey Warden. After a decade of hanging out with those loonies in Kirkwall, abnormal is my lifestyle."_

"_Ha-ha! I see your point. So, am in the newest Champion you'll write chronicles about?"_

Varric put his thumb and index finger on his solid chin with a thoughtful look on his face. _"Well, let's see. Have you ever stopped a Qunari invasion, or delved so far into the Deep Roads even the Wardens were shocked?"_

"_Well…no, not yet."_ Rajmael answered sheepishly. _"But who's to say it won't happen?_

"_Then, sorry."_ Varric chuckled. _"Besides, this world's already got a legendary Champion to look up to. You've got make your own reputation, and being called the Herald of Andraste, and slaying a Pride Demon in the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes is a good start. And being Dalish is a good way to catch peoples' attention, makes them stop to think."_

The fact that he's Dalish reminded Rajmael of something. _"You said that Hawk's paramour was Dalish. What was she like?"_

"_Merrill?" _Varric took a moment to fondly remember the shy, sweet girl who'd take the time to coo at snarling dogs and chase butterflies_. "Merrill was a very sweet girl. About as shy and as delicate as a Daisy. I think the meanest thing I ever saw her do was make frowny faces. She was a talented mage, too. The First of her clan, in fact. But she had to leave them because her Keeper and most of her clan wouldn't accept what she was trying to do."_

That was odd. _"What was she trying to that she was forced to leave her own clan?"_

"_I don't know the full details," _Varric sighed._ "But she found an ancient elven artifact called an eluvian, and she tried to repair it using blood magic._ _I don't know if it was the eluvian or the fact she was using bloodmagic, or both, but no one in her clan was willing to accept what she was doing, so she left with Hawke. And eventually the two of them became really close."_

Rajmael's eyes went as wide as dinner plates. _"An eluvian? A real eluvian? I've read books and studied lore about such artifacts. Varric, what happened to it?"_

"_Last I heard it was still hanging out in her house. Why?"_

"_Such a discovery could do so much for our people. How could her clan just discard that?"_ Rajmael couldn't believe it.

"_I guess you don't have a problem with bloodmagic, then?"_

"_All magic is a means to an end. Using blood is no more evil than using lightning to kill a man." _Rajmael explained_. "I once heard of a Keeper who used bloodmagic to heal his whole clan, but at the cost of his own life. There is no such thing as good or evil magic. Only good and evil intentions."_

"_Wow. If only Daisy's Keeper felt that way."_ Varric said sadly. He decided to change the subject to something different before he was reminded too much of the really sad memory of Merrill crying. _"You know, I'm actually glad the guy leading us against the Breach is a mage. Maker knows that only solution to a magical problem is probably going to be more magic."_

"_And I've gotta say, I'm ecstatic to be in the company of some as refined and delicate as you."_ Rajmael said sincerely with a little twinkle in his eye.

"_Er, wow. I, uh, didn't know you felt like that."_ Varric said nervously. _"I'm flattered, but I'm already taken."_

"_I was talking to Bianca, Varric."_ Rajmael revealed with his eyes set on the dwarf's precious crossbow. _"The way she launches arrows is true poetry."_

Varric clutched Bianca closely to his chest to keep the conniving elf away from her. _"Whoa, now! Just be careful with that kind of talk. You can look but not touch!"_

"_But that'll only tempt me until I'm no longer able to resist. It's almost too much to handle."_

"_You've got a long pointy sword."_ Varric pointed out. _"Go play with that."_

Rajmael laughed and waved off his little joke and walked away. Varric was left alone with a concerned look on his face as he held his precious closely to his chest and whispered loving things to it, just so she remembered how much he loved her.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael decided to finally pay the tavern a visit, it had been ages since he had a drink, and Sylaise knew he really needed one right now. He went to bar and tried to get the barkeeps attention. "Excuse me, a pint of mead, if you'd be so kind."

"_Right you are, ser. I'm Flissa, your…Oh!"_ The woman went pale and dropped the empty mug she was holding. From her reaction you'd think a darkspawn just walked up to her. _"Oh, y-you're him, aren't you? The Herald of Andraste! And you've come to shame us for how we've treated the elves. I-I pay my elves goof and proper you should know, friend of the Alienage and all."_

Rajmael was getting tired of people making assumptions about him and treating the ridiculous notion that he was Andraste's Herald like it should actually mean something. _"Flissa, relax. I'm not from an Alienage, I'm Dalish. And I'm not here to judge you for your sins, I'm just here for a drink."_

"_Oh. Well, that explains the marks on your face. I mean, one pint of mead coming up…your worship."_ Flisaa went and got a fresh mug and filled it full of mead, her hand still shook as she handed it to Rajmael.

Rajmael finally had a seat, lit his sylvanwood pipe and finally had long quaff of his drink. Before he relaxed any further he decided to make prayer to Sylaise and sprinkle some moss ash on the floor beneath him to invoke her favor.

"_Hey, you!"_ Sera popped out of nowhere, almost interrupting Rajmael's prayer. _"So, this is it, huh? I thought it'd be bigger."_ She giggled incessantly at her own words while Rajmael kept praying. _"Get it? Because I said 'bigger' and you're a guy so….Oh, never mind."_ She finally gave up when she saw Rajmael wasn't going to stop until he finished his prayer, much to her dismay.

"_And how're you doing, Sera?"_ Rajmael asked disinterestedly.

"_Me? Oh, good, real good. Glad to see the Herald's not an arse, like I thought you'd be. Saw how talked to Flissa over there." Sera's goofy grin suddenly became a grimace. "Could be a little less elfy, though."_

There was that tone again. The way she said that word. It made that feeling inside him stir. _"You said that the first time we met. What's wrong with me being an elf? Or have you never looked in a mirror before?"_

"_Got no problems with elves. I just don't think they should act elfy." _Sera answered glibly.

"_The elves are people. That's like telling a Fereldan not to be a Fereldan. It makes no sense."_

"_Sure it does! Like those elves that live in the forest, or that Solas. Got their heads crammed so far up a thousand years ago they don't know what time it is. I prefer not going around barefoot and whining about what happened to a bunch of dead people."_

"_There's more to the traditions of our people than that, Sera."_ Rajmael retorted_. "Our people created an entire culture that doesn't deserve to be forgotten."_

"_Why?"_ Sera snorted. _"It's not like it does anyone any good, it's all just a bunch of rubbish from dead people who lost. Sorry, but I think elfy things are stupid, and people who think it actually means anything are more stupid."_

"_And what've you done with your life that's had any meaning to anyone other than yourself?"_ Rajmael asked with growing hostility.

"_What's that matter? I'm fine on my own, not trying to resurrect the Dales and live like an elf. And if elves trying to live like a thousand years ago and get hurt, well, I think they had it coming, cause that's all that ever happens."_

Rajmael gripped his pipe in his hand with such angry force it almost threatened to break. That thing inside him wanted to claw its way out and break Sera's neck, but he ignored it. But he wasn't going to let her insult his heritage to his face and get away with it. He took a long drag of his pipe and slowly exhaled it through his nose. _"You know, it's funny, Sera. You sound exactly like the elves who murdered my parents. That was almost the same thing they said to justify their betrayal."_

Sera's eyes went wide slightly with guilt. _"What? No, I didn't mean…."_

"_I know what you meant! I grew up with self-centered shits like you!"_ Rajmael screamed, making the whole tavern go silent. _"You're not an elf, I get it. But if you insult my culture, you're not just insulting me, you're insulting my clan and my stepdaughter. And I'll be dead before I let anyone insult Eva to my face!"_ The angered Herald got up from his seat and pushed his drink away. _"Now, if you'll excuse me, set'lin, I need to go. Before I get too drunk and forget that I actually have a conscience. I don't want Flissa to clean up the mess I'd make out of you."_

Rajmael stormed out of the tavern and slammed the door behind him, leaving Sera alone in the tavern with everyone glaring at her, and making her feel like an ass. When it finally became evident that they weren't going to stop giving her the stink-eye she decided to make her way out.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael strutted through the camp trying to walk off his anger and keep that thing inside him from coming out. He had remain calm. Followers of Dirthamen don't become homicidal on the whims of emotion, and Arcane Warriors don't stain their blades with the blood with the unworthy.

"_Having problems with our residential troublemaker, dear?"_ Vivienne asked as she was directing some laborers to move her belongings into the Chantry.

Oh, great. Rajmael thought to himself. This bitch is all I need right now. _"I think Sera got the message, Vivienne."_

"_I wouldn't be surprised if she did, dear. You have quiet an authoritative voice."_ Vivienne complimented. _"It is good you let Sera know where she stood. Can't have underlings thinking they can speak smugly to their betters."_

Of course an Orlesian would think that. Her arrogance was offensive. _"I didn't jump down her throat simply for speaking her mind. I chewed her out because I will not let anyone insult my people to my face. I expect the same thing from anyone else."_

"_Of course, dear. I understand completely. Anyone who willingly agitates the powerful deserves to to know the consequences, at the very least."_ Vivienne spoke as a true elitist. _"You're remarkably skilled, but you've never been to a Circle as far as I can tell."_ Vivienne observed_. "Are you self-taught?"_

"_Hardly. I was taught by my Keeper, Istimaethoriel Deshana of Clan Lavellan."_ Rajmael answered proudly.

"_I have heard of the magic of the Dalish elves, but its only third-hand knowledge. I notice that you mix martial fortitude with your magical capabilities. I use similar magic, myself. Tell me, have you ever heard of the Knight-Enchanters?"_

It took all of Rajmael's willpower not to gag at the mere mentioning of that class. _"I've…ahem, I've heard of them, yes."_

"_That is good to hear, darling." _Vivienne chuckled haughtily_. "Mages such as us should be making an example while leading our peers."_

At first Rajmael wanted to gag, but now he wanted to vomit. Being compared to those Chantry suck-ups who used diluted techniques stolen from his people was sickening. And Vivienne's unwelcome familiarity with him wasn't very pleasant either. Maybe she needed to take her own advice, and learn her place.

"_Vivienne, would be so kind as to walk with me?"_ Rajmael smiled widely at Vivienne as he offered his arm.

"_I'd be delighted, dear."_ Vivinne graciously took his arm and the two walked to the middle of Haven just outside the Chantry, where everyone was working.

Rajmael stopped right in the middle of the camp and patted Vivienne's arm. _"Now, Vivienne would be so kind as to stand right here?"_

"_Whatever for, darling?"_ Vivienne asked slightly confused.

"_I think you and I need to show some of our peers, who look up to us, what we are capable of. It'd do so well for us to inspire them."_

Vivienne looked around and noticed that everyone was indeed looking at them. And if there's one thing she knew from playing the Game, it was to always keep up appearances. _"Very well, Herald. What do you have in mind?"_

"_Please, just stand right here."_ Rajmael insisted. Vivienne did as she was asked and Rajmael walked away from her. When he had reached six paces he planted his sword into the ground and plucked a blade of grass out from under the snow, then continued walking. When he reached twelve paces from Vivienne, with his sword far out of reach, he turned back to her. _"Now, Vivienne, would please be so kind as to throw your most powerful offensive spell at me, and don't hold back."_

"_What?"_ Vivienne asked incredulously. _"Are you serious?"_

"_I'm about as serious as the Breach, Vivienne."_ Rajmael answered dangerously. _"And besides, now we've got an audience. It just wouldn't do to slink off now, would it?"_

Indeed, it seemed half the village had gathered. Even in the Orlesian Court, Vivienne had seen powerful nobles have their reputations destroyed because of mouthy servants and laborers seeing something embarrassing and talking about it. _"Very well, darling. But your sword is so far away. Don't think it would be wise to grab it?"_

"_Oh, I won't need it, Vivienne."_ Rajmael promised. _"So, please, don't hold back. Because if you do, I'll know, and I'd be very disappointed."_

"_Very well, dear."_ The Imperial Enchantress relented despondently. _"I hope you know what you're doing."_ She grabbed her staff and whirled it as she conjured a powerful offensive spell, she would not be responsible for the consequences. She tapped into the fade and felt its energy course through her as she channeled it through her veins and to her staff as powerful attack.

She threw a massive ball of flame with intensity of dragon fire, Vivienne could almost feel it scorch her face. It flew at Rajmael at full force, but he didn't set up any barriers or even move. He was going to be burnt to cinders.

Just as the fireball was about to consume the Herald, it was sent flying skyward where it exploded like a volcano by an ethereal blade, then as quick as lightning, the blade extended from Rajmael's hand and went flying right at Vivienne. It stopped right in front of her left eye.

Vivienne was stunned. How did he do that? Rajmael's sword was still planted in the ground. Rajmael walked up to her, the sword grew shorter with each step he took but tip was still held up in front of her face. Vivienne looked at the blade held in the Herald's hand and realized that the mysterious magical blade was actually the blade of grass clutched between his fingertips. Impossible.

Rajmael retracted the blade from Vivienne's shocked face and held the piece of grass in front of her. _"This blade of grass is stronger. More in tuned with nature. And full of life. And when your rigid, stale, Circle magic cannot match the power and formidability of this little thing here, all I can say is…You. Are. Fucked."_ Rajmael's eyes flashed dangerously as he glared at Vivienne. _"Don't ever compare your magic to mine, Vivienne. It's as insulting as it is a fucking lie."_

Vivienne felt a cold rage churning inside her. She had just been showed up by an elf of all things in front of everyone in the Inquisition. She could hear that impudent Sera and that abhorrent apostate, Solas, laughing at her. _"Such magic is impressive, indeed."_ She cringed. _"But do you really think all mages have your strength of will? What will become of the Circle, I wonder? Do you foresee the Dalish taking us all under their wing?"_

"_Your Circles have failed. A thousand years of abuse, mistreatment and fear led to this war."_ Rajmael answered without looking back. "_Was it truly a wonder they struck first?"_

"_What happened in Kirkwall was lamentable, but you can't ignore the fact that mages need a Circle to protect and train them."_ Vivienne argued to Rajmael's back. "_Maker knows, they'll find neither on their own. Tell me, what happens to the unfortunate Dalish mage who isn't lucky enough to be first or second?"_

Rajmael went stiff as a board, as he felt that thing inside him stir at that question. How dare she? _"I wouldn't know. Seeing as I was originally the Fourth of my clan."_

"_How fortunate, but there are other mages amongst your people who have not been so lucky."_ Vivienne practically sneered. _"For those who value survival, sentimentality is a weakness. One that my foolish brethren have ignored and used as an excuse to become terrorists."_

"_The opinion of a mage who wasn't even important enough to be at the Conclave, means less than nothing to me."_ Rajmael looked back at her with that dangerous glare in his eyes. _"Don't you ever fucking speak of my people with such disrespect again, Vivienne. That's your only warning."_

Rajmael left for the Chantry, leaving Vivienne angry and confounded. This ignorant elf knew nothing of the world or what needed to be done. His people deliberately isolated themselves from the rest of the world and had no idea how it truly functions. And now this wide-eyed, naïve elf possessed a power he knew nothing of, and with it he could destroy everything she has worked for. No, this Inquisition needed her. To guide it back to order and make sure that the mages and Templars both maintained their place in the world. And she would make sure that this misguided Herald was led down the right path, whether he knew it or not.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael entered the Chantry to speak with the War Council and go over what they've learned and what they must do.

"_It is good you've returned, Herald."_ Josephine greeted whole heartedly_. "We've heard about what happened with the Chantry."_

"_It's a shame the Templars have abandoned their senses, as well as the capital." _Cullen griped. "_It seems they're more content to wage war than perform the duty."_

"_At least we know now that the Chantry is no real threat to us."_ Rajmael reminded. _"Without their military arm or a Divine to lead them, they're all but useless."_

"_That may be_." Cassandra agreed dismally. "_But the Lord-Seeker may be a threat all on his own. He is…not what I remember."_

"_That is true."_ Leliana voiced. _"He has taken what's left of the Order and fortified them at Therinfall Redoubt. My scouts' reports from there have been rather strange."_

"_We have to look into it."_ Cullen urged. _"Surely not all of the Order supports Lucien's madness. We may still save them yet."_

"_Or we could approach the rebel mages in Redcliffe."_ Josephine suggested. "_If anyone is desperate for allies, it would be them."_

"_You think the mages are more untied? It could be ten times worse!"_ Cullen argued.

"_So we should just discard them?"_ Josephine continued. _"The mages are powerful and maybe our key to closing the Rift."_

"_They are powerful, Ambassador, but more desperate then you realize."_ Cassandra reminded. _"Anyone of them could have been responsible for what happened at the Conclave."_

"_The same could be said about the Templars."_ Leliana pointed out_. "From what I understand, they had more to lose if Justinia had her way after they broke their vows."_

"_First thing's first."_ Rajmael said authoritatively as he looked at the War Map. _"We must approach either faction from a position of strength rather than desperation. If we go to them weak and begging for aid, they can demand whatever they wish from us. But if we approach them with strength and accomplishment behind us, they will know we are to be reckoned with."_

"_A sound strategy."_ Leliana agreed. _"It is never wise to be the weaker party at the negotiating table."_

"_Agreed. Both sides respect accomplishment more than supposed promises."_ Cullen nodded.

"_And this will also earn us some friends in the Bannorn." _Josephine pointed out. _"Many Ferelden lords were killed at the Conclave, leaving the region in chaos. The people and the crown will most likely support our efforts for stability."_

"_We will leave to depart soon."_ Rajmael announced. _"Ready the scouts and any Inquisition forces we can spare. Then send messages out to the locals that the Inquisition is there to provide aid."_

**~XoXoXo~**

The War Council departed to make their preparations. Rajmael saw Mother Giselle speaking with a Chanter.

"_Greetings, Herald of Andraste."_ The Mother welcomed politely. _"How fares your quest to seal the Breach?"_

"_It's a colossal pain in the ass." _Rajmael answered with voice full of agitation. "_Everyone is looking to profit from the chaos or run in circles about it. Now people are looking to me to hold their hand and get them through it."_

"_Blessed are those who stand before the wicked and do not falter."_ The Chanter quoted.

Mother Giselle nodded her head thankfully to the Chanter_. "The task of closing the Breach is a heavy burden, but you are no longer alone in you task. Look to Andraste. While she carried the Chant, she did not do it by herself. She had generals, advisors, and though it is considered heresy to speak of, she also had the Elven war leader, Thane Shartan guiding her. Carry yourself through your task well, but never forget those who stand to aid you."_

Rajmael grimaced as the disdain with which Mother Giselle mentioned Thane Shartan and spat on the ground of the Chantry. "_You realize that I worship the Creators of the Elvhen, not the Maker, I hope."_

"_Fair enough." _Giselle sighed. _"But whether or not you follow the Chant of Light, Andraste was real."_

"_So was Thane Shartan."_ Rajmael interjected angrily. That was a fact most humans tried to erase.

"_And both their deeds are set in fact."_ Mother Giselle finished. _"In any event, I pray this Inquisition is less…brutal than its predecessor."_

"_Oh? How do you mean?"_

"_The First Inquisition was formed in a time when dangerous magic and dark cults swarmed the land, after the First Blight and before the foundation of the Chantry."_ Giselle explained. _"The Inquisitors were hunters and warriors who hunted these dangerous sects down. In the time of Andraste, they came into her service, and after she was slain, they tried to spread the Chant of Light by force."_

"_Sounds familiar."_ Rajmael snorted_. "Seems the Original Inquisition and the Chantry I know have a lot in common."_

"_But that was not how it was meant to be."_ Giselle argued. _"When their time was over, they formed the Circles and the Templar Order. They sheathed their swords and tried to work to peace as Andraste preached. She believed in coexistence, and wanted the Chant of Light to be spread by example. We win no converts by shedding blood."_

Rajmael felt his that thing inside him start to stir. Again. And it wanted out. _"Well, then by that rationale, you're either a hypocrite, or a liar. As evidenced by the Exalted March on people."_

A hurt look spread across Giselle's face at the mentioning of that part of history. _"That is a hotly debated topic in many circles. Your people invaded Montsimmard and were ready to invade Val Royeaux. And even then it was only Orlais that sent forces against the Dales."_

"_And then you made a liar out of Andraste by giving the Dales to the Orlesian Empire!"_ Rajmael yelled. _"Elves live like slaves when they should be nobles because of your precious Chantry!"_

That insipid Chanter placed his arm on the angry Herald's arm as though to counsel him. _"And so Rajmael in the heathen temple recanted, 'Sing only the Word, Speak only the Chant'."_

It seemed at that moment everyone in Rajmael's party and War Council was in the Chantry for one reason or another. And at that very moment that thing inside Rajmael screamed to be let out. And this time, Rajmael listened to it. Rage. Rage. RAGE!

"_**AAAAGH!"**_ The Chanter screamed as Rajmael snapped his arm backwards, then proceeded to smash his face in in with his fists, while everyone, especially Mother Giselle stood in shock.

"_General Rajmael __**NEVER**__ denounced the Creators! He never surrendered! He stayed back to fight to give the clans time to evacuate!"_ Rajmael's rage echoed throughout Haven. _"I am __**proud**__ to bear his name!"_

The pissed off elf pounded the Chanter's face into the ground until his nose was flattened and his teeth was smashed out. Before he finished, he kicked the messed up Chanter in the torso and felt the shemlen's ribs break beneath his foot.

Rajmael turned his attention back to a shocked Mother Giselle and removed his robes from his upper body in front of everyone and revealed his horrific scars to all who were present. Everyone, even Cassandra, was shocked to see the damage that was done to his body. Those horrendous burns that marred his whole upper body and snaked up his neck. The depth and intensity of the burns should have killed him, but somehow he survived.

Josephine gasped in horror and painful tears actually started to well up in her eyes at the sight of the Herald's terrible wounds.

Cullen grimaced at the familiarity of such torment. He remembered what it was like to be tortured at someone else's leisure.

Leliana knew that the Chantry had never been kind to the elves, but she never knew that members of the Chantry actually went out of their way to torment someone like this. It was evil.

"_**THIS IS WHAT YOUR PRECIOUS CHANTRY HAS DONE!"**_ Rajmael screamed with the force of storm. _"Your Templars cut my parents' heads off right in front of me, while one of your precious Chantry Mother's ordered that I be __**BURNED ALIVE!**_ _I can still remember the smell of my own skin __cooking!__ Every abuse, every Elven son murdered by Chevaliers, every elven woman raped by humans, your vile, disgusting Chantry made possible!"_ Rajmael was so angry there were tears in his eyes. _"Your Chantry started this war! You abused the mages! You let the Templars become vicious dogs! Everything that has gone wrong, and everyone who is suffers now is because of you! Don't you __EVER__ try to tell me what good the Chantry does! I've seen it for what it truly is!"_

Rajmael finally breathed the rage out of his lungs. That thing inside him was satisfied. Rajmael finally realized that everyone was looking at him, and finally decided to cover up his scars. After he regained his composure he addressed his party members. _"I want everyone ready to leave for the Hinterlands in one hour. Get your shit together, or get the fuck out."_ Rajmael strode out to find a place to meditate and regain his composure.

The tears in Josephine's eyes now rolled down her cheeks as she saw the Herald walk out of the Chantry. From how sarcastic and joking he was, she never would have guessed that he was the victim of such torment. How could anyone be so cruel as to do that to another living person? If her both her parents died so suddenly it would crush her, but he had to watch as his parents were murdered? Josephine's heart was truly broken for him.

Cullen knew that kind of hateful anger. He also knew what it was like to suffer and be tortured at the hands of someone else, and then hate them for it. But Rajmael suffered at the hands of the Chantry, which is supposed to be a beacon of light and hope for everyone, but he knew that had always been just a smoke screen for their political agenda. And Rajmael knew that even more.

Leliana was so glad Aedan wasn't here right now. If he heard Rajmael's outburst he'd laugh his ass off right in her ear, and brag about how he was right about the Chantry for all these years. But right now, she couldn't help but feel that he was right all along. She served Dorothea in the hopes of serving the Chantry as she thought it was, but at the same time she completely ignored those who suffered under the Chantry's authority. Maker, she wished she were someone else right now.

Well, shit. Varric thought to himself. If Merrill were here she'd be crying her eyes out right now. He always knew that the elves and the Chantry had a shaky history, but he never knew that the Chantry was this belligerent to them. If there's one thing he learned, it's you never know how painful one person's story is until you push them in the wrong direction and blow up in your face. Kind of like what happened when the Qunari invaded Kirkwall.

Having spent most of his life on one battlefield or another, Blackwall had seen every manner of cruelty inflicted on an enemy. Some were justified, acting out of anger against a cruel enemy, while others where only for cruelty's sake. But that? There was no justification good enough, especially when it was done by Chantry hands. And Rajmael was only a child when they did that to him? How did he survive?

Elves tried to be elfy and that got them killed and the Herald hot burned, literally. And now his response was to act even elfy-er even after that got him badly hurt? That was really weird. Sera couldn't understand why elves had to act like elves. Why couldn't they try acting more like people? Still, real shame. She'd probably hate everybody if someone did that to her.

Well, that certainly explains everything. Vivienne wondered if Rajmael's distaste for the Chantry stemmed purely from a petty racial grudge or if his animosity was justified. Now she knew for certain. Any action he took concerning the Chantry would be clouded by his unfortunate childhood trauma, and it would certainly affect the Inquisition. What happened to him as a child was terrible, no doubt, but it shouldn't influence his present decisions. And if anything, it should have taught him the necessity of being in a Circle. Had his parents sent him there those foolish villagers and their small-minded Chantry Mother wouldn't have felt the need to burn him. Of course, she'd never say that to his face.

Damn. That elf's scary when he's pissed, Iron Bull thought to himself. He had seen how mages get treated under the Qun, and it wasn't pleasant. Some Qunari respected the sarebaas for fulfilling their role under the Qun despite the fact they must be treated as weapons, while others simply saw them as animals no different than the Tal-Vashoth. It helped that they were always warring with the Tevinter Magisters, so Ariqun always had justification on how they must treat their mages. Still, Bull was smart enough to know that not everyone deserves to be treated like pigshit just because of the way they were born. And Rajmael was an elf that he did not want to piss off, especially now.

Suffering was an all too familiar concept to the modern-day elves, both in the cities and the wilds. And almost all of that suffering they've endured was inflicted on them by human ignorance and prejudice, Solas had seen many such memories, and they were always painful. But it's different when it is your own pain, your own memories that reminds one of such lessons. Rajmael's loyalty to his clan and desire to leave the Inquisition no longer seemed as foolish or as selfish as he once thought. To have suffered such a grievous trauma and still have the willpower and desire to revive and master the ways of the Arcane Warrior, Solas believed Rajmael's personal strength and fortitude must be incredible.

Cassandra never felt guiltier in her whole life. That was why he had those scars? No wonder he wanted to go back to his clan, the world of humans and their Chantry has brought him nothing but pain and anguish. She knew that kind of raw hatred, it consumed her for half her life. It wasn't until she met Regalyan did she finally learn to let go and realized that not everything is what she perceived it to be. His pain reached out to her. Why did this hurt her more than it should? Cassandra could feel her heart breaking in her chest.

"_Mother Giselle, are you all right?"_ Cassandra finally asked the stunned woman.

Giselle helped the badly beaten Chanter to the healers and rested herself at a nearby table. She had never been spoken to thusly. _"I-I'm alright, Seeker Pentaghast. Just a little…shocked is all."_

"_I am truly sorry for what he said…."_

"_No. Do not be. I should be the one apologizing."_ Giselle admitted sorrowfully. _"It was foolish of me to expect him to gracefully accept such ignorance and disrespect on my part."_

"_That still doesn't excuse such behavior."_

"_Doesn't it?"_ Giselle asked rhetorically. _"The Chantry has committed many, many wrongs in the past, and the elves and the mages have always been the victims of our arrogance. Help him, Cassandra. Help him to know that the Chantry doesn't have to be the way he remembers it. This Inquisition can help it become how it was meant to be. You know better than anyone else what it's like to have what you love cruelly taken from you. Perhaps he will listen to you."_

Cassandra thought that was ludicrous. She had been a loyal servant of the Chantry almost her whole life, she was a Seeker for Andraste's sake. What could she possibly say to an elf who not only worshiped different gods, but one who had a grudge against the Chantry_? "I…I will try, Mother."_

Cassandra left while the others prepared for their excursion to the Hinterlands. She knew there was probably only one place Rajmael would be right now.

**~XoXoXo~**

As Cassandra expected, Rajmael was sitting in the valley where she first found him meditating, where they first sparred. Once again she found him in a meditative state, but this time no flowers bloomed around him. Instead he sat before a burning candle, the flames burned and receded as he breathed in and out. An obvious method of trying to calm down.

"_If you're looking for an apology for what I did to that Chanter, Cassandra, you can forget it."_ Rajmael called out. _"I did the same thing you would have done if someone insulted your precious Divine."_

"_I see you've calmed down now."_ Cassandra observed. Rajmael said nothing_. "What…what you said, about your scars. Was it all true?"_

"_No."_ Rajmael answered sarcastically_. "I just beat the shit out of a Chanter and yelled at an old lady because I wanted to see her cry. Yes, every word of it was true."_

"_But I thought you were born amongst the Dalish?"_

"_You think the Chantry or the Qunari are the only ones who accept elven converts?"_ Rajmael asked sadly. _"No. I was…born in a small village between Ostwick and Kirkwall. My parents did their best to keep to the old ways and secretly worshipped the Creators."_ A wave of sadness swirled in his golden eyes as he remembered his painful origins. "_When my magic manifested, my parents tried to make contact with the Dalish because they heard about how the mages in the Kirkwall Circle were treated, and they wanted to spare me from that. Our neighbor found out and ratted us out to the local Chantry."_

"_And then what?"_

"_The Templars barged into our home and dragged us out in front of the Chantry where the local Mother was waiting for us. When they discovered the totems my parents kept to honor our gods, she ordered the Templars to execute my parents for forsaking the Maker, and that I was to be burned at the stake because my magic was tainted by their heathen ways. I was only ten years old. And just as they were about to light the fire I made prayer to Mythal, and when they actually lit the pyre, Mythal answered."_

"_What happened?"_

"_My parents were able to make contact with the Lavellan Clan, and their hunters were able to subdue the Templars while Keeper Deshana saved me. But by the time they got to me, my body was already on fire and I was badly burned. I was in a coma for a month while the Keeper and Healer worked tirelessly to save me."_

"_Do they…do they still hurt?"_ Cassandra asked remorsefully. "_Your burns?"_

"_Sometimes I wake up feeling the pain of my body being on fire. But the worst part was…it was another elf that turned us in." _Rajmael's face was painted with a mix of sadness and confusion. "_Even to this day I can't fathom elves turning on and despising other elves, when we should be working together. After that I devoted my life to the study of the ancient ways and honoring the Creators. And I chose to walk the ways of Dirthamen, so that knowledge might purge ignorance."_

"_You…you didn't want revenge?"_

"_No. Vengeance would not have helped my people. It would only take from us, and give us nothing."_ Rajmael answered sadly but truthfully. _"Only by walking the path of Dirthamen will I be able to find the ancient knowledge of our ancestors and make my people great again."_

"_You're a better person than I am, Rajmael."_ Cassandra admitted bitterly_. "My parents died when I was very young, my older brother Antony and I were placed in the care of our uncle, but I was mostly raised by my brother. He was a dragon hunter, he represented everything a Pentaghast could be. I idolized him, we used to talk about how we would be dragon hunters together."_

"_What happened to him?"_ Rajmael asked apprehensively.

"_A cult of bloodmages wanted Antony to retrieve dragon's blood for them to use in their rituals. He refused, then they invaded my family's home and killed him right in front of me."_

"_That must have been horrible. I'm sorry for your loss."_

"_It was the end of my whole world." _Cassandra remembered. _"I begged the Chantry to let me become a Templar, but they sent me to the Seekers instead. I joined because I wanted to hunt mages, track down apostates and pretend that they were the ones who killed my brother. It took me many years to realize I was wrong. Killing for hatred's sake is not the Maker's work."_ A chocked sob escaped from Cassandra's lips_. "You are better than I because despite what happened to you, what has continued to happen to you, you still think of your people. It is…an admirable quality."_

"_Are you trying to flatter me now?"_ Rajmael smiled.

Cassandra choked back a laugh. Not too long ago he was doing the same thing to her. _"We aren't all like the…people who did that to you. The Chantry is more than that."_

"_The Chantry's spent seven hundred years denying the existence of Thane Shartan and telling a lie about one of my people's greatest heroes, Cassandra." _Rajmael stated angrily. "_You'll have to forgive me if I find that hard to believe."_

"_And I don't blame you. The Chantry has not represented the Maker's will as it should have."_ Cassandra admitted dourly. _"Perhaps we need the perspective of one of the people we abused to move forward. Perhaps the Maker truly did send you to show us the error of our ways."_

"_Cassandra, you know I don't believe in the Maker."_ Rajmael reminded. He exhaled slowly and fully regained himself. _"I won't do this for the Chantry, it isn't my problem. I'm doing this so people can continue to live without demons appearing on their doorsteps to eat them. If the Chantry decides to learn by the Inquisition's example, then that's their doing."_ Rajmael extended his hand out to Cassandra.

"_That is all I ask."_ Cassandra grabbed The Herald's and pulled him up from the ground.

Rajmael didn't realize how strong Cassandra actually was when she effortlessly pulled him off his feet and right in front of her. They were so close his scarred, bare chest was almost touching her armored breasts.

Cassandra merely intended to pull him back to his feet, she didn't mean to bring him so close to her. He was so close she could actually feel his warm breath on her face. Instinctively, and without thinking, she traced her bare hand along the scars of his chest, and felt their waxy texture beneath her fingertips. Rajmael gently grabbed her hand and squeezed it tenderly in his grip. Cassandra's earthy brown eyes met his liquid golden ones, and neither one of them were able, nor did they want to look away. Rajmael's hand reached caringly reached for her face, and Cassandra welcomed it when….

"'_Scuse me? Herald, ahem, Seeker?" _Varric called sheepishly.

Cassandra turned red as a tomato and grunted in anger, while Rajmael sighed uncomfortably_. "What is it, Varric!?" Cassandra growled._

"_We're, uh, we're ready to go when you are."_ Varric aswered as he eyed the two inquisitively. "_Was I interrupting something?"_

"_No!"_ Cassandra denied with purple ears.

"_Yes."_ Rajmael answered truthfully. Cassandra gave him an angry scowl to change his answer. _"Well, no. Not anymore."_

"_Well, you just let us now when you're ready, and well get going."_ Varric finished as he walked away. _"Wow, and here I thought shit like this only happened in one of my stories. I gotta remember this part."_

Rajmael scratched his head casually while Cassandra stood there stiff as a tree with an embarrassed look painted all over her face_. "Well, I…I'm glad we had this talk."_ Cassandra finally said trying to ignore their little moment_. "I will see you later. At the stables. Before we leave."_ Cassandra strutted off after Varric trying to forget what just happened.

Rajmael tilted his head and watched Cassandra's ass in motion as she walked away. No matter how much he looked at that heart-shaped region, he never got tired of it. But now was not the time for possibly ill-fated infatuations, nor was it time for him to feel sorry for himself and his unfortunate past. Now was the time for action. Rebel mages and rogue templars were tearing up the Hinterlands, and he was to lead the Inquisition's forces in stabilizing the area.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Okay, so this was more of a filler chapter, so sorry there wasn't much action. There's going to be a lot more blood and guts going on in the next chapter, I swear. Please review and give me your honest opinion.

And just in case it needs to be said: Dragon Age and all it's characters, concepts and lore are the property of the BioWare gaming company. I own/claim nothing.


	7. Holding the Hinterlands

**Holding the Hinterlands**

The Hinterlands was a godforsaken mess. Aside from the Rifts tearing the land apart with roaming demons and the Templars and Mages fighting each other in free-for-all melees, there was a cult of Chantry castoffs who were led by some moron of a woman named Anais, and they somehow believed that the Breach was a sign from the Maker to punish the world for the Chantry's lies, and that the demons would cleanse the world and raise the worthy up to the Golden City. What a load of crap.

After Rajmael put the stomp on the nearby demons and closed the Rift, they kneeled to him and believed the common consensus that he was indeed the Herald of Andraste. They may have been a cult of fanatical loons, but at least they were a loyal cult of fanatical loons. Rajmael sent them to Leliana to gather information in the region.

Rajmael went down to the Cross Roads to meet with this Corporal Vale to get an assessment of the situation here. He had been stationed with the refugees and was coordinating the Inquisitions efforts to aid them.

"_Hail, Herald of Andraste."_ The Corporal saluted.

"_Please. Just Rajmael."_ The Herald insisted_. "I have a real name, and I'd prefer to be called by it."_

"_As you wish, my lord." _Corporal Vale's address made Rajmael sigh in aggravation. _"The situation here in the Hinterlands is mess, ser. We've got refugees coming from all over the region, but with the Mages and Templars fighting it's made it impossible for us to get any supplies to aid them. Now there's a group of Bandits attacking us and raiding what supplies we do bring in."_

"_Do you have any information on these groups?"_

"_Yes, ser. We managed to kill a few and took these letters off of them."_ Corporal Vale produced to letters from his pack and handed them to Rajmael.

Rajmael's eyes glided up and down both parchments and was disturbed by what both had to say.

The Templar letter was written in a crisp and educated hand, and it stated.

**When the Tevinter Imperium said that mages should rule over man, the **_**Just**_** rebelled against the unrighteous decree. When the Circle said that mages should be allowed to consort with unholy spirits without care or consequence****. Now the Lord Seeker tells us to withdraw to Val Royeaux. My brothers, I tell you, we are the **_**Just,**_** and we must rebel against this unrighteous decree. Our battle must continue until no mage draws breath. Cast aside these cowardly shackles and join our righteous cause. **

**We must be ready to fight not only the mages, but those who sympathize with them. Have not the mages used blood magic to trick the minds of the unwary? Are not most people as we know them sheep, ready to be led by those who speak with authority? The people must be protected from the mages. It is our right and our duty. But those who supply them with lyrium? Those who offer them comfort and food? Those who shirk their duty to supply us for our worthy fight? They are sympathizers, who have lain with demons and can breed only abominations, and they must be slain as such. We will wage our war from our camp off the West Road, and we will not stop until this world is clean.**

**With the Maker's authority,**

**Knight-Captain Beaufort.**

Well, that guy sounded like an ass, and no doubt, was more fanatical and loony than Lord Seeker Lambert, as impossible as that might seem. The mage letter was written was also written by an educated hand, but it was far more erratic.

_Are you tired of letting the witless fools bind you with their fear? Come find us in Witchwood and we will show you the way. We will be free to work our craft, free to become the new gods we have always known we truly are. _

_Let the fools in Redcliffe play the good mage, as they always do. We know the truth. This world is ours to conquer, and every worthless peasant who threw a stone, every templar who glared in disappointment at our Harrowing, deserves to know it. They did not want us to dream because they knew we would dream of the truth, of power, of the weakness in the world that will let us break it and forge it anew. We are the chosen ones, we who have the power to enact change in this world and the will to see it through. We have conquered the Circles. We will conquer the templars. Come with us to the Witchwood. None who have the power of the Fade at their hands will be turned away._

_We await you with eager hands and powerful minds,_

_Enchanter Crowley_.

"_Just one great big pile of crap piled on top of another."_ Rajmael complained as he pinched the bridge of his nose. _"Do we know where these rebel groups are holding up?"_

"_Yes, ser. The Mages are have holed up in a cave right in the middle of Witchwood. And the Templars have fortified themselves just off the Western Road down from the Broken Bridge."_ Corporal Vale explained as he pointed to each location on a map_. "Their positions have completely halted any effort to move supplies or people safely. I'm afraid the refugees are stuck here, and we're running short on necessities."_

Rajmael stared at the map and memorized the location of both rebel factions while he thought up a plan. _"Alright, this is how it will go: My company and I will go on ahead and handle both the rogue templars and mages. I want Scout Harding and her men to follow behind us and confiscate whatever supplies both groups have, then give it to the refugees. And I want a contingency of men to rendezvous with me at Master Dennet's farm."_

"_Understood, ser."_ Corporal Vale saluted and turned on his heel to carry out his orders.

Rajmael turned to address his fellows. "_Alright, listen. Both of these groups have broken off from their respective factions to fight each other and establish their own little institution. They're deluded, fanatical and dangerous. The death and destruction they have caused has earned them their deaths. No prisoners, no quarter."_

"_Alright!"_ Iron Bull bellowed_. "Finally, some action!"_

"_These two groups have done nothing but bring pain and misery to these people. It's about time they've been stopped."_ Blackwall confirmed.

"_Agreed."_ Said Cassandra. _"Their crimes are far too grave."_

"_Is killing them the only possible path?"_ Solas questioned. _"Surely, there is some way we can approach these people and convince them to stand down?"_

"_Your devotion to your kind is touching, Solas, dear. But it's sadly misplaced." _Vivienne practically sneered. _"These people have committed a terrible crime, and now they are simply paying the price."_

"_I do not need to sympathize with anyone, mage or templar, to know compassion, Enchanter."_ Solas balked back. _"And I certainly don't need to relish in bloodshed."_

"_Nor I, but I certainly don't back down from doing what is necessary when the time calls for it."_ Vivienne said with that haughty attitude of hers. _"Perhaps you should learn that."_

Sweet Mythal, Vivienne's attitude pissed Rajmael off. But what pissed him off more was that she was right. Had to diffuse the situation_. "You know, in Varric's books, this is usually the part where you two start kissing. So I suggest you two either start with the oral affection, or shut the fuck up."_ A nauseated look twisted on both mages' faces and they turned away from each other with their mouths firmly shut.

They first made for the abandoned outpost of Fort Connor. The Fort was built by Arl Eamon after the Orlesian Occupation in honor of his father to protect the King's Road from bandits. It proved its mettle during the Fifth Blight when the soldiers posted there were able to successfully protect the refugees fleeing the hoard. Now the rogue templars have taken it over and have driven off the local farmers. And the templars were currently being besieged by the rebel mages, who drove off whatever farmers remained and were bombarding the fort's walls with fire and lightning. Perfect

With the villagers driven off there was no risk for collateral damage. And with the mages and templars trying to kill each other they were too busy to notice the Herald and his companions. "_Varric, Sera, I want you two to get behind the templars and cut them down from behind." _Rajmael intructed. _"Solas and Vivienne, you're going to give cover fire while the rest of us charge in."_

Varric and Sera stealthily snuck around the two fighting groups and made their way through the shattered walls of the fort and shot down the templars within. In the meantime Solas and Vivienne rained down a storm of fire and ice down on both rogue factions as the others charged in.

Cassandra extended her powerful will to all nearby enemies, templar and mage alike, and felt the lyrium in their veins evaporate under her very presence, rendering the mages defenseless and templars in withdrawal.

With the closest mages powerless and the templars staggering to their knees, they became easy pickings for The Iron Bull and Blackwall. The Grey Warden and the Seeker charged in with their shields and battered them down before finishing them off with their swords, while the ben-hassrath stampede forward with his giant axe and swung it in wide arcs, cutting down and splitting every enemy foolish enough to be in his range.

Blood sprayed through the air while screams echoed throughout the valley as Rajmael ran closer and close to the holed-up inside the fort, slashing and cutting down every enemy that was in his way. By the time he got there Varric and Sera managed to slay the templars that were on the ruined ramparts, but the remainder of them retreated back into the fort and barricaded the door.

Sera noticed a mage running away from the killing field and towards the forest. She knocked an arrow and aimed, but was stopped by Rajmael.

"_No. Don't."_ He ordered as he placed his hand on Sera's bow_. "Follow him, he will lead us to the rest of them."_

"_On it."_ Sera sped off after the fleeing maleficar.

Rajmael stood in front of the large, thick door that blocked his way inside and gave it few good knocks with a wide smile on his face. _"Hey, templars! Wanna come out and play?"_ He placed his pointed ear against the door and heard nothing. _"No? Well, I got a parting gift from the Inquisition the locals want you to have. Here, let me just show you!"_

Rajmael pushed his palms outward and an invisible projectile of force knocked the massive siege door into splinters, and the elf just casually strolled into the templar filled ruined while waving the dust out of his face. There were templars on all sides, all armed to the teeth with swords, axes and bows. The archers launched their arrows at the intruder, but the missiles just phased through him like he wasn't even there, like he was a ghost.

The Arcane Warrior held his sword with both hands and raised it into the air above him, the runes on it glowing white and the blade was engulfed in veilfire_. "From the Redcliffe with love, assholes!"_ He waved the sword above his head and swung it down in one clean stroke, and vortex of energy materialized in the air above the templars, trapping them in a cage of electric energy and striking them with lightning bolts.

The templars' armor conducted the electricity beautifully. The air quickly filled with the stench of the searing flesh and burnt hair as their eyes popped in their skulls and their teeth shattered out of their mouths. In a brief moment all the rogue templars inside were dead and all that was left was of them was their ruined carcasses that were now singed beyond all recognition and left a lovely fragrance filling the room.

Iron Bull entered the keep with his nose wrinkled but awe in his single eye. _"Damn, boss! I think you just beat my personal record of clearing the room full of assholes in the least amount of time. Good on you! Haven't seen someone make a mess out of men like this outside of canon fire."_

Vivienne covered her mouth and nose with a lace handkerchief to keep the smell from offending. _"Yes, dear. Very well done. Though, you could have been less…unsightly about it."_

Rajmael rolled his eyes away from the prissy mage_. "Sure, Vivienne. Next time I'll politely ask the hostile templars to gently impale themselves on my sword, I promise. Did anyone see where Sera went?"_

"She ran after that mage who fled the battle." Blackwall answered. _"I suspect she may have tracked the rest of those mages while she was at it."_

"_Good. Let's go after her and finish these mages off."_

**~XoXoXo~**

They went in the direction that Sera went while she was tracking that mage. They soon found the blonde elf hiding behind some trees and bushes. She urged the others to be quiet and pointed at what was in front of them. In the forest clearing before them was a whole congregation of mages, all of them with their staves glowing and spells conjuring in their hands. Behind them was the mouth of a very large cave where the rest of them had fortified themselves.

"_This could be a problem, boss."_ Iron Bull pointed out. _"We could take these mages in an open field, but if they retreat back into that cave then we're the ones who're easy targets."_

"_Indeed. I cannot disable all their magic on my own." _Cassandra voiced in.

Now was the time for mind and might. What to do? Hmmm. A wide grin spread across Rajmael's face when his eyes caught a hold of some red, thorny vines. Rashvine. Perfect. He remembered a tactic Nathras taught him when they wanted to get rid of an infestation of giant spiders that had taken up residence in some old ruins his clan was investigating.

"_Cassandra. Blackwall. Varric. I want you to carefully gather up as much of that rashvine as you possibly can, and quickly. As for the rest of us, we are going to drive them right into that cave."_

"_Um, didn't I just say that was a bad thing?"_ Bull questioned.

Vivienne didn't think it was such a good idea either. _"Are you quite sure you know what you're doing, dear?"_

Sera loosed three arrows into three different enemy eye sockets without even thinking. "_Howdja like that, mage-pissers!"_

"_You heard the lady!"_ Rajmael laughed as he threw a fire ball at the enemy.

Solas tapped into the Fade and used it to sap the magic from the rogue mages' hostile spells with a Dispel attack, giving Iron Bull the perfect opportunity to charge in, screaming and swinging his axe like a maniac. With their magic dispelled and a bloodthirsty qunari chopping their fellows in kebabs, the surviving mages quickly retreated into the cave, screaming like little girls.

With the mages now holed inside the cave, Cassandra approached Rajmael and carefully handed him several sacks full of fresh rashvine. _"I hope this was worth it, Herald."_ The Seeker scolded_. "What do you intend do with this? Give them blisters?"_

Rajmael carefully took the sacks with that wide grin on his face. _"Seeker, relax. If you smiled more often you'd probably have to beat all the guys off with a stick."_

"_I do that every day in the training yard, anyway."_ Cassandra scowled. _"What do you need that much rashvine for, anyhow?"_

"_Just some good, old-fashioned Dalish tactics, Cassandra."_ Rajmael winked at her and made his way to the cave. "_Just relax, and we'll use skill instead of swords."_

Rajmael pressed his back against the edge of the cave's entrance so no offensive spells could target him. _"All mages inside this cave, we are with the Inquisition…."_

"_We know who you are! Herald of Andraste!"_ An older, nasally voice shouted_. "We will no longer bow before your Chantry or pathetic Maker!"_

"_Look, I don't have time for a theological debate with murdering prick like you."_ Rajmael continued. _"So here's the deal: come out now and I promise we'll kill you quickly. If you don't, you're going to die in horrible pain. This is your only chance."_

"_How is dying a choice?"_

"_It isn't! It's an inevitability! But if you don't come out right now, I swear to everything I hold sacred, you will die in agonizing pain, crying for mercy!"_ Rajmael yelled back. _"And I'm giving you five seconds to decide."_

"_We won't yield to the likes of you, Herald!"_ Enchanter Crowley spat_. "We shall assume our rightful godhood that you and your precious Chantry tried to deny us! We shall be the rulers and progenitors of a new Age!"_

Well, he tried. Rajmael tossed the sacks of rashvine into the cave and threw several small fireballs at them. _"Don't say I didn't warn you!"_ Rajmael ran as fast as he could away from the cave a smoke began to billow from the burning rashvine. He and his companions stood well enough away from the cave and watched.

"_Okay. What're we waitin' for?"_ Sera asked impatiently.

"_We can't let those malificarum just stay there."_ Cassandra insisted. _"We must finish them off now!"_

"_Just watch." _Rajmael answered as he lit his pipe. _"They'll be dead soon enough. Be sure to kill anyone who comes out of there. It'll be the merciful thing to do."_

What was he talking about? Cassandra decided to just wait and see what happens.

"_Smoke!?"_ Crowley laughed. _"Is this all the might Herald of Andraste can do!? Aha-ha-ha!"_ Crowley's cackling soon turned into agitated coughing. Then into loud hacking. Finally the cave was filled with frantic screams mixed with desperate hacking as the smoke became thicker and thicker within the cave.

A disturbed look swept across Vivienne and Sera's face as those horrible screams filled their ears. Blackwall, Cassandra and Iron Bull were obviously disturbed but shocked. Having spent their whole lives on the battlefield they were used to all manners of terrible deaths. But Rajmael just stood there enjoying the cold, early spring day like he didn't have a care in the world while he smoked his pipe.

Soon enough mages began to run panicking out of the cave, screaming and hocking as if something were in their lungs that they had to get out. They began to roll on the ground holding the chests in pain and clawing at their own eyes. On Rajmael's signal Varric and Sera shot down all the mages that made it of the cave.

In a few minutes the smoke cleared and the horrible screaming stopped. Curiosity caught hold of Varric, Iron Bull and Sera, and they inspected the bodies of the mages who made it outside.

Varric quickly averted his eyes from the bodies. "_Andraste's firm, round tits."_

"_Damn!" _Bull swore at the sight.

"_Holy, friggin'…!"_ Sera doubled over and looked like she was going to puke.

The bodies of the mages were covered in deep red rashes and blistering boils that were weeping blood. Blood was also seeping out of the mouths and noses, even their eyes were blistered red and bleeding. Suddenly killing them definitely seemed like the merciful thing to do.

"_What in Andraste's name did you do?"_ Cassandra asked abhorred.

"_Would you ever touch rashvine?"_ Rajmael asked as he emptied the ashes out of his pipe_. "No, of course not, it leaves a rash so nasty and harmful that the most extreme cases need to be amputated. And if it is burned the smoke will make anything it comes in contact with blister and bleed, especially the lungs and throat, and your will suffer until you literally drown in your own blood. And as you can see, these people tried to claw out their own eyes, throats and guts to make the pain stop."_

"_That's foul way to kill someone." _Blackwall commented dismally.

"_Look what these mages did to the people who lived in this region."_ Rajmael defended. _"They were not going to get away with what they've done! I gave them the chance for mercy and they didn't take it. I can't help that they were blinded by delusions of grandeur to take the easy way out."_

"_We still have the rogue templars to contend with."_ Solas reminded solemnly. "_How do you intend to approach them? I doubt horticultural warfare will work as easily on them."_

"_Actually, I was thinking we could just kill them and be done with it."_ Rajmael answered seriously. _"Believe it or not, I don't actually like templars, and would prefer to kill them myself."_

**~XoXoXo~**

The templars fortified themselves in a small canyon by the waterfall leading directly south from the Broken Bridge on the Western Road. The templars fortifications were made to be as impenetrable as possible with spiked barricades and fences that favored their close quarter tactics and heavy armor. And if any uninvited guests came to drive them out they'd be cut down by the steel of a bunch of mad templars or be impaled on one of the long wooden spikes. This was going to be more fun than killing those mages.

The templars' position allowed them to see anyone coming their way, which was a good thing because the Herald and his entourage were hard to miss. The disgraced Chantry knights stood in ranked formation with the swords and shields ready, and their commander stood in front to greet the Herald.

"_Hold, there!" _Knight-Captain Beaufort commanded_. "So you are the blaspheming heathen who dares claim to be the favored of our Maker's Bride? I am unimpressed!"_

"_If it is at all possible, dear, I suggest we try to conscript these templars into the Inquisition."_ Vivienne proposed. "_I'm sure Commander Cullen needs as many of his former brethren as possible."_

"_I would advise against it."_ Solas interjected. _"These templars broke their oaths simply to satisfy their fanatical need to kill."_

"_Aye, and there's nothing worse than an oathbreaker."_ Blackwall agreed hatefully_. "Ya can't trust any of 'em."_

"_Cassandra, you believe in death before disgrace, right?"_ Rajmael asked.

"_Yes. Whole-heartedly."_ Cassandra answered truthfully.

"_Well, I'd say these templars have disgraced themselves plenty."_ Rajmael reminded everyone. _"Now they must pay for their transgressions in the only manner that befits their crimes." _Rajmael stepped forward to address the rogue templars. He could feel the ones in the back ranks trying to suppress the magic around him, but his connection to the Fade was too strong for their weak wills. Rajmael remembered his little promise to Vivienne. _"Would you templars be so kind as to get in line and throw yourselves on my sword in a neat and orderly fashion? Enchanter Vivienne would greatly appreciate it!"_

Vivienne scoffed and rolled her eyes in annoyance while Bull, Varric and Sera laughed about it.

"_You shall not usurp our duty, vile mage!"_ Beaufort ranted. _"Our duty was handed down to us by Andraste herself! Your kind are a blemish in the eyes of—ACKGH!" _A ball of fire struck the mouthy knight right on his helmet before he could finish his rhetoric.

"_You templars talk too much_." Rajmael stated with his smoking from the spell he cast.

"_**KILL HIM!"**_ The Knight-Commander screamed with his hair on fire.

The templars didn't even bother to stay in formation and just wildly charged the heathen elf that dared to strike at them. Their swords and maces flashed in the sunlight as they readied to murder the Herald before them. But their blades and cudgels passed through him as though he were made of air, while Rajmael's veilfire blade phased though their armor and sliced through the meat, flesh and bone that was protected beneath. Their weapons fell from their hand as blood spurted from beneath their visors and the five attacking templars dropped dead before the incorporeal mage.

More templars poured from the barricaded canyon, cursing wildly and screaming the Maker's wrath. Rajmael assumed his sword stance. _"Enasalin!"_ he cried as he charged forward with unnatural speed, becoming one with the Veil as he dashed past and through his enemies like a ghost, cutting, slicing and severing each templar he phased through, and stopped right in the middle of their encampment. The templars behind him all fell down dead in an instant.

Cassandra couldn't believe how quickly this was happening. How could a mage move so quickly? Even as this all unfolded before her eyes, she still couldn't believe that a mage would intentionally engage so many templars in combat and cut them down with such ease. Cassandra and the others quickly followed after the Herald, and did their best not to trip on all the dead bodies he left behind.

Rajmael followed after the so-called Knight Commander to the back of the encampment and found himself surrounded by five differently armed templars. Two were armed with shields and swords, one was armed with a giant hammer, another, a rogue, was armed with dual-daggers, and the last one was stringing a bow. What fun.

Rajmael threw down a lightning bolt attack that struck the two shield-bearers simultaneously, and cooked them like a Wintersend turkey, they screamed horribly as they died; templar armor always made perfect conductors for electric attacks. The archer launched an ice-enchanted arrow at the elf, but Rajmael deflected the projectile at the knife-wielder and got her right between the eyes and made her head shatter. Before the archer had time to knock another arrow, Rajmael threw a fireball right at his head and engulfed it in flames. The archer screamed and ran around panicking and accidently fell of the ledge and was impaled on the spiked palisade below.

The big brute of a templar bull-rushed Rajmael with surprising speed. He struck Rajmael with the pommel of his weapon and sent the Herald back a few feet. The brute reared back his hammer for a powerful strike to smash the elf's head, but Rajmael struck the shaft of the warhammer with a counter-attack and cut the weapons head right off. The elven mage doved low and in one wide arc, he cut his opponents legs off right above the knees. The templar fell with a thud, screaming in ungodly pain and fright as the bloody stumps where legs used to be kicked wildly. Rajmael was quickly annoyed by the man's screaming, so he stomped on his throat to silence him.

Knight-Commander Beaufort threw off his helmet, revealing his now burnt-patched hair and singed face, and charged with his sword drawn. This man obviously never met a mage who could put up a real fight. Rajmael blocked the man's blade and shattered it to pieces with his sylvanwood sword, then sent the man flying with a mind blast. Beaufort slammed against the canyon wall with a disturbingly loud crunch that smashed his armor and broke his body.

Cassandra and the others caught up to Rajmael as he grabbed one of the spiked poles and made his way to the crippled Knight. Beaufort vainly tried to crawl away from the Herald, but was kicked on to his back and pressed down by Rajmael's barefoot. The elf raised the pike high above his head and aimed it precisely at the defeated knight under him. _"You impressed yet?"_

Beaufort opened his mouth to curse the heathen elf, but before a word could escape his lips the pike was driven through his lips, busted out all his teeth, and was driven down his mouth and out the back of his head, pinning his burned skull to the ground. The blood from his head soaked the earth beneath him.

Cassandra admitted to herself before that Rajmael's skill and magic was impressive, that he stood down that Pride Demon was proof of that, but there have been many mages that have been used to kill such demons. She had never before seen a mage engage so many templars and make such carnage out of them. Perhaps putting her faith in him wasn't the false course of action after all.

Damn. Varric hadn't seen so many dead templars in one place since Hawke singlehandedly took on the entire Order back in Kirkwall. Whatever magic or skill this Herald possessed was definitely worth writing about. It made him actually feel sorry about the poor bastards who tried to go up against him. Varric needed to tell this to the boys back at the tavern in Haven.

Blackwall had never seen anything like this in his whole life. Granted, he never spent much time with mages, but mages were supposed to call down fire or talk with spirits, not chop up men like they were minced meat. What style of swordsmanship did the Herald use? He had never seen such technique before, purpose and skill combined with accurate power. Was it an elven style? Maker's balls, maybe he should ask him for a…lesson or two. Or maybe not, that'd be a little embarrassing.

Mages engaging templars in direct combat was always a foolhardy notion. Mages who were arrogant or ignorant enough to commit to such folly were always quickly put down. But not this one. Vivienne had studied the ways of the Knight-Enchanter, as befitted a mage of her standing, but even she would never engage a whole company of armed templars alone. Rajmael, however, not only engaged them, he eviscerated them, literally. Elven magic was indeed a powerful thing. Shame they choose to live like vagabonds.

Rajmael cleaned the blood of his blade and breathed the fire out his lungs as turned to his party members. All of them had a look of surprise on their face._ "What? Why're you looking at me like that? Do I got something on my face?"_ They all just continued to stare like he was crazy or something. "_Well, wipe those silly looks off your face, you guys look ridiculous. We still got to rendezvous with our men and meet with Master Dennet."_

**~XoXoXo~**

The company of the Herald met with Corporal Vale and the other Inquisition camped just outside Master Dennet's farmstead. Dennet was the former Master of the Stables to Arl Eamon of Redcliffe. He retired shortly after the Blight to manage his own farm with his family after the Blight. The various farmsteads here have since pledged to him for protection as well as leadership. According to his reputation, he breeds finer horses than any that can be found in Val Royeaux, but the stable-masters and Chevaliers would never admit that a lowly dog-lord produces finer horses than they can. The Inquisition on the other hand, was not as picky. If they could get horses from Master Dennet they could supply mounts and beasts of burden for the whole cause.

Rajmael knocked on Dennet's house door, hopefully this wouldn't be too tedious. _"Yes, yes. Come on in."_ Dennet invited. Rajmael entered and observed the old horse master. He was a bald man with a thick white beard on a granite chin, and had green eyes. His face and hands were deeply tanned from years of working in the sun, and right now he had a quirked eyebrow on his face. _"So, you're with the Inquisition, eh? Funny, didn't think you'd be a halla-rider."_

"_Do you have a problem with people who ride halla?" _Rajmael asked calmly.

"_Oh, no offense meant." _Dennet clarified. _"Those halla are damned majestic beasts. I'd give my right arm to ride one of those."_

"_We came here to seek you aid, Master Dennet."_ Cassandra stated_. "The Inquisition is in dire need of mounts."_

"_Yes, I'm sure you are. I doubt walking back and forth between countries is easy. But I'm afraid I can't help you at the moment."_ Dennet answered.

"_And why not?"_ Cassandra continued.

"_I can't just send the best horses in all of Ferelden across the Frostbacks with all these bandits roving around."_ Dennet explained_. "And I need to look after the farmers here first before I can even think about lending aid to anyone else."_

"_What sort of problems have you been having?"_ Rajmael inquired.

Dennet scratched his head apprehensively. _"The wolves here have become a real problem. Wolves are fierce animals by nature, but these ones are vicious. They attack like they want to kill, like when the darkspawn or the undead attacked this region. And the bandits are no better and their raids have become more frequent, and more sophisticated. If you can handle the wolves and guarantee that the farmers will be safe from the bandits I'll be glad to give you the horses you need."_

The wheels in Rajmael's head began to turn as a smile spread across his face. _"Tell you what, how about we sweeten the deal. We'll make sure that your farmers are kept safe from both the bandits and the wolves, and if you agree to come to Haven and act as Stable Master for the Inquisition, I'll let you ride my halla, Neirin."_

That caught Dennet's attention. _"Are you serious?"_

"_I swear to Ghilan'nain, The Mother of all Halla."_ Rajmael promised.

"_That's certainly a tempting offer and you cause does seem a worthy one."_ Dennet admitted_. "Alright, you hold your end of the bargain, and I'll commit my horses and myself to your cause."_

"_Perfect." _The Herald and the Horse Master shook on it.

**~Two Hours Later~**

It turns out the wolves were possessed by some kind of Hunger Demon that turned the whole pack into hunger-crazed beasts. They quickly dispatched the otherworldly creature back to the Fade and the wolves returned to normal. One of the beasts even licked Solas' hand before trotting back off into the woods. Now they were trying to deal with the bandits that have been plaguing both the refugees and farmers alike.

Iron Bull finished off the last bandit in this encampment by cleaving his sternum open while Sera looted the dead. There were about ten bandits here, a scouting party it looked like, right around the King's Highway.

"_This is odd."_ Blackwall stated as he inspected one of the dead bandits. _"These were no ordinary bandits. These men had training and knew how to use their weapons."_

"_Yeah, that's for damn sure."_ Varric agreed. _"And check out their weapons. These swords are dwarven steel, way too high quality for common garden variety bandits to be using. "_

"_If I was to hazard a guess, my dear, I'd say these are mercenaries."_ Vivienne pointed out.

"_Mercenaries are nothing more than hired thugs."_ Cassandra said. _"We need to find out who's been sending them and why."_

"_Got somthin' here!" _Sera called out and handed Rajmael a piece of paper she found in one of the bandits' pockets.

It was a letter detailing orders for the bandits to take care of any Inquisition forces they come across, and to make sure the refugees and farmers continued to be hindered. Why? Why would anyone pay mercenaries to play the role of bandits? The letter also had details about where their main encampment was. The Grand Forest Villa. That is where they might find their answers.

**~The Grand Forest Villa~**

The Grand Forest Villa was constructed back in the late Storm Age by an ancestor of the current Arl of Redcliffe. During and After the Orlesian Occupation the Villa fell into disrepair and had been the resting place of vagabonds and bandits alike. It was built so far out of the way from Redcliffe that no one bothered to reclaim it, but it seems these mercenaries did.

These mercenaries were definitely a cut above normal cut throats, whoever hired these men chose well. But they weren't expecting a frontal assault by elite soldiers, mages and rogues. And the Villa was originally made to be a luxurious manor, not a fortress. The mercenaries inside were quickly dispatched until only their commander was left.

The mercenary captain was a tall, powerfully built man wielding a large axe. He cursed and spat at the intruders before making an attempt at the Herald. Rajmael instantaneously reached into the Fade and froze his enemy in place with a powerful ice spell. The mercenary just stood there frozen like a block of ice with his axe held above his head.

Rajmael approached the merc-turned-icicle_. "Who are you? Actually, I don't care who you are, I want to know who hired you, why, and where can I find them? And tell me quickly, I kinda wanna be somewhere else."_

"_Fuck you!"_ The captain spat furiously.

"_No, see, that's where you're wrong."_ Rajmael corrected demeaningly_. "You see, I'm not the one who's fucked right now. You on the other hand are frozen solid, and I can shatter your legs glass and leave you out here to die. And if you're lucky, a bear will find you and finish you off, but that's not likely. The most likely scenario is you'll stay here and literally rot, contract gangrene and then the smell will attract the rats and flies that'll slowly eat your rotting body alive. So why don't you tell me what I want to know and we can make this easier on us both?"_

That hateful scowl never left the man's face, but Rajmael could see the thought going around behind his eyes. "_If I tell you, elf, will you kill me quickly?"_

"_You won't even know you're dead until you reach the after-life."_ Rajmael promised.

"_I don't know who hired us."_ The mercenary grunted. _"Some private party hired us by raven. Said they wanted us to attack the peasants and Inquisition forces."_

"_Why?"_

"_Don't know. All I know is that they didn't want anyone's attention over at Vallamar. It's an ancient dwarven outpost just north of here." _The captain pointed his eyes towards the nearby desk. _"They sent me a location and key to the thaig to collect our payment when the job was done."_

"_You had to know attacking the refugees and the Inquisition would only get you killed."_ Cassandra condemned.

"_Job's a job, woman. We all gotta eat somehow."_ The merc grunted as breath became labored with anxiety_. "Now finish me."_

Rajmael placed one hand under the mercenary's chin and the other on the back of his head. In one clean motion Rajmael snapped the man's neck like it was dry twig. The sound of his vertebrae cracking reverberated through the villa and he died instantly.

He grabbed the map and key the recently deceased mercenary revealed to him. Strange. The map was of some kind of foreign origins and dotted with strange runes that were completely alien to Rajmael. Nonetheless, it told them of the sight they needed to investigate. Some kind of cave near Lake Luthias.

**~XoXoXo~**

The path to the cave was well hidden. A craggy trail pressed against the side of a cliff just behind Lake Luthias that led up behind a waterfall. The precisions with which this path was hidden was surprising, but not as surprising as what they found behind the waterfall. Three angry, well-armed dwarves guarding a stone door.

"_Chantry bastards!"_ One of them cursed.

"_Kill 'em! Boss want them dead!"_ spat another.

The third one smashed a glass vial to the ground and all three disappeared in a puff of smoke. They reappeared right behind the intruders with their knives ready to kill. Rajmael phase shifted so that the first one leapt through him like a rock through wind, and cut his head off in one deft swing. The second one was dead the instant he made the mistake of trying to take Cassandra from behind; her sword was already drawn and pointed behind her, the carta thug impaled himself on her blade. The last one was shot by one of Bianca's bolts through the head and nailed to the rocky cliffside wall.

"_Looks like carta."_ Varric pointed out_. "But not any outfit I'm familiar with."_

"_With the rebel mages and templars battling in the open like this, the carta must be making a fortune supplying lyrium to both sides."_ Cassandra surmised. "_They must be using Vallamar to smuggle lyrium discretely."_

Rajmael inspected the stone door these men were guarding. If what he knew about dwarves was correct, then this door and the key to unlocking it, would lead them inside the very earth itself. He used the key and followed the path the door opened inside the very cliff.

What they found inside the tunnels was amazing. There was a thaig, an underground dwarven outpost, right in the middle of the Hinterlands and built into the very walls of a deep chasm. The subterranean roof was broken open to the blue sky above them while building complexes were constructed into the walls and gazing down on them, and holding up the weight of the earth surrounding them were the glorious ruined statues of Paragons long dead but unforgotten by the Stone. It was magnificent!

Rajmael's awe was caught short when he heard a loud horn blowing and echoed throughout the chasm. An alarm that warned the carta of the intruders. In a few seconds the bridge that crossed the chasm and over to where Rajmael and the others stood was swarming with these dwarven criminals, all armed to the teeth and hungry for blood.

Dwarves had a natural resistance to magic, but Rajmael didn't care. He quickly conjured magical runes on to the ground and the unfortunate dwarves that stepped on them instantly froze in an explosion of ice and shattered like glass. With their initial charge halted, Iron Bull and Blackwall charged forward and made use of the narrow passage of the bridge, and their own size and skill, to cut down the larger number of dwarves in their path, cutting them down and throwing them off the bridge with prolonged screams that ended in resounding splats that echoed throughout the cavern.

Realizing that they couldn't take the intruders head-on, the carta members retreated back into the stone buildings to fortify themselves. Varric and Sera whittled their numbers down with arrows as their enemy fell back as the rest of their companions followed after the Cart. The dwarves locked the stone slab-like door behind them, but Bull just spat in his hands, rubbed them together and slammed his shoulder up against it, and the door fell down and crushed the thugs standing behind it.

A very large dwarf shoved his way through the other carta members with an axe twice as tall as he was. The dwarf had short, messy beard and was as wide as he was tall, solid slab of meat and muscle with hard hatchet-face that was twisted dirty look_. "Enough of this!"_ The dwarf growled. _"You Inquisition types have caused enough trouble already!"_

"_And just what the fuck do you think you're doing here, runt?_" Rajmael asked abrasively.

"_You wanna know?"_ The dwarf rebutted sarcastically. _"You won't live long enough to do anything about it. We hired those mercenaries to attack the farmers and refugees to keep the local authorities' eyes of our little enterprise with the mages and templars."_

That signature scowl appeared on Cassandra's face and Rajmael knew then that these dwarves should be afraid_. "You seek to profit from this crisis and have no care for it hurts!?"_

"_Ha! The Carta's always made a fortune off you Chantry chumps whenever you wanted to hurt people!" _The dwarf laughed. _"We're just simply working without the middleman now."_ The thug assumed a battle stance and his men readied to fight. _"And you've been interfering with us long enough!"_

A sense of dread like none Rajmael had felt before swelled inside him as a great shadow suddenly loomed over the carta gangsters. A vile creature of rot and evil wearing viciously crude armor brought a gargantuan hammer down on the muscle-bound gangster and smashed his head down into his gut. Then in one fell swoop it crushed the remaining dwarves. This is why swooping is bad. Especially when it's being done by a Hurlock Alpha. And it wasn't alone.

"_HOLY SHIT!"_ Rajmael screamed. How did Blackwall not sense them? "_Blackwall! How many are there!?_" he asked frantically as he threw down a lightning bolt at the darkspawn. It killed two of the lesser ones, but did nothing to the Alpha.

"_Hard to say. Just kill the damned things!"_ Blackwall screamed as he charged the Alpha with his shield and sword.

"_Ew. Eww. EWWW!"_ Sera cried as she loosed several arrows into a hurlock crossbowman.

Cassandra and Iron Bull engaged the other hurlocks. Cassandra called down a holy smite to purge attack the taint that swam in these vile creatures, while Iron Bull expertly swung his axe at them whilst keeping a safe distance. Hurlocks were vicious but they weren't trained. Their grotesque black blood soon stained the warriors' weapons and the ground as Cassandra beheaded her target and the Bull split his in half.

As the others took on the lesser darkspawn, the Grey Warden and the Hurlock Alpha fought as viciously as sworn enemies should. Blackwall blocked a powerful overhead strike from the Alpha's hammer with his shield, the force of the blow almost brought the Warden to his knees. Blackwall quickly thrusted his sword through the crude armor, into the creature's ribs and out the back of its body, but that wasn't enough, apparently. The Alpha grabbed the base of the Warden's weapon and snapped it off while the blade was still inside its body, jammed a powerful kick into the human's chest, and swung around with that powerful hammer right on the Warden.

Blackwall barely had enough time to raise his shield and block the incredible attack. But the sheer force of the blow sent him flying into a nearby wall and smashed the sarcophagi resting on it. Blackwall was dazed and his companions were too busy to aid him. The darkspawn pulled the blade out of its back and readied for another assault. Out of the corner of Blackwall's eye he saw a handle of some kind and reached for it. Maker, please let it be a weapon.

The Hurlock's hammer fell down, Blackwall rolled out of the way and grabbed the handle, not caring what it was and swung at the Alpha's knee. An earsplitting thunderclap resounded from the attack as the creature's knee gave way and the creature was brought down screaming with electricity surging through its body. Turns out the weapon that the handle belonged to was a mace and, apparently, it had a lightning rune. Blackwall cocked back his arm, the mace surged with the power of a thunderstorm, and struck at the Alpha's helmed head with one deft strike. His fist clutched the handle of the mace so hard his knuckles were white and the muscles of his arms felt like they would burst from the amount force he swung it with. Thunder clapped inside the thaig as the mace hit the darkspawn's crude helmet, the instant it made contact the creature's head exploded in a ball of electricity. Bits of brain matter, chunks of skull and splashes of black ichor splattered all over the room and Blackwall's armor.

Blackwall went to his knees, breathing heavy with a wild look on his face and bewilderment in his. He did it. He killed it. He killed a Hurlock Alpha. He rose back to his feet and tried to hide the sense of pride he felt from this accomplishment.

The others had finished of the rest of the darkspawn and they were looking at the blood covered Warden before him.

"_Great job, Blackwall!"_ Iron Bull bellowed.

"_Indeed, truly an accomplishment of a Grey Warden."_ Cassandra commented.

"_Yeah! Gotta a bit of brains on your beard, though."_ Sera chuckled.

"_It…It was nothing. That's what we Grey Wardens do, right." _Blackwall said humbly.

"_Might I see that weapon, Blackwall?"_ Rajmael asked. Blackwall gladly handed Rajmael the newly acquired mace. It was unlike any other mace that he had ever seen or heard of. The head was in the shape of two eagles embracing with their wings spreading wide and upwards to act as the piercers of the weapon. Beset at the base of the head was a magnificent, masterly crafted lightning rune that was centuries old, it made the head crackle and surge with power as it moved.

On the handle there was an inscription. _"For thy heart, which has wronged me."_ Curious. Rajmael inspected the ruined sarcophagus from which the weapon had been resting and noticed the runes on the stone coffin. _"Varric can you read these runes?"_

Varric looked at the inscription with a curious eye. _"Ehh, it's some form ancient dwarven, before the fall of the Great Thaigs during the First Blight. Something, something. Thunderstrike…something, something, the witch…was taken as a trophy after she was slain in battle by the Alamarri warlord known as Dwarfson." _A look of realization bloomed on Varric's face. _"Holy shit. I think you just found the personal weapon of the Avvar war leader Morrighan'nan!"_

That name seemed to ring a bell in Rajmael's head_. "The lover and enemy of Luthias the Dwarfson? Who brought the ways of the Berserkers to the Alamarri tribesman?"_

Varric knew every great story that ended in tragedy. _"Yeah! This thaig must've been one of the places that sent warriors to aid Luthias after the Battle of Red Falls. One of the warrior's must've taken Morrighan'nan's weapon as a trophy of war and was buried with it."_

"_Looks like you've got yerself a pretty bit'o history there, Blackwall."_ Sera laughed.

"_Quite so."_ Rajmael agreed as he handed the historic weapon back to Blackwall. _"You're the first to use this weapon in about thirteen hundred years, Blackwall. It's only fitting that you wield it from here on out."_

Blackwall graciously accepted the weapon and took a moment to admire it. _"I like it. Maces are better weapons than most people give credit for. And I'd like to see what else it can do against the sorry bastards who're dumb enough to attack us."_

**~XoXoXo~**

With the carta dealt with, they all reemerged back to the surface and back to the Crossroads where Corporal Vale was waiting for them. Rajmael handed him a map with marked locations dotted on it. "Here, take this map and send a raven to the War Council requesting watchtowers to be built at these points. These other locations are areas where our men can confiscate the weapons, supplies and necessities that the rebels and mercenaries were using. Gather them, then divide them up equally amongst the refugees. They'll be safer here now." Rajmael promised.

"_Oh, thank you…ser"_ Corporal Vale remembered that Rajmael didn't like his title. _"You've given these people a real chance here. None of us will forget it."_ The corporal saluted respectfully and ran over to his men to gather the supplies for the people.

A short time later Rajmael looked on with a humble sense of accomplishment as he saw the Inquisition's men handing out blankets, food and madicine to the people of this region. It was gratifying to know that his efforts were having immediate effect.

By stabilizing the region Rajmael now had the respect and reputation to meet with either the Rebel Mages or the Rogue Templars on equal ground and with founded authority. Both factions could be powerful allies, and either one could lead to their success in closing the Breach. The only problem is both sides have their own agenda, and either side could be filled with dire enemies. But who to seek out first?


	8. Once Upon A Future

**Once Upon A Future**

They arrived to the gates of Recliffe only to find a Rift and demons blocking their path, but something was very different. It was high noon, yet early shadows and the morning dew still lingered. The very air around them felt out of place.

Demons of rage, hunger and despair loitered in front of the gate and attacked any Inquisition soldier, yet they made no attempts to attack the gate itself. Why?

Demons were powerful, but they were not intelligent. They relied on the powers they brought with them from the Fade, but had no true skill. And, unfortunately for the demons, Rajmael and his companions had intelligence, skill and a means of closing the Rift. Arrows flew, steel rang and magic was conjured. The demons of Hunger were cut down, Despair was shot down and Rage was frozen over. Within minutes the demons were vanquished and the Rift was sealed. When it was, the time within the Rift caught up to the rest of reality.

Cassandra couldn't believe what they just witnessed. "What kind of Rift was that? It seemed to alter the very time around it."

"_It would seem that Breach's impact on our reality is more profound than we expected."_ Solas answered.

An Inquisition scout approached Rajmael. _"My lord, we've sent word that the Inquisition was coming, but you should know that no one was expecting us."_

"_How can that be? It was Grand Enchanter Fiona who invited us."_

"_If she did, it doesn't seem like she told anyone. We haven't seen her, either. But we've arranged for the tavern to be the place for the negotiations."_

An elf, a mage judging from his robes, came running up to them from the village below. _"Agents of the Inquisition, I apologize. Magister Alexius is in charge now, but he hasn't arrived yet. He's expected shortly. But please feel free to speak with Grand Enchanter at the tavern in the meantime."_

Wait a minute. Who was Magister Alexius? What was going on? Something told Rajmael he needed to get down to the village now.

**~XoXoXo~**

Redcliffe was certainly a beautiful place. After the Blight many people in the Hinterlands migrated here because of how well protected it was, and thanks to the productivity of the people this place soon became the economic rival of Denerim. Castle Redcliffe which had been stewarded by the Guirrien family for centuries, stood on a high cliff overshadowing the village. It has been said that in order to conquer Ferelden one must first conquer Redcliffe, its key position and mighty fortifications made it nearly impossible for any host to take it.

The village resided at the base of the cliff on shores of Lake Calenhad. It possessed a beauty all its own that seemed serene. From what Rajmael remembered, their main income came from an abundance of fishing and massive economic trade. And it was said that there was more iron to be found Redcliffe's people than in its hills. But for some reason the air was thick with despair and hushed anger.

"_Why are the mages still here? Don't they know they'll bring the templars and their war to the village?"_ A young woman asked.

"_I heard they threw Arl Teagan out of the castle!" Another said. "Why hasn't the crown come and thrown them out?"_

"_I heard it's because the new leader of the mages is a magister, and the crown doesn't want to wage war with Imperium."_

Wait. What did they say? The mages are actually being led by a magister? That can't be right. Grand Enchanter Fiona would never allow such a thing. Not after all she did to fight for her cause. Rajmael needed to get to the bottom of this.

As they walked to the tavern, called The Warden's Stand, Rajmael overheard Solas humming some kind of tune absently.

"_Hmm-hmm. Hmmm. Men of Redcliffe on to glory… this shall ever be your story…humm…hmmm…Fereldans never yield."_ Solas hummed between verses.

"_Solas, dear, whatever is that…quaint song you're humming."_ Vivienne asked annoyed.

"_I took a moment to inspect that destroyed windmill back on the hill. And the spirits of the Fade who witnessed Aedan Cousland's defense of Redcliffe were singing the song he used to increase their morale."_ Solas explained_. "Now I can't get the tune out of my head."_

"_Well, you don't need to get it stuck in our heads, dear."_ Vivienne scolded.

"_Man, would you look at the place."_ Bull marveled with a militaristic view. _"Village near the lake, pressed up against a cliff with a big castle overlooking. One way in, one way out. This place is perfect for planning sieges and repelling assaults."_

"_Indeed."_ Cassandra confirmed_. "King Cailan once said that the fate of Redcliffe is the fate of all Ferelden. Only thrice in the whole history of this castle was it ever taken."_

As they continued their way to the tavern to meet Fiona, Rajmael was stopped by the sight of a powerful statue right in the middle of the village. It was carved in the image of a human warrior with his one hand resting on an axe and the other held the flag of Ferelden billowing in the wind. The warrior had carving on its grim face to emulate tattoos, and before him was a shield baring the Grey Warden insignia. At the base of the statue was the carvings of darkspawn, undead and demons that had been vanquished. This memorial was simple and intimidating, just the way Fereldan's like them.

There was an inscription before the statue that read: _The people of Redcliffe erect this memorial in honor of Aedan Cousland of Highever, who saved our village in our darkest hour of need. May this statue forever remind our people what heroism and patriotism truly is._

"_This is the Hero of Ferelden?"_ Rajmael looked on the statue and realized that Leliana's description of the man was quite accurate.

_"You think that's a life-sized version of him?"_ Iron Bull asked almost genuinely. _"The new Arishok said that this guy was the most fearsome human he'd ever seen."_

"_I would have expected a memorial of the Hero of Ferelden to be more awe-inspiring and less…rustic."_ Vivienne commented disappointedly. _"But then, the Fereldan's aren't known for their artistic side."_

"_Scary, yeah?"_ said Sera. _"Even I wouldn't want to play pranks on that guy. I once heard there were these slavers from Tevinter who were kidnapping elves. This guy found them and skinned 'em all alive."_

A sudden stroke of genius popped in Rajmael's head, thanks to Sera's comment. That was probably the only time that'll ever happen. Now he had something to bring to the mages.

"_Incredible isn't it?"_ Said a shy quiet voice of a young man, barely out of adolescence with deep Fereldan features. Short brown hair, earthy eyes and pale skin. He wore the robes of a mage apprentice, was he one of the mages who took up residence here?

"_My father had this statue commissioned after the Blight. This is my first time seeing it."_ The mage continued.

"_Your father? You're Connor Guirren?" _Cassandra gasped.

A look of deep sadness washed over Connor's face. _"I used to be. Now I'm just another rebel mage."_

"_What is going on here, Connor?"_ Rajmael asked.

"_When the Conclave was destroyed my Uncle Teagan petitioned King Alistair to grant me and the rest of the mages refuge here. Grand Enchanter Fiona became desperate, the templars kept attacking us and she was losing more and more people to the maleficarum in witchwood." _A look of anger twisted on Connor's face. _"Then that Magister appeared. Now he's thrown my uncle out of his own keep, and the Tevinter's strut around like they own the place and order the mages like we're their servants."_

"_Argh! Vints!"_ Bull cursed. _"Even on the ass end of the world, you can still find the assholes messing things up."_

"_Why would the Imperium send a Magister here?"_ Cassandra questioned_. "What could they gain from the mages of the south?"_

"_Oh, how typical of those vile mages from the Imperium."_ Vivienne said imperiously_. "And how typical of Fiona to make one bad decision after another."_

Connor shot an angry look at Vivienne. _"At least she stayed to help us. Fiona has been trying to keep us alive while you were too busy sipping fruity drinks in your fancy manor to be bothered with the likes of other mages."_ Vivienne shot her own nasty look at the younger mage, no one so young had scolded her before. _"Please, you have to help us." Connor begged the Herald. "No good can come by siding with Tevinter. This place was my home and the people here have suffered enough because of magic like theirs. The mages here only want peace, but they can't have that if we ally with the Imperium."_

Rajmael could see the pain in the boy's eyes. He remembered that look vividly; it was in Eva's eyes when her parents were killed. _"I will do what I can, Connor. I won't let the lives of those who died be vain."_

"_Thank you, Lord Herald."_ Connor pointed to the tavern. _"The Grand Enchanter is waiting for you over there. Help her to see reason."_

When Rajmael and his compatriots entered the tavern they were met with a mixed reception. The tavern was so silent you could hear a feather fly. Some of the mages inside had a look of relief on their faces, while others had a hateful glare in their eyes. Fiona, however, had a composed look of surprise and confusion.

"_Welcome, agents of the Inquisition." _Fiona greeted politely, but perplexed. _"What brings the Herald of Andraste here?"_

Now it was their turn to be confused.

"_My dear Fiona! How could you forget someone as distinct as the Herald?"_ Vivienne mocked. "_Is your age catching up to you?"_

The Grand Enchanter shot a look at Vivienne that could pierce a man's heart. _"Enchanter Vivienne. Found someone else to spread your legs for? Is Duke Bastien's age catching up with him? At his age I'm surprised he even has need of a woman."_

Rajmael liked Fiona already, but he still had to deal with her. And quickly before a cat fight broke out. _"Girls, please. You're both pretty, but let's not let things get ugly here. I doubt this tavern was designed for bar fights with mages. Now, Grand Enchanter, we met in Val Royeaux. You invited me to meet with you here."_

"_That cannot be. I haven't been the capital since before the Conclave." _Fiona answered.

This was getting more curious. "_I know it was you. You can't mistake the leader of the Mage-Rebellion for any other elf."_

"_Now that you mention it, I have been feeling strange. Like dreaming, but…."_ Fiona shook her head sadly. _"Either way, whoever or whatever brought you here, the situation has changed. The free mages here have…pledged themselves to the Tevinter Imperium. And as one endentured to a magister, I no longer have the authority to treat with you."_

Of all the stupid, idiotic, suicidal and otherwise doomed mistakes, Fiona had to make that one _"Are you insane!? How could an elf of all things make such a terrible mistake?!"_

"_This is why you can't trust mages." Iron_ Bull growled.

"_I know you and yours are desperate, Grand Enchanter." _Solas reasoned. _"But pledging yourselves to another form of slavery will only make things worse for your people."_

"_Do you not fear all of Thedas turning against you!?"_ Cassandra scowled.

"_All of Thedas was already against us!"_ Fiona shot back. _"All hope for peace died with Justinia, and the Chantry would no longer wished to parley with the mages. I did what I had to save as many lives as I could."_

The tavern door swung open as someone entered inside. "_Welcome my friends! I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier to greet you!"_

This man was most definitely a foreigner from the North, judging from his accent. He wore mage robes that were stitched with armor, gauntlets and pauldrons that gave of an air of power rather than wisdom, and they were patterned with the draconic symbols of the Tevinter Imperium. The man appeared to be in his fifties and had a styled close shave beard, and a closely shaven head. He was also accompanied by a younger looking man who shared some of his features, his son perhaps?

Rajmael could feel the magic radiating off this guy. Unlike Fiona's, whose magic had a sense of warmth and fortitude, his magic was burning hot but with a sense of darkness underneath it. This man was undoubtedly a mage of Tevinter. Rajmael's sword hand began to itch.

"_Agents of the Inquisition, allow me to introduce Magister Gereon Alexius of the Tevinter Imperium."_ Fiona introduced.

"_The southern mages are under my protection."_ The magister proclaimed. "_And you are the survivor, the one from the Fade? Interesting. Please, come sit with me."_

"_Before we begin any talks, I would like to know how is it that the mages of the south became…indentured to a magister." _Rajmael stated.

"_Certainly. Our southern brethren have no legal status in the Imperium in the fact that they are not born citizens. By Tevinter law, they must work for a number of ten years in service to magisterium to gain full rights a citizens. And as their protector, I shall oversee their work for the Imperium."_

Rajmael remembered that time rift outside the gates of Redcliffe_. "I find it extremely odd that a magister from the Imperium should show up just when the Conclave was destroyed and bares an offer of asylum for the mages of the south just when they were most vulnerable."_

"_It was certainly very…timely."_ Fiona agreed.

"_Divine providence!"_ Alexius laughed. "_Surely the Maker himself bade me to come here when I did."_

"_Where is Arl Teagan?"_ Cassandra demanded. _"I find it hard to believe that he would let a Tevinter Magister to walk his lands without his supervision."_

"_The Arl graciously gave the mages refuge here, when I arrived we…agreed that he take a leave of absence while arrangements were made between me and my southern brothers and sisters."_

A fire lit up in Cassandra's eyes_. "You expect us to believe that Arl Teagan, who stood his ground against an army of undead and the hordes of the Blight for his people, would just up and leave on the word of a foreigner?"_

The magister sighed wearily. _"Believe what you will, my dear. But in the absence of the Arl and while the mages here are in service to me, you must treat with me. So, shall we begin the talks?"_

Rajmael's hand left his sword handle as he sat at the opposite end of the table and pulled out his pipe. _"Do you mind if I smoke?"_

"_You are my guest. Please, make yourself comfortable." _Alexius sat down at the table and addressed the young man next to him_. "Felix, would you kindly fetch some paper and a scribe? Pardon my manners, Herald. This is Felix, my son."_

The younger Tevinter nodded respectfully to the Herald as he walked to do as his father bid.

Alexius carefully watched his son walk away, as though he wanted to make sure he was safe, before directing his attention back to the elf across from him. _"I already know why you're here, Herald. Closing the Breach is not a feat many could attempt. There is no telling how many mages would be needed for such an endeavor. A truly ambitious undertaking."_

"_That's why I'm here."_ Rajmael said emotionlessly as he lit his pipe.

"_And what would your Inquisition be willing to offer for our aid?"_ Alexius asked curiously. _"The mages already have promises of protection, and as a magister I have little need for coin or political promises. What could you possible give that would equal what our aid is worth?"_

Rajmael took a long drag of his pipe and slowly exhaled the smoke out his nostrils, the strange scent of the herbs filled the air. _"Look I realize you probably don't think much of me or the Inquisition. But I know even you must respect Aedan Cousland's reputation. And when he gets here…."_

"_Wait!"_ One of the mages shouted. _"The Aedan Cousland is coming here?"_

"_Oh, haven't you heard?" R_ajmael asked innocently. _"The Hero of Ferelden has joined the Inquisition, and will be here in just a few days."_

A sudden element of dread filled the air as all the mages in the tavern, including Enchanter Fiona, remembered every story, every tale told about Aedan Cousland's legendary wrath and what horrible fates would await them if they incurred his anger.

"_I've heard the Hero of Ferelden despises Tevinters, magisters especially."_ Rajmael informed_. "Somehow they offend his Fereldan sense of independence. Skinned a slaver from the Imperium alive and then forced him to eat his own entrails. How happy do you think he'll be to find a magister taking a shit in his own backyard?" _Rajmael could see that Alexius was takin this seriously. _"Now, you can either choose to treat with me, or you can choose to take your chances with a man who devours his enemies while they're still breathing. What's it going to be?"_

Alexius' lips curdled like sour milk. Before he had a chance to respond, Felix returned with his quill and paper, the inexplicably collapsed to his knees next to his father.

"_Felix!"_ The magister practically cried as he tried to aid his son. "_Are you alright?!"_

"_I'm fine, Father."_ Felix answered as he hoisted himself back up on the table. He left a piece of paper on the table right in front of Rajmael, but Alexius didn't notice.

"_Let us get you to the healer."_ Alexius bade worriedly. He turned his attention back to his guests. _"I shall send word to the Inquisition. Let us conclude these negotiations at a later date."_

"_Will you treat with me, or with Lord Cousland?"_ Rajmael asked dauntingly.

"_You're here. I will deal with you."_ The magister answered as he followed after his son, then exited the tavern with his Tevinter bodyguards.

Rajmael picked up the piece of paper, it may have been a message. He got up to leave, but Fiona gently grabbed his hand.

"_I am so sorry about this, Herald."_ She said genuinely and full of worry. _"But I was losing too many people, I had to protect them."_

"_Desperation does not always excuse stupidity." _Rajmael scolded. _"You entered into an arrangement that you have no control over, and now your people may suffer for it. Good intentions don't always have great outcomes."_

"_Trust me, I know that better than you realize."_ Fiona admitted with deep sorrow painted on her face as she walked out of the tavern.

**~XoXoXo~**

Everyone cleared out of the Tavern as soon as Fiona was gone. The situation was a lot more complicated than they had hoped. A rift that alters the very time around it, and a magister appearing almost out of the blue? That cannot be a coincidence. Rajmael looked at the letter Felix slipped him. _Nothing is what it seems. You are in grave danger. Get to the Chantry. _Well, that was foreboding.

"_Let us be careful."_ Cassandra cautioned_. "This seems like a trap."_

"_It all smells like a trap, Cassandra."_ Rajmael commented.

"_Hey, boss. Were you serious when you said that the Hero of Ferelden joined the Inquisition?"_ Iron Bull asked almost hopefully.

"_Sweet Sylaise, no!"_ Rajmael admitted_. "I was just blowing smoke to get that Tevinter ass-monkey to take me seriously. And did you the looks on their faces? They looked like they were ready to crap themselves!"_

"_Wow."_ Varric sighed_. "I can't wait to see how well you play a round of Wicked Grace."_

They made it over to the local chantry and were unpleasantly surprised to find that the supposedly holiest place in the village was infested with foul demons, and with a Rift crackling inside. How ironic.

"_Oh, here you are!"_ Said a man who appeared to be a Tevinter mage_. "Help me out with this, would you?"_

Who the hell was that? Oh, well. Time to kill. With everyone inside the Chantry, the demons barely had room to breathe. Within a matter of moments the demons were slain and Rajmael extended his marked hand out to the Rift and felt that powerful connection to the Fade as he pierced through the Veil. With the simple gesture of closing his fist, the Rift sealed shut.

"_Incredible! How did you even do that?"_ The new mage asked_. "Ha. You don't even really know do you? You just lift your hand up to blazing hole of demon-spewing madness and poof! Problem solved."_

This man was obviously from the north, judging from his accent. And he was obviously a Tevinter, judging from his foreign clothing. His skin was bronzed from spending years under the sun and his hair was neatly combed and styled, along with his carefully trimmed and stylized mustache and soul patch; this man obviously cared a great deal about his appearance.

"_I'm sorry are you waiting for a standing ovation, or maybe a prize?"_ Rajmael asked sarcastically.

"_What, you mean I don't get either? But what about that grand entrance I made?"_ The man asked in humorously.

"_Walk out of the Fade in the middle of a burning temple and maybe I'll be impressed. Now who are you and what's going on here?"_

"_Oh, fine."_ The mage sighed_. "Dorian Pavus of House Pavus. Mage of the Circle of Vyrantium, come recently from Minrathous. At your humble service, Herald."_ The man introduced as he took a bow like he was impressing an audience.

"_Great, more Vints."_ Iron Bull grunted in disgust.

"_Be careful, Rajmael. Tevinter mages are treacherous by nature."_ Cassandra warned.

"_Suspicious friends you have here, Herald."_ Dorian chuckled.

"_Suspicious highly trained, and homicidal."_ Rajmael clarified_. "Why is a magister from the Vyrantium Circle of Magi here in Redcliffe?"_

"_First, let me get something straight."_ Dorian groaned. _"Yes, I am a mage from Tevinter, no I am not a member of the Magisterium. I know you southerners use the term interchangeably, but that just make you sound like barbarian."_

"_Mage, magister, who gives a damn!?"_ Rajmael growled. _"Why are you here, and why did I have to close that Rift? There was another like it outside Redcliffe, and they both seemed to affect the time around it."_

"_Magister Alexius was once my mentor and patron."_ Dorian finally answered seriously. _"I have information on him which could be invaluable to you, as I'm sure you can imagine. Although, I would prefer to tell you when Felix arrives."_

"_Alexius couldn't jump to Felix's side fast enough, but even I could see that he was faking it. Is something wrong with him?"_

"_I'm afraid so. He's had some lingering illness for some time. Felix is the last living son of House Gereon, and Alexius is being a mother hen."_ Dorian explained.

"_I realize that Tevinter probably has more backstabbing intrigue than Orlais, but why would your turn on your own mentor?"_ Rajmael asked again.

"_I said 'was' my mentor. 'Was' being the definitive word."_ Dorian emphasized. _"Look, you're in danger. Even without the note, that should be obvious. Don't you think that it's odd that a Tevinter Magister should show up out of the blue and take the mages out from under you just when the Conclave was destroyed? As if by magic?"_

"_How could Alexius pull off something like that so timely? Can he predict the future?"_

"_Predict the future!? Ha! Don't be absurd."_ Dorian laughed. "_No. He distorted time itself by using this Rift here as a portal to arrive at the perfect time."_

"_That would be incredibly fascinating if true." _Solas remarked. _"And it would also be incredibly dangerous, with dire consequences."_

"_Impossible."_ Vivienne commented. _"There have been several prominent Circle mages that have made such attempts, all of them ended in disaster. You expect us to believe some Magister from the North has perfected this attempt?"_

"_Used, yes. Perfected? Not quite."_ Dorian clarified. _"The Rifts that Alexius has opened are unstable, and there are more such Rifts appearing outside of Redcliffe. Soon they'll unravel all reality."_

"_And how do you know what this kind of magic can do?"_ Rajmael asked interestedly.

"_Because I helped create it."_ Dorian answered truthfully_. "But at the time it was all purely theory. It seems Alexius has found a way of getting to work, but he hasn't perfected it. What I don't understand is why he is doing it. Ripping apart the fabric of time just to get a few hundred lackeys? It's not like him."_

"_He didn't do it for them."_ Felix answered as he emerged from the shadows.

"_It's about time you got here, Felix."_ Dorian sighed_. "Does your father suspect anything?"_

"_No, but I shouldn't have played the illness card. I thought he'd never stop fussing over me."_ Felix turned his attention to the Herald. "_My father has joined a cult called the Venatori. Tevinter supremacists. And one thing I can say for certain: whatever he's done here, he did it to get to you."_

This was getting crappier by the second. _"Why would you turn against your own father, Felix?"_

Felix sighed despondently. _"I love my father, and my country. But this? Cults? Time magic? It all spells disaster, it is madness. For his own sake, he needs to be stopped."_

"_We've already got one giant hole in the sky, we don't need Alexius also ripping time apart at the seams."_ Dorian added.

"_Why would your father indenture the mages just to get to me?"_

"_They're obsessed with you, but I don't know why."_ Felix answered. _"It may have something to do with what happened at the Temple of Sacred Ashes."_

"_Perhaps they had something to do with the destruction of the Conclave and see you as a threat?"_ Dorian suggested.

"_Chantry officials, Orlesian aristocracy, Circle Mages and now Tevinter cultists. Shit, I've never been so popular."_ Rajmael chuckled.

"_Being the center of attention isn't always what it's cracked up to be."_ Dorian informed jokingly. _"Trust me, I know."_

"_We know Alexius is after Rajmael."_ Cassandra stated. _"That is the first step to turning the situation to our advantage."_

"_It's best we not linger here much longer."_ Dorian suggested. _"Alexius doesn't know I'm here, and I'd rather keep it that way. I want to be there when you confront him, so I'll be in touch."_

"_And I'd better get back to my father before I'm missed." _Felix said before turning to leave.

Everyone discreetly left the Chantry, and tried to wrap their minds around what was happening. If this cult was after Rajmael for his mark, then maybe they had something to do, or were directly involved with the death of the Divine and the destruction of the Conclave. If so then they needed to proceed with caution and clarity.

"_We must be careful."_ Cassandra warned_. "What if Dorian was sent to lure us into a trap? Tevinter mages are infamous for their treachery."_

"_Associating with apostates and vagabonds is one thing, dear. But dealing with even well-meaning Tevinters could irreparably damage the Inquisition's reputation."_ Vivienne caviled.

"_Whether or not we can trust this Dorian, this is a threat we cannot ignore. And it seems that he is the only one with information that can aid us."_ Solas added.

"_First I need to get back to Haven and consult the matter with the War Council and devise a plan of approach."_ Rajmael stated. _"We can't just walk into this situation blindly._

**Back in Haven's War Room**

This was possibly one of the worst situations they could be in right now. A foreign national, a slave owning Tevinter Magister of all things, taking up residence in one of Ferelden's oldest, most unassailable fortresses with an army of mages in service to him while he acted like he owned the place. This was a recipe for an international shit-storm, and they lacked a whole lot of options. And now they just received a letter by raven from Magister Alexius inviting Rajmael to meet with him and conclude their negotiations.

"_We don't have the man power to just take the castle by force!"_ Cullen argued. _"Either we find another way in, or give up this foolishness and go get the templars!"_

"_Redcliffe is in the hands of a magister." _Cassandra stated grimly_. "This cannot be allowed to stand."_

"_The letter sent by Alexius asked for the Herald by name. It's an obvious trap!"_ Josephine said full of worry.

"_Last month I was sleeping in the woods, now a Tevinter Magister is requesting my company."_ Rajmael almost laughed. _"I am moving up in the world."_

"_The letter was so complimentary and heartfelt, that I am utterly certain that he wants to stab in the back."_ Leliana announced.

"_Not this again."_ Josephine sighed.

"_Recliffe Castle was designed to be impenetrable!"_ Cullen yelled_. "It has repelled thousands of assault for over a thousand years! If you go in there, you will die, and we will lose our only means of closing the Breach. I will not allow it."_

"_And if we stand here and do nothing we will lose the mages, and a hostile foreign power gains a foothold on our back flank."_ Leliana argued.

"_Even if we could assail the castle it would be for naught. Most Fereldan lords think our Inquisition is Orlesian in allegiance."_ Josephine asserted_. "They would see it as an assault on their sovereign soil. Our hands are tied."_

"_And what of Arl Teagan?"_ Leliana asked. _"Surely he'd welcome any aid to reclaim his keep."_

"_By now the Arl has rode to Denerim to petition the crown's aid."_ Josephine answered_. "I doubt they'll gladly accept our help."_

Cassandra refused to accept this. "_The Magister-!"_

"_Has outplayed us."_ Cullen finished.

Rajmael wasn't going to back down_. "Felix said that this Venatori cult is obsessed with me, they're not just going to leave me alone simply because it's too inconvenient. Alexius wants to exploit the mage's desperation, and the people of Redcliffe need our help. We cannot abandon them! The castle was built impenetrable, that means there are other ways into it that enemies wouldn't attack."_

"_We do not possess any plans or blueprints of the castle that would be of use to us."_ Josephine informed.

Realization struck Leliana in the face. _"Wait! I know of a way in! During the Blight Arl Teagan told the Hero of Ferelden and the rest of us about a secret passage known only to the Guirren family. I know a path that leads straight to the grand hall where Alexius will be. We can send our scouts in through there."_

Cullen shook his head. It was one problem after another. _"It's still too risky. Those agents will be detected before they even reach Alexius."_

"_Not unless he's distracted."_ Leliana suggested_. "By something he wants? Like, say, the Herald?"_

Now they were getting somewhere_. "Focus their attention on Rajmael, while our agents sneak inside. It's risky, but it could work."_

"_Fortunatley you'll have help." _Dorian declared as he unceremoniously busted in through the door_. "And you're in luck, your help comes in the form of a dashing, and good looking mage!"_

Apparently Dorian wasn't the type of man to knock when he wanted to insert himself in something. _"Are you bringing more than just your ego, or do you plan to just charm your way in?"_ Rajmael asked mordantly.

"_Ha. Trust me, what I lack in being mundane I quickly make up for in pure talent_" Dorian assured. _"Your spies will never make it past Alexius' wards without my help, so I'll be tagging along."_

Rajmael now knew what needed to be done. "_The longer we wait the stronger the Venatori's presence in this kingdom will be. We do this now. Cassandra, you and Varric will accompany me to meet with Alexius while the others wait in the village in case we don't come back."_

"_Understood." _Cassandra acknowledged.

"_Josephine, try to send word to the King Alistair that we're trying to resolve the situation. See if you can smooth things out before it escalates into an international incident."_

"_I'll see to it personally."_ Josephine promised.

"_The mages and people of Redcliffe need our help, and these Venatori know something about what happened at the Conclave."_ Rajmael asserted confidently_. "We are taking control of this situation now. Alexius will not do any more harm than he's already done."_

**Redcliffe Castle**

It was now nightfall. The castle was dead with silence. There wasn't a Knight of Redcliffe or a servant in service to the Guirrens to be found anywhere. Just those armored, white cloaked mages wearing their Tevinter hoods and war masks. Their masks made them seem as soulless and grim as gargoyles.

Rajmael, Cassandra and Varric were led to the castle throne room where Alexius was waiting for them. A gangly worm of chamberlain came to address them.

"_Announce us."_ Rajmael ordered.

The chamberlain's face curdled in disgust at being ordered by an elf of all creatures_. "The invitation was for…Master Lavellan only."_

"_Do you really want to try telling Seeker Pentaghast where she can and cannot go, maggot?"_

The chamberlain got one good look at Cassandra's signature scowl and realized that this weapon-shaped woman could probably kill him just with her glare, and relented. He led them further into the hall where Alexius was sitting on a Fereldan styled throne as though his ass belonged on it, with Enchanter Fiona and Felix standing on either side of him. The three mages stood before the fearsome gaze of two giant mabari statues snarling on charge from the wall. The only light in the room was from the blazing fireplace.

"_My lord Magister. The Herald of Andraste, Master Lavellan and his…companions."_ The chamberlain introduced.

"_My friend! So good of you to return!"_ Alexius welcomed_. "And your associates as well. Come, I'm sure we can work out some arrangement that will be mutually beneficial to all parties involved."_

Fiona stood out on the floor with an angered look on her face. _"Are we mages to have no say in our fates?"_

Alexius sighed in annoyance_. "Fiona, my dear, you would not have placed your people under my care if you did not trust me with their lives."_

Rajmael could feel the friction between the two. Now's a good time to make more. _"If Grand Enchanter Fiona wants a say in these talks, then I welcome here voice as a guest of the Inquisition."_

Alexius' face subtly twisted in annoyance as he sat himself back on his usurped chair. _"The Inquisition needs mages to close the Breach, and I have them. So, what do you propose that could exchange their value?"_

Rajmael's golden eyes began to glow subtly, a reflection of how felt. _"Actually, I was thinking I would just take the mages, you tell everything I want to know, and I won't let you be slaughtered by the pissed off dog-lords of this country."_

"_And how do you think I'll accept such a proposal?"_ Alexius asked indignantly.

"_On your knees, if you're smart."_ Rajmael seethed as his hand glided to his sword_. "Why are you here, and what does the Venatori have to do with the Conclave?"_

Alexius returned Rajmael's glare_. "Where did you here that name, knife-ear?"_

"_I told him."_ Felix answered as he faced his father.

"_Felix? What have you done?"_ The magister asked with a look of betrayal.

"_Your trap has failed, Alexius. And you're stuck in here with me." _Rajmael warned. _"I suggest you start talking before I show you how pitiful Tevinter magic really is."_

Alexius rose from his chair with a defiant look of rage. _"You come into my stronghold with your stolen mark, a gift you don't even understand, and think you're in control!? You are nothing mistake!"_

So he did know something about the Conclave. _"What is this mark!? What did your cult have to do with the Conclave!?"_

"_It was meant to be our moment of triumph! The hour of glory for the Elder One!"_ The magister preached like he was at a sermon. _"The moment of rebirth for this world!"_

"_Father, listen to yourself!"_ Felix bade. _"Don't you realize what you sound like?"_

"_He sounds exactly like the sort of villainous archetype these southerners paint us to be."_ Dorian answered as he emerged from the shadows. _"Quite a poor impression of us, I must say."_

"_Dorian."_ Alexius seethed. _"I gave you the chance to join us, to share in our reshaping of the world, but you refused. You shall regret your lack of vision. The Elder One has power that has not been seen since the time of The Old Gods. He will raise the Imperium from its own ashes."_

This was getting annoying_. "My god is better than your god, because my god can do this and that. It's the starting line for every theological argument in history."_ Rajmael could hear the Inquisition agents working in the shadows.

Dorian tried to reach out to his former mentor. _"Alexius, this is exactly what we used to talk about not wanting to happen in the Imperium! How can you turn your back on your own beliefs!?"_

"_Because I will not turn my back on my son!" _Alexius shouted desperately. "_If I can undo my mistake at the Conclave…"_

"_I'm going to die, father!"_ Felix shouted. "_You need to accept that."_

"_Seize them, Venatori! The Elder One demands the Herald's life!"_ Alexius' order fell silent as his men fell down dead and the Inquisition agents emerged from the shadows.

"_It's over, Alexius!"_ Rajmael drew his sword_. "Surrender now!"_

Shock wasn't enough to describe how Alexius looked right now, but he wasn't going to back down now. _"You are a mistake! You never should have existed!"_ An amulet glowing with green energy floated from Alexius' hand as he began to conjure a powerful spell.

Dorian's eyes lit up with shock and horror at the sight of the amulet. _"NO!"_ He whirled his staff and launched a counter spell at the amulet. The magic of the amulet went out of control as a Rift emerged out of it, and consumed Dorian and The Herald.

**XoXoXo**

As quickly as the vortex swallowed the two mages, it spat them out, but not in the throne room. They wound up is some waterlogged dungeon, and the vortex attracted two guards wearing Tevinter styled lock-helms.

"_Blood of the Elder One!"_ one of the guards cursed.

"_Where'd they come from?"_ The other asked as they charged the two intruders.

Rajmael and Dorian exchanged a look of puzzlement as they engaged the strangely armored guards. Rajmael used his sword to throw a wave of energy that cut the one's head off, while Dorian threw a dark ball of entropic energy that made the other explode into a thousand wet chunks.

The two mages had a quick look around when a realization appeared on Dorian's face. _"Hmm. A displacement backlash? Interesting. Alexius meant to kill us, but the influx of arcane energy must have thrown the spell out of balance."_

"_That wasn't a Rift that Alexius summoned."_ Rajmael pointed out. "_The imbalance of your magic trying to counteract his spell must've thrown the magic that amulet was trying to conjure. Interrupting spells during the midst of conjuring is ever healthy."_

"_Yes, you you're quite right. But then…Of course!"_ Dorian gasped. _"He used the amulet as a focus but my spell threw the focus off and sent us forward through time! That was completely unintentional, you and I should be happy we weren't torn apart by the displacement of time."_

"_If he sent us forward through time, then how far? And how can we get back?"_

"_Both good questions."_ Dorian pondered. _"That amulet Alexius used, he and I both created it back in Tevinter. If I can get my hands on it I may be able to send us back, or kill us both. Let's hope for the latter."_

More time displacement magic. Alexius obviously didn't fully comprehend the consequences of such unstable magic, as evidenced by the current state of the Redcliffe Castle. What in Mythal's mercy happened here? It was a nightmare come to life.

There were crow's nests of dead and dying people within the dungeons and Tevinter style architecture plastered into the walls. It was as if someone tried to tear apart any memory of Fereldan culture here and overlap it with Tevinter's. And worse yet, there was red lyrium growing out of the very walls! Boulder and walls just made of the stuff. What happened here? How long were they gone?

"_Y-you're alive!?"_ a sickly, yet familiar voice_. "How is this possible? I saw you disappear into the Rift."_

Rajmael couldn't believe his eyes. It as Fiona! She was encased in red lyrium…no. Red lyrium was growing out of her, like a diseased tree. _"Fiona? Is that you?"_

"_Wh-what's left…of her." _The mage gasped weakly.

"_O Holy Andraste!"_ Cassandra cried from within her own cell. _"The end of the world must truly be upon us if the dead now walk amongst us!"_

"_And I thought I was done being unpleasantly surprised by the weird and horific." _Cracked a voice that could only belong to Varric.

Sweet Sylaise, Rajmael thought to himself. What happened to them? Fiona's body was growing the foul lyrium while Varric and Cassandra were both glowing red and looked as though they had some kind of horrible fever boiling in their bodies. Were they going to end up as Fiona?

Rajmael knelt by Cassandra's cell and grasped her hand in his_. "Cassandra! I'm not a ghost. I'm truly here, and I'm going to get you out."_

Cassandra pressed Rajmael's hand against her face to know that it was truly him, and bitter tears began to well up in her eyes. _"Please forgive me."_ Cassandra wept. _"I failed you."_

"_How long have we been gone?"_ Dorian finally asked. _"So much has changed."_

"_A year."_ Fiona answered weakly. _"A year was all that it took, and all of Thedas was unraveled."_

"_What has Alexius' spell done?"_ Dorian asked. _"I didn't think he was capable of such destruction."_

"_No! Alexius was always just a puppet."_ Fiona answered. _"His master, The Elder One, did all of this. He has power like no one's ever seen. More power than the Maker."_

"_First he assassinated Empress Celene."_ Varric coughed. _"Then with the chaos consuming the empire, his demon army ravaged the whole south. Hawke led a last ditch effort to try and hold the demon army at bay."_ A pained look gripped Varric's face as his voice began to crack. _"The Elder One piked his head right next to Isabella and Merrill's."_

Neither of the time displaced mages liked where this was going_. "Where is Alexius? If I can get his amulet, I can send Rajmael and I back to the past and undo all of this."_

"_Then the Maker has not forsaken us."_ Cassandra said with renewed vigor. "_We can still save this world."_

"_And here I was giving up on believing in miracles."_ Varric laughed dismally. "_The guards say Alexius never leaves his throne room. That's where we'll find that sonuva bitch."_

"_Make haste."_ Fiona called_. "Before the Elder One feels your presence."_

"_First we must find Leliana."_ Cassandra said_. "We cannot forsake her to the hands of these Venatori."_

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael got his companions out of their cells and found their weapons in the Venatori's armory. Varric tearfully held Bianca to him as they were finally reunited together. They delved further into the hellhole this castle had become and were beset by Venatori and the demons they summoned. Cassandra and Varric fought with a rage and hatred Rajmael did not know they possessed. After a year of suffering various horrors and everything they ever loved being taken from them, they wanted revenge.

One of the Venatory spellbinders tried to crawl away from the angry invaders, but Varric stomped on the man's knee and pinned him to the ground. Varric grabbed his knife and angrily shoved it into the mage's ear and into his brain_. "That was for Daisy, you bastards!"_ Varric spat hatefully on their bodies.

They found Leliana in midst of being interrogated and tortured for information regarding Rajmael's interference at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Leliana refused and spat in the gaoler's face. The second Rajmael and his companions barged into the jail, Leliana slipped her binds and snapped the jailer's neck like a twig.

Rajmael no longer recognized Sister Nightingale. She looked as though she aged thirty years and was covered in old wounds. Her once vibrant red hair was now dim and brittle. But the most frightening difference was the hate and pain in her eyes. It was like she was a totally different person now.

"_Do you have weapons?"_ Leliana asked. Rajmael nodded. _"Good."_ She strode over to the table and picked up a bow and some weapons.

"_Er, don't you care how we got here?"_ Dorian asked apprehensively.

"_No. You're here now and I know you're looking for Alexius."_ Leliana answered with anger and despair in her voice. _"That is all a need to know."_

"_Look, the two of us leapt forward in time."_ Dorian tried to explain. _"If we can get to Alexius, then this, all of this, need not happen."_

"_Stop!"_ Leliana growled. _"You think that this is just some other reality, a dream to undo. Well, it isn't. I suffered, the whole world suffered, and it was real. And you mages wonder why the world is always against you. No one should have this kind of power."_

This was definitely not the Leliana Rajmael remembered. She always had sympathy for the mages, not malice. Something truly terrible must've happened to changer her so profoundly. "Do you know how to get to the main hall from here, Leliana?"

"_Yes. But first there is one more person we must find if we're to have a better chance of getting to the Magister."_

"_Who?"_

"_Someone very angry..."_ Leliana answered spitefully.

**~XoXoXo~**

Leliana led them down into the lower levels of the dungeons. The place was a dark as a tomb and reeked of rotting dead. At the end of the black hall was a single lit room with the sounds of torture coming from it, but no screams. They could hear whips, rods and blades against flesh while the torturers laughed.

"_Come on, lord! Scream!"_ One of them laughed as he struck his victim with an iron rod. "_You know who to scream, don't ya?!"_

"_Course he does!"_ Mocked another_. "Remember how he screamed when we tortured his slut woman?"_

"_He didn't scream half as loud as when we tore apart his little bastard boy!"_

"_Not half as loud as your about to scream."_ Leliana promised as she and Varric held their arrows on them.

Rajmael took a moment to look at the man they were torturing with such pleasure. He was strapped to a table and his body was an open wound with patches of his was greying hair pulled out. And aside from his wounds his body was pale and sickly, veins appeared under the skin like black vines and his eyes were pale and hollow. This once powerful man was thick with the Blight.

But most striking of all was his tattoos which still showed, despite his terrible wounds and Blighted corruption. A badged shield with a white wreath in the form wings on a blue field was stamped over his heart. On his skinned knees was the remnants of the Fereldan flag, which were now tattered ruins of flesh that revealed the bones beneath. And on his face was the dimmed, faded blue tattooing in the design of Alamarri war paint.

"_Andraste's perky tits."_ Varric gasped.

"_I do not believe it."_ Cassandra dismayed.

"_Aedan Cousland."_ Rajmael realized in awe and shock. _"The Hero of Ferelden."_

One of the guards wrapped his hand under Aedan's chin and pressed a knife to the side of his face. "_Put down your weapons, or I'll cut his throat!"_

Aedan's eyes burned red with hatred, and his teeth clamped down on the man's wrist and practically bit the man's hand off. As the man screamed with his radial arteries severed, Leliana and Varric shot the other two in the head. With the entropic energy of death and pain powering him, Aedan tore himself off the torture slab, grabbed the still living torturer and not only bit his throat out, he ate it.

The Reaver stood and felt the men's death and pain heal his recently inflicted wounds, but the corruption in his veins remained. Aedan looked at his rescuers with anger in his eyes. "_Leliana? You look like shit."_

"_Good to see you too, Aedan."_ Leliana said with equal contempt. _"We may have a way to stop the Elder One and saving everyone. We just need to get to Alexius."_

Aedan walked over to the nearby table as if he didn't hear Leliana. He picked up a small Grey Warden amulet that was encrusted with blood. Quiet sobs racked his body as he clutched the small trinket to his chest. _"Kieran. They made me watch…they made me watch as the Elder One murdered him."_ Aedan wept painfully.

In all the tales that Rajmael had heard of Aedan Cousland, he never would have guessed that such a powerful could cry like that. Aedan's weeping was soon replaced by a sinister red aura that seemed to feed on death that surrounded them. He turned to them bearing the Frightening Appearance of an enraged demon. _"LISTEN! I don't give a shit why you're here or what you're doing! I'm going to kill that magister fuck, so either help me or get out of my way."_

Well, Rajmael was ready to crap his pants, but he wasn't going to let anyone else know that. _"If you can get us to Alexius, we can undo the damage he and the Elder One have done here. We can still save your homeland."_

"_The corruption is going to kill me soon."_ Aedan stated. _"But before it does, I'm going to spit in the Elder One's face. I know the way to the main hall, follow me."_

Following the Hero of Ferelden through demon infested halls. Rajmael could check that off the list of things he never expected to do. He remembered that threat he made to Alexius back at the tavern. Now he was going to make good on that threat.

Aedan grabbed a gruesome battle-axe and led an assault through the castle and to the outer courtyards. Rajmael and Dorian were met with shock and terror when they saw the sky for the first time in this timeline.

"_Ashante kaffas!"_ Dorian cursed_. "The Breach it's…."_

"_Everywhere."_ Rajmael concluded. The massive glowing tear in the sky now enveloped the whole world as demons fell like rain drops from the Fade and down to the earth below. Holy Dirthamen, how did this happen?

"_Hey!"_ Aedan shouted as Venatori soldiers and entourage of demons broke into the courtyard_. "If you girls are done sightseeing, we've got homicide to commit!"_

Aedan charged the demons and Venatori like a man possessed, Rajmael had never seen such a display of raw power and terrible rage. The Hero of Ferelden swung his axe back and forth, cutting Terror Demons in half and spitting the Rage Demons' heads in two.

Varric and Leliana laid down a line of volley fire and explosive shots to weaken the Venatori soldiers. The arrows met their marks as the explosives shattered and rent their armor. Dorian laid at a protection spell to counteract the spellbinders' offensive magic and protect them from the demons' attacks.

Cassandra and Rajmael fought side by side, mixing her skill and his sorcery to cut down, burn and destroy their enemies as they approached. The enemies' numbers soon dwindled down to nothing as Aedan decapitated the last Venatori mage. With the courtyard cleared they were now free to continue inside.

**~XoXoXo~**

The main hall was infested with more of the Venatori and their pet demons. These creatures were more than capable of handling a small army on their own. But they weren't counting on both the Herald of Andraste and the Hero of Ferelden being in the same building together.

"_We've received word that several prisoners have escaped."_ The Venatori commander informed. _"By the will of the Elder One, they shall not pass here. If you men fail to act here, you punishment will be—Agck!"_ Aedan's axe flew into the commander's face from the other side of the room.

The unarmored, and now barehanded, Hero of Ferelden menacingly strode into the chamber full of enemies with as deathly red aura surrounded the former Warden. His hands glowed blood red and claw-like as his mouth salivated and curled back, revealing his sharp, gnashing teeth. There was another look in his eyes other than rage: hunger.

"_**KIIEERRAAAN!"**_ Aedan screamed as he charged the Venatori and gladly received their attacks of steel and sorcery. Every injury and attack unleashed the power of blood, pain and terror that resided in the enraged Alamarri. Even with the taint rotting in his veins and his body being battered and torn, the Hero of Ferelden was still capable of raining down an ungodly carnage on their enemies. With only his bare hands and teeth, he broke their bodies, smashed their skulls and severed their arteries.

Cassandra stood her ground against a dozen Venatori mages and demons. The red lyrium in her body was causing her horrible amounts of pain and it inhibited her Seeker abilities, but she worked through pain. Summoning all her will power and strength she extended her presence of will to all the demons and mages around her and set the lyrium inside them ablaze. The demons and mages alike screamed in agony as they burned from the inside out and died.

Rajmael activated his Shimmering Shield, making as tangible as a ghost. His sword cut through flesh and steel, men and demons. He raised Enasalin to the air and veilfire from the blade exploded in a corona of flame that sought out and excised their demonic targets. And to finish off any sorry bastard left, Rajmael shouted in the ancient elven tongue and plunged his sword into the ground. A glyph materialized above the elf and blades of pure energy were summoned forth from the Fade and impaled all the remaining enemies.

Dorian looked at the strange door that blocked their way to Alexius with a curious eye._ "Now where in the Maker's name did Alexius get this? How did he even move it in here?"_ The door was inscribed with some kind of protection runes, there were these strange glowing slots in it._ "Hmm. I'll bet these slots act as a lock for this door. If we can find the keys that fit here…."_

"_**MOVE!"**_ Aedan ordered as he approached the door, covered from head to heel in human and demonic blood. He was carrying a human heart that he ripped out of some sorry bastard's chest in his hand. The bloodthirsty Fereldan raised the heart above his head and squeezed the blood into his mouth, then devoured the whole organ in several powerful chomps. His nigh-demonic aura intensified tenfold, and he slammed his fist against the door, shattering it to dust.

Dorian's eyes were as wide as dinner plates. _"Yes, ahem…I, uh, I suppose we could just do that."_

Once again they entered the grand hall of Redcliffe castle. Once again they found Alexius standing in front of the fireplace of his usurped castle with Felix nearby. But something was different. There was a presence of despair lingering around the magister. And Felix seemed…hollow, empty.

"_I knew you'd come, Herald."_ Alexius said despondently_. "I just didn't know when. I knew this whole time that I didn't kill you. Part of me wishes I hadn't even tried. My final failure."_

"_Was it worth it, Alexius?"_ Dorian asked spitefully. _"Everything you did to this world? To yourself?"_

"_What the fuck have you done!?"_ Rajmael demanded. _"Is this the glorious world you wanted!?"_

"_Isn't this world answer enough? Everything I loved, everything I betrayed."_ The magister lamented. _"There is only ruin and death here now. The Elder One is coming. For me, for you. For us all."_

Aedan dashed over to Felix and grabbed him by the neck. Felix put up as much struggle as a boned fish.

"_Felix!"_ Alexius gasped.

"_Felix?"_ Dorian asked abashed. The man he once knew was now more akin to a walking corpse than a man. _"Maker's breath, Alexius, what have you done to him?"_

"_I saved him, Dorian! He would have died if I hadn't!"_ Alexius explained. He looked to Aedan with desperation in his eyes, but Aedan's eyes were full of rage and pain. "_Please, spare my son! He had nothing to do with what the Elder One did to you!"_

"_My son was innocent, too!" _Aedan cried with angry tears.

"_Please! I'll give you whatever you want!"_ The magister begged.

"_What I want?"_ Aedan echoed. _**"A SON! FOR A SON!"**_ The Hero of Ferelden speared his hand into Felix's back plunged it out of his chest, with his heart clenched in Aedan's fist. Aedan ripped his hand out of Felix's body and took a bite out of his heart to spite the magister.

"_No. __**NOOO!**__"_ Alexius wailed. His spear tipped staff threw a skull shaped fireball at the Hero, but Rajmael Fade stepped in front of the attack and deflected it. He advanced on the Magister, sword in hand and brought the blade down on him. Alexius blocked the attack, but Rajmael's blade split the staff cut the staff in two, and cut Alexius from head to hip, splitting the magister right in half. The two halves of the twined magister fell apart as his entrails and organs spilled all over the floor.

Dorian looked upon the remains of his former mentor with more pity and sorrow than disgust as he knelt down to grab the amulet. "_You poor fool."_ Dorian sighed. _"I think he actually wanted to die. Living just became too hard for him."_

"_There was nothing we could have done for your mentor here, Dorian."_ Rajmael said sympathetically. _"If we can get back to our time we may be able to save everyone."_

"_Yes, you're right." _Dorian grabbed the amulet and a look of relief washed over him. "_Good. It's the same one he and I created back in Minrathous. Give me an hour and I can figure out the spell he used, and send us back."_

"_An hour!?"_ Leliana asked cynically. _"We don't have that kind of time. You must go now!"_

An earsplitting roar filled the air and seemed to shake the very world with its presence as something powerful, something demonic arrived at the castle. Everyone, even Aedan Cousland, was filled with dread.

"_The Elder One has arrived."_ Aedan stated darkly as he grabbed an axe of a nearby suit of armor. _"You don't have any more time! We'll hold them off for as long as we can, you try to get that damned spell to work."_

"_That's suicide!"_ Rajmael shouted.

"_Look at us."_ Leliana bemoaned. "_We're already dead. The only way we all survive is if you go back and stop this from ever happening. We'll give you as much time as we can."_

"_Wait!"_ Cassandra bade. She waltzed up to Rajmael and brought his face to hers in a deep kiss filled with doomed passion and loss. Her lips finally parted his and whispered. _"I never regretted following you."_

"_If you two are done tickling each other's tonsils, I'd like to go meet my destiny now."_ Aedan groaned as though his death meant nothing to him. _"Herald! If you make it back alive, spit in the Elder One's eye for me."_

Cassandra and Aedan stood shoulder to shoulder before the main door while Varric and Leliana stood at a distance to give cover fire. The Left and Right Hands of the Divine recited the Canticles of Trials, while Varric whispered sweet nothings to his beloved Bianca one last time. Aedan's eyes burned with rage as he readied to see if there truly were any gods in the afterlife. _"Morrigan, I'll see you and Kieran soon."_ He whispered.

Dorian's spell began to activate as the doors flung open and a legion of demons poured through like a river.

"_**FOR FERELDEEEN!"**_ Aedan roared as he and Cassandra charged the demonic tide with every ounce of strength they had left in them.

The vortex was almost ready. Rajmael watched as Cassandra and Aedan waded into the perversed spirits, swining their weapons with all their might as Leliana and Varric made every shot count. The demons clawed and burned the two warriors, but they refused to go down, not now. Rajmael almost gave into his instinct to aid them.

Dorian grabbed the Herald's shoulder before he gave in to his instincts. "If you move, we die!" The vortex opened wide just as Rajmael witnessed Cassandra being cut down by a Terror Demon. With no more time waste, the two mages jumped into the portal and prayed for that this would work.

**~XoXoXo~**

Just as quickly as the two disappeared into the green magical hole, the two reappeared out of another one amongst green lightning and smoke, not two feet from where the stood, with triumphant smiles on their faces.

"_Is that the best you've got, chump?"_ Rajmael asked mockingly.

"_You've won. There's no point in continuing this charade."_ Alexius conceded as he fell to his knees, just as Rajmael ordered before.

Felix knelt next to his father and placed his arm on him consolingly. "_It will be alright, Father."_

"_But you'll die."_ Alexius almost wept.

"_Everything dies, Father."_ Felix reminded him as the agents of the Inquisition took his father into custody.

"_Well, mages rescued, the time continuum is intact, and I still have wonderful hair." _Dorian bragged. _"I'd call this a good day."_

The doors to the hall busted open, and Rajmael thought it was another demon attack. But it was only Iron Bull, accompanied by the rest of his company.

"_Boss! Everything here alright?"_ Iron Bull asked frantically.

"_You were taking longer than we expected, dear. We feared something might be amiss."_ Vivienne added.

"_I thought I told you guys to stay outside and wait for me?"_ Rajmael scolded sarcastically.

"_We thought that perhaps we should get to you before they do."_ Solas answered.

"_They? They who?"_

"_Probably those guys."_ Dorian pointed.

The castle floor shook and heavy footsteps echoed through the hall as the Fereldan Honor Guard marched into the main hall and stood at attention. Every elite soldier saluted in disciplined unison as the Fereldan Monarchs entered the room. Neither of them looked very happy.

"_Grand Enchanter, imagine how surprised I was when my Uncle Teagan arrived in Denerim and told me that you had handed over his ancestral keep over to a Tevinter magister."_ King Alistair said satirically.

An expectant look of shock and dread came of Fiona as he bowed to the king and queen. _"King Alistair, Queen Anora. I—"_

"_What you've done here is a blatant insult to our hospitality, and an offense against the Fereldan people." _Anora said damningly. _"When we offered the mages refuge here, we did not give you the authority to drive them from their homes!_

"_Your Majesties, I never intended for any of this."_ Fiona tried to explain.

"_I know what you intended!"_ King Alistair shot down. "_We wanted to aid you, but you've trampled on that. You and your followers are no longer welcome in Ferelden. Leave this country, or we'll be forced to make you leave."_

That look of dread now consumed Fiona. _"But…we have hundreds who need protection! Where will we go?"_

"_That's not no longer our problem." _Queen Anora answered.

Rajmael whistled at Fiona as he interjected into the conversation. _"'Scuse me, but, um, I did come here to get the mages to aid the Inquisition. Perhaps you might consider joining us instead?"_

"_And what are the terms of this arrangement?"_ Fiona asked.

"_Hopefully, better than the ones that Alexius made."_ Dorian answered. _"Certainly the Inquisition is a more upstanding institution than that Venatori cult?"_

"_I know you are a mage, but consider what they have done."_ Cassandra voiced. _"They need to answer for this, not be treated as victims." _

"_Indeed."_ Vivienne agreed_. "You cannot trust these mages to know what is truly best, as evidenced by what we've seen here."_

"_Do that and you'll only be repeating the Circle's mistake. Treating allies as prisoners will only sow seeds for further descent."_ Solas reminded.

"_Conscripts are always the first to flee, or turn on you when things go bad." _Blackwall informed.

Iron Bull scratched his head nervously_. "I don't know, boss. Don't we have enough problems with magic already?"_

"_Yeah, we do!"_ Sera answered. _"Stick 'em all in one place and leave 'em there. Normal people got enough problems to deal with it."_

"_Mages are people too, Herald."_ Varric interjected. _"I know people can be really shitty, but if you treat them like criminals, or animals, that's how they're going to behave."_

Rajmael's adopted brother, Nethras, once said opinions are like assholes. Everyone has one and they all smell different, you just had to be careful which one you chose to wipe. _"Will everyone just shut up?!"_ Rajmael asked. Their voices were giving him a headache.

"_It seems we have little choice but to accept whatever you offer."_ Fiona relented.

"_Whatever they offer, I'd take it."_ King Alistair said dangerously. _"One what or another, you're leaving this land."_

Rajmael reached his decision. Having spent most of his life trying to survive in a world that feared and hated his kind, he knew that it was time for a new approach. He looked at Fiona, not as a figure of authority, mage, or even an elf. But as an equal. _"Grand Enchanter Fiona, I, Rajmael of Clan Lavellan, would be honored to extend an invitation for you and your followers to formally join the Inquisition in our goal to seal the Breach."_

Rajmael's party members had mixed feelings about this decision, Fiona on the other hand was obviously touched. _"That…that is a generous offer. And we would be proud to join your cause, Lord Herald."_

"_Oh, darling."_ Vivienne lamented_. "We really need to discuss your methods later."_

Rajmael shot a deadly glare at Vivienne that could shatter glass_. "No. We don't. I've made my decision, now you're going to have to adapt."_

"_Well, I'm glad you've been able to reach a mutually beneficial arrangement."_ King Alistair congratulated. _"Now all of you, get the fuck out of my kingdom!"_

Rajmael and the other bowed respectfully as they filed out of the recently reclaimed castle. After going back and forth through time, saving the time-space continuum and securing an alliance with the Rebel Mages, he was really going to need a drink when they got back to Haven.

His mind traveled back to when he and Dorian were stuck in the future. How the Breach consumed the world, and how the Ventatori and their demons destroyed everything after the assassinated the empress. Aedan Cousland's last stand against the Elder One. What manner of mage or monster was this Elder One that he could tear the very fabric of reality and people would think that is was a good thing? And what did this have to do with the mark on his hand?

AS he walked with the others to the stables he noticed Cassandra looking at him with concern. He gave her a flirtatious wink, and she turned away blushing. Then he remembered the doomed kiss he shared with her back in that dystopian future, and the passion that they had for that briefest of moments. Yes, he was definitely going to need a drink or twenty when he got back to Haven.


	9. Goals Met & Nightmares Found

**Goals Met &amp; Nightmares Found**

To say that the War Council was shocked to see Rajmael walking the path to Haven with hundreds of rebel mages behind him would have been a universal understatement. Suddenly the whole village was a lot more crowded. By the time Rajmael and Cassandra made it into the Chantry, the War Council were already having a heated debate concerning their new recruits.

"_This is not a matter for debate!"_ Commander Cullen dictated. "_There will be abominations amongst the mages, and we must be prepared."_

"_If we rescind the offer of an alliance, it makes the Inquisition seem incompetent at best, tyrannical at worst!"_ Josephine argued. _"The Herald must keep his word if the Inquisition is to be taken seriously. Otherwise we have nothing."_

Cullen's attention went straight to Rajmael. _"How could you turn the mages loose with no oversight?! The Veil is torn open! We cannot count on the mages being in control of themselves with demons running amok!" _

Rajmael returned Cullen's pissed look. _"If I make prisoners or enemies out of them then we're only setting ourselves up for another Kirkwall. I will not have infighting in my own camp!"_

"_I know we need them for the Breach, but what about the innocent?"_ Cullen griped. _"How many lives do we endanger if even a fifth of them fall to possession? With the Veil torn, even the threat of it…."_ Cullen directed his inquiry to Cassandra_. "You were there, Seeker! How could you let this happen and not intervene?!"_

"_While I may not agree with the decision, I support it."_ Cassandra answered. _"The sole purpose of the Inquisition's involvement in Redcliffe was to gain the mages aid, and we've accomplished that. And the Herald is right, we cannot afford any infighting within our ranks. Or amongst ourselves for that matter."_

"_The voice of pragmatism speaks!"_ Dorian joked as he leaned against a nearby column. "_I actually thought your council was about to start killing each other. I'd have put my money on Josephine. She strikes me as one who'd go for the windpipe."_

"_Closing the Breach is all that matters."_ Cassandra finished, obviously annoyed with Dorian's presence.

"_We need to look into 'dark future' you saw, Rajmael."_ Leliana asserted. "The empresses' assassination? A demon army? We must find out what these Venatori are planning."

"_It does sound like something a Tevinter cult would attempt."_ Dorian said with a facile tone_. "The most powerful empire in the south falls, the south gets torn apart by demons. And the Imperium swoops in and takes over everything. Chaos for everyone!"_

"_This is why swooping is bad."_ Leliana groaned.

"_Find out what you can about this cult and their activities."_ Rajmael ordered. _"And while we're at it, the mages are going to need more lyrium if we're going to seal the Breach. Use whatever Carta members that surrendered to us to ship they lyrium they were smuggling in Valammar. In the meantime, I'm going to look over any last minute preparations."_

"_I'll skip that meeting, if you don't mind. But I would like to see the Breach just a bit closes."_ Dorian said.

"_I take it you've decided to stay?"_ Rajmael asked rhetorically.

"_Oh? Didn't I mention? I just adore the south! What, with its frigid cold and demons running amok. It's all so rustically charming."_ Dorian answered smugly.

"_The welcome to the Inquisition. But next time we have to jump through the portals and save the time-space continuum, you're on your own."_

The Council adjourned and left to see to their duties. Josephine was quick to get to work on procuring their much needed lyrium, after quickly sealing a deal with a member of the Dwarven Merchant Guild's Mining Branch.

"_You're quite effective at being an ambassador, aren't you, Josephine?"_ Rajmael complemented.

"_I've had to be."_ Josephine sighed. _"With the Chantry denouncing us, it has been difficult getting the support we need. I was able to secure the lyrium miners by promising them continued work."_

"_Does the Chantry's lack of support for the Inquisition actually harm us?"_

"_I'm afraid so."_ Josephine answered as she sat behind her desk_. "The Chantry's denouncement makes us seem illegitimate. I've had to convince our allies of our intentions, how advantageous we are, as well as calling in a few favors."_

Rajmael could tell that this has been quite the chore for Josephine. Indeed, it seemed that without the Chantry's approval or even their presence, many people didn't know how to anything. _"How is it someone as young and lovely as you is so able to handle so many different people and conflicting challenges? I was actually expecting our ambassador to be much older and much more cantankerous."_

"_Oh, believe me, Herald, there are times that I feel like acting like that image."_ Josephine laughed lightly. _"I actually credit my family for my being so effective at politics."_

"_Oh? Are you from a family of politicians then?"_

"_Ha! Not quite. We are a noble house but we are a merchant family. We have business arrangements and partners all Thedas; it was through meeting and other people from different places."_ Josephine explained_. "And when I attended the University of Val Foveaux I learned how to put my experiences with trade to meet and negotiate with people from other cultures. And that was how I met Leliana, who brought me here in the first place."_

"_I take it you two are good friends?"_

"_Yes, we first met a soiree when I was attending to university."_ Josephine answered with a beaming smile. _"We started talking and soon we decided to leave and go to...a real party."_

Rajmael was intrigued by that look of embarrassed nostalgia on Josephine's face. _"And what, pray tell, is considered a real party?"_

"_Let's just say it involves a goat, two bottles of Starkhaven scotch, a fire rune, and a frilly pair of undergarments." _And embarrassed blush crept across Josephine's cheeks. "And that is all I'm ever going to say."

**~XoXoXo~**

As Rajmael went to leave the Chantry, Vivienne waved him to come talk with her. The Herald rolled his eyes and quickly lit his pipe. He knew he wasn't going to like whatever she had to say.

"_If Fiona and her malcontents are joining us we need to be prepared. Abominations are inevitable"_ The Grand Enchanter said with disdain and concern. _"Cullen does not have enough Templars under his command, more must be trained from the rank and file."_

Rajmael took another drag from his pipe. _"You want me to sabotage my alliance with Fiona before it even starts? That is beyond idiotic."_

"_There is nothing foolish about this."_ Vivienne said angrily. _"There has been no greater threat to mages than the Breach. Until it is sealed, no one is safe."_

"_And you think that by treating the mages like a threat is the solution?" _Rajmael balked back_. "That's what started that whole mess."_

"_Kirkwall and the events at the White Spire was travesties, the Chantry failed in its part to protect its charges, but the aftermath lost all sympathy for mages when they proved everyone's fears to be true when they resorted to terrorism."_

Vivienne almost had a full scowl on her face. Rajmael decided to see if he could make it bigger. _"And it's exactly your kind of thinking that started this whole mess. If the mages are ever to have a true place in the world, then they need a chance to make their place. So we'll start by doing things my way, not your way, mine. Your way has failed."_

Vivienne's face clenched into a frozen look of anger, though she did her best to try to try and keep her calm demeanor_. "And when your decision to overlook the fact that magic is dangerous and leads to another mage catastrophe, do you honestly think the world will be so understanding? You're just sowing the seeds for more innocents to be slain. Mage and nonmage alike. You simply cannot apply your elven way of thinking with the rest of the world."_

Smoke slowly billowed out of Rajmael's nostrils. _"I seem to recall you and I having a little chat about you disrespecting my people." _The Herald reminded as he rested his hand on his sword_. "And I don't need to explain myself. Least of all to the likes of you."_

"_The likes of me?"_ Vivienne repeated, deeply offended_. "Unlike Fiona's malcontents, I have earned my place as Imperial Enchanter."_

"_So you can do tricks for the Orlesian Court like a pet monkey? Whoopdee-fucking-doo! I don't need to defend my decisions from someone who has spent their whole life living up high and looking down on people, but never walking amongst them."_ Rajmael explained spitefully. _"You with your expensive finery and soft hands, that have never seen hardship, doesn't get to lecture me. You have to earn that right, Vivienne. Oh, and do try to stop scowling so hard. It's making your face wrinkle."_

Rajmael walked away with a wide grin on his face, while Vivienne just stood there completely stunned with that angry look of hers frozen on her face. Obviously no one, let alone an elf, has ever spoken to the high and mighty Imperial Enchanter like that before. Rajmael despised that high and might attitude of hers, she needed to be knocked down a few pegs. And it seemed he was just the elf to do it, and it always felt good to put shems like her in their place.

**~XoXoXo~**

Despite the fact that he and Dorian expiereinced time travel together, Rajmael realized he knew next to nothing about the latest addition to his party. He knew he was from Tevinter, but he wasn't the archetypical "embodiment of villainy and debauchery" that he was led to believe, and after their little adventure in the future, Dorian deserved to have a chance to prove he was otherwise.

"_So, you're Dalish, that's the correct word here?"_ Dorian asked as if the word foreign to him.

"_Dalish is the correct word everywhere."_ Rajmael answered.

"_We…we don't have Dalish clans coming up North…for obvious reasons. Though I have heard about your people. A little. Well, just the name really, and some unsavory bedtime tales."_ Dorian admitted nervously. _"I hope this won't be a problem, I am here to help with the Venatori after all."_

"_There are members of my clan who would gladly crucify you to tree, pull out your intestines and then skin you for three days while they waited for the birds and bugs to eat you alive."_ Rajmael answered blithely. _"But after everthing we went through in Redcliffe, I'll abstain from such natural inclinations."_

"_Oh, well that's a relief."_ Dorian laughed_. "After seeing what you're capable of, I'd hate to be on your bad side. I have to admit, however, I was rather surprised about your support for the mages, maybe what the world needs is an elven perspective. And maybe you're just the elf to do it."_

"_Why does my support got the mages surprise you?"_ Rajmael asked curiously.

"_In Tevinter we're taught that the south is savage in the fact that it abuses mages simply for being what they are, that they lock mages in prisons and deny them the right to live, no different than a qunari sarebaas."_ Dorian answered_. "Of course, they say that mostly to make us despise the south and to make us think that the White Chantry is out to enslave us. Still, it is odd to see how mages are treated here."_

"_What are Circles like in Tevinter?"_

"_The Circles are not prisons, like they are here. They are more like very prestigious and very exclusive academies for those gifted with magic to be educated. Of course, being Tevinter, not everyone, even mages, get treated equally. To receive the best education you must have an impressive lineage or an impressive patron. I was talented enough to have both: Magister Alexius was my patron and I was form the prestigious House Pavus, plus I excelled at anything I put my mind to."_ Dorian bragged with a wide grin.

Rajmael guessed there was something else behind his ego and self-accomplishment. _"It sounds like you had it made in Tevinter. Why leave? Why would you stay here?"_

Dorian's grin didn't leave his face, but it wasn't as happy. _"Well, it's like this: I am the scion of House Pavus, the byproduct of careful breeding, and the repository hope of reviving the lost dreamers of old. And I hated being every bit of that. Simply put, my family didn't care for my choices, nor did I care for theirs, so I left."_

When Rajmael was adopted by Clan Lavellan he became close to all of its members, and they all became his family. He found it extremely odd that Cassandra and Dorian spoke of their family with such disdain. _"Did you and your family have a falling out?"_

"_More like an explosion."_ Dorian stated. _"Every Tevinter family wants to revive the 'Ancient Glories', so they carefully select their marriages to produce an offspring and force them to try and revive that long lost glory. It's why my parents had me, never mind the fact that they hate each other. And, personally, I think that people, like Alexius and his Venatori, trying to revive our ancient glory is what destroyed our country in the first place. You saw what happened in the future, so you know exactly what such feeble minded attempts will get us."_

Rajmael quirked an eyebrow curiously. _"You and your family fought because you didn't want to get married?"_

"_Shocking, isn't it? They already picked out a lovely girl, too. Livia Herathinos."_ Dorian stood as though he were recalling a lovely afternoon. _"Hourglass figure, bright as bonfire, and had the most wicked tongue. If I listened to my parents she and I would be wed in horrid matrimony, despising each other for the rest of our lives, or until she hired someone to kill me." _

"_Ah, so I see you do actually have a personality beneath all that ego."_ Rajmael laughed.

"_What can I say? I've got looks, talent am charm, and I know it."_ Dorian chuckled_. "What's that old saying, if you've got it, flaunt it."_

"_I'll let you know when we're ready to go."_ Rajmael waved.

"_Don't worry, I'll be ready."_

**~XoXoXo~**

"_Rajmael? May I have a moment?"_ Leliana called from her tent_. "What you told me about this future you saw disturbs me. If you would, I need you to tell me how this future came to pass, what you saw, and what happened to everyone there."_

Rajmael explained what he learned during his time travel. About the assassination of Empress Celene, the invasion of a demon army that ripped the South apart, and how the Breach had consumed the entire world. After what seeing what happened to her in that horrible future, seeing her die for him, he felt she deserved to know what he saw. "I watched you die for me so that I could escape back to the past, Leliana."

"_Of course I did."_ Leliana acknowledged calmly_. "One life is small when compared to saving the world."_

_"That doesn't diminish your heroism._ _I also so the Hero of Ferelden. You were, right. He was the most fearsome son of a bitch I've ever seen."_ Rajmael admitted as he remembered the raging Reaver that devoured any he stood before him with his bares hands. "_The two of you held of the demons to buy my time. His last words before charging them was…."_

"_For Ferelden?"_ Leliana finished with bitter sweetness. _"Yes, I always knew he would die with those words on his lips if he fell in battle. Aedan loves his country more than anything. To have seen it destroyed must've broken his spirit."_

"_We can still save Ferelden and the rest of the world, Leliana."_ Rajmael promised. _"None of what I saw will come to pass."_

"_I know. And that is why we cannot fail. We must seal the Breach and discover what these Venatori are planning if Thedas is to remain safe."_

"_Hopefully, without as much cannibalism."_ Rajmael hoped as he remembered all the enemies and body parts Aedan Cousland devoured.

"_Ha. Yes. I would prefer not to take Aedan's approach to save the world, if we can avoid it."_ Leliana laughed.

**~XoXoXo~**

Varric approached the Herald with an unusually serious look on his face. Rajmael knew that whatever he had to say probably wasn't going to be good.

"_Something's been bothering, Herald."_ Varric started_. "When you and Sparkler over there went to the future, you said you saw more of that red lyrium?"_

"_Saw it? It was all over the place! Growing out of the ground, the walls, out of people!"_

"_That's what I was afraid of."_ Varric looked like the kid that woke up and found out he had cancer.

"_This isn't the first time you've encountered this substance, Varric. In the Temple of Sacred Ashes you seemed familiar with it. What do you know about this red lyrium?"_

"_My brother, Bartrend, and I…discovered it." _Varric confessed bleakly. _"You know that tale of Hawke delving into the Deep Roads and coming back with long lost treasure?"_

"_One of my favorites."_

"_Well, while we were down there, we found an idol made of pure lyrium, but it was red. My brother stole it and left us in the Deep Roads to die. When I finally tracked him down, he'd already sold the idol, but not before the damned thing drove him so far over the deep end he slaughtered every member of his household because he thought it would help him hear the idol's song. Mother forgive me, I had no choice, I had to put Bartrend down."_ There was a look of deep regret painted on Varric's face as he remembered that grisly task he and Bianca did.

"_I'm sorry for your loss, Varric."_ Rajmael said sincerely. No one should ever have to kill their own kin. _"But that wasn't the end of it, was it?"_

"_Not by a long shot. Turns out the one who bought the damned idol was Knight-Commander Meredith. She turned the idol into mean-looking sword, and pretty soon she was hearing voices, seeing enemies everywhere, to the point where she was obviously nut."_ Varric continued. _"I don't know if the idol made her crazy or if it just enhanced it, but whatever it did, it made Meredith inhumanly powerful. But Hawke still managed to kick her ass, and when she drew on too much of the sword's power it shattered and turned Meredith into a statue made of red lyrium."_

"_What in the Mythal's mercy is this stuff?"_ Rajmael asked shockingly.

"_I honestly have no idea. I've got every mining and smith family I know watching out for the stuff, but so far nothing."_ Varric wiped the worried look of his face and resumed that carefree smile of his. _"But that's enough doom and gloom. You just sealed an alliance with the Rebel Mages and are going to seal the Breach soon. What're you going to do to celebrate?"_

"_Throw the largest party this side of the Frostbacks has ever seen since the end of the Blight, get drunk, get laid."_ Rajmael laughed_. "Not necessarily in that order."_

Varric busted out laughing. _"You may be an elven heretic, Lord Herald, but you're my kind of elven heretic."_

**~XoXoXo~**

Cullen was overseeing any and all last minute preparations before the journey back to the Temple. His men checked, and rechecked all weapons, supplies and necessities the mages would need to seal the Breach. Maker willing, this would be the end of this nightmare, and the world could start healing from this crisis.

"_Everything is going well, Commander Cullen?"_ asked the Herald as he walked behind the Commander.

"_The mages stand ready to close the Breach on your order, Herald."_ Cullen confirmed. _"By the Maker's grace, the mages will be able to accomplish this task."_

"_You made it adamantly clear back in the Chantry how pissed off you were about my decision to ally with the mages. Are you going you have a problem with our newest allies?"_

"_I'm not questioning their abilities, or even their intentions."_ Cullen sighed despondently. _"But the risk still remains. Any contingency plan would be for the safety of the Inquisition, as well as the mages themselves."_

"_I don't really know much about what was going on within the Circles, or their relationship with the Chantry."_ Rajmael stated_. "So, tell me commander, what really caused the mages and templars to be at each other's necks?"_

"_Where do I start?"_ Cullen returned with a heavy sigh.

"_Why don't we start with why the Circles were dissolved, and why the templars abandoned the Chantry." _

Cullen paused for a moment and thought of his explanations carefully_. "Long story short? It's because the mages were denied basic rights as sentient beings and the Templars became self-righteous in holding their leash. But one thing both factions had in common; they both grew to resent the Chantry's authority over them."_

Well that was new for Rajmael. _"Why's that?"_

"_Well, with the mages it's obvious."_ Cullen stated. _"The Chantry in its whole history has portrayed magic as dangerous at best, or as evil at worst. Denying the mages basic freedoms, to never see the light of day or even keep their own children, and only choosing to honor them after they've been used as weapons in the Chantry's wars. And to add insult to injury, they ignored the abuses that Templars inflicted on them with divine authority." _Cullen stopped for a moment and Rajmael could tell that was a painful subject.

"_If the Chantry gave the Templars so much leeway with the mages why are the Templars cutting off the hand that feeds them?"_

"_Actually, it's because that hand refused to feed them anymore."_ Cullen answered. _"You see, most Templars believe that Chantry has used us as a military extension for so long that the Grand Clerics no longer honor the sacrifices they make."_

Sacrifices? What kind of sacrifices do the Templars make that merits their crimes? _"Oh? What kind of…sacrifices do the Templars make for the Chantry?"_ Rajmael asked sardonically.

"_Plenty." _Cullen responded almost defensively. _"It's not like anyone with a sword can just waltz right up to the recruiter's office and pick up the Templars shield and cause. Templars are trained from an early age, sometimes even from infancy and selected breeding. But the reason for the Templars turning on the Chantry is for one simple reason; Lyrium. It's what empowers the mages magic and separate's Templars from all other warrior factions in Thedas."_

Well that was unexpected. _"Lyrium is poisonous to all those who aren't mages. How can Templars use it? _

Cullen continued. _"Templars train their bodies to take in the Lyrium so that they can project their will to disconnect mages from the Fade, and it prevents us from being susceptible to a demon's temptations. However, as you have said it's poisonous and addictive. Eventually Templars minds begin to erode from the overuse of Lyrium and many Templars have quaff the stuff down hourly just to keep sane and in great many cases Templars become husks no different than tranquil and The Chantry just disregards them. Now the Chantry is denouncing them and the Templars believe that they have forgotten all they have suffered for to keep the Chantry standing."_

Now that was disturbing. Rajmael almost felt sorry for the armored transvestites_. "And that's supposed to excuse them from all the harm they have inflicted in the name of the non-present deity?"_

"_Look at it like this: The Chantry was always force-feeding Lyrium to their warriors, knowing that it was poisonous and harmful and they did it just so that they could have a military arm to curb the mages whom the Grand Clerics have deemed dangerous and vile. And to top it all off they feed us that everything we do is with the blessings of Andraste. Now after nearly a thousand years of having that authority and being fed a dangerous element the Chantry strips that all from us and still expects us to follow the orders."_ Cullen stopped for a second_. "Now tell me, who seems more understanding of the Maker's will, the Templars who sacrifice life, limb, and sanity or old virgins who sing all day long and feed poison to their knights?"_

"_Hmm?"_ Rajmael thought for a moment_. "Well as a former Templar, are you going to have a problem with how I have handled the mages?"_

"_No, you faced what sounded like a terrible ordeal, and you achieved our goal."_ Cullen answered genuinely. _"In some ways, what you're doing is probably better than what the Chantry ever did."_

"_Oh? How do you figure?"_

"_The Chantry only ever treated both the Circle of Magi and the Templar Order as serfs, extensions of their own authority, but never treated truly as equals. Perhaps, by making them your allies rather than your conscripts you can find us a new path to walk, instead of the one that lead to a thousand years of resentment. Or you'll set the precedent for more wars, only time will tell."_ Cullen gave a respectful nod and resumed overseeing the preparations.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael found Cassandra arguing with an elven mage. Apparently, some of the mages were unhappy with their living quarters, they were too used to living in comfy Circle Towers and were unused to harsh living conditions, and they decided to take out their frustrations by whining at the Seeker.

"_You're our allies now, not our wards."_ Cassandra lectured_. "That means you'll have to deal with these poor conditions like the rest of us."_

"_But what are we supposed to do about it?" _The mage growled.

"_Deal. With. It."_ Cassandra growled back with a dangerous glare in her eyes. The mage lost his resolve and withdrew his complaint. Cassandra strutted back to her training dummies in a huff.

The Seeker was cute when she was annoyed, and she gets annoyed very easily, Rajmael thought to himself. _"Ah, teaching full grown men how to not act like children. You're living the dream, Seeker Cassandra."_

"_I just don't know who told them that I'm the one they should yell at."_ Cassandra protested. _"These mages are our allies now, they need to get used to what that means. This is your doing, after all. You created this alliance."_

Well, now she was making him feel lousy_. "I just got done traipsing through time and space, I didn't exactly have time to wonder about the little things."_

Suddenly Cassandra realized that she was acting no different than that mage. _"Oh. I do sound like I'm blaming you, don I? I don't disapprove, in fact, you did well. Not many could make such a critical decision during such a grave moment. And here we are now, I wish I could say that this was my doing."_

Rajmael smiled gently at Cassandra as the memory of how she stood against the demons flooded back to his mind. _"You truly are an amazing woman, you know?"_

Cassandra couldn't help but feel awkward and blush as he spoke and smiled at her thusly. _"You're being t-too kind, Rajmael. I did nothing that is truly praise-worthy."_

"_I'd be dead if it weren't for you, Cassandra."_ Rajmael confessed. _"In the future, you stood your ground against an army of demons to give me and Dorian enough time to return. And you're the one who started this Inquisition. I wouldn't be where I am now if it weren't for you, and the courage you possess."_

Cassandra felt her heart racing in her chest. Why did he talk to her this way, and why did it make her feel like this? _"Did…ahem. Did I say anything to you before the end?"_

Rajmael fondly remembered that single moment of doomed passion they shared_. "You…you told me that you had no regrets. Even when the world was ending you still followed me."_

Cassandra's heart almost stopped. Was this true, or was he just telling her what he thought she'd want hear_? "Well…good. I'm pleased to see my decision to follow you wasn't misplaced."_ Rajmael just stood there and continued to smile at her like that. _"Let us go seal the Breach. Now. Then we can see how little I regret." _

Cassandra shuffled away from Rajmael as casually as she could. The elf took the time admire The Seeker's well-formed ass as she walked away. Cassandra was cute when she was embarrassed, but he wouldn't say that to her face, he liked not having his nose broken.

There was one last thing Rajmael had to do before his sojourn back to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. He found himself a nice quiet spot and placed the small totems he carried of his gods on a small boulder. The images of Sylaise, Dirthamen, Falon'Din, Mythal and Fen'Harel, made of stone, wood and glass. Rajmael lit a candle before the totems and reached into his satchel and grabbed a handful of seeds from inside. Magic glowed gently and warmly within his hand as the seeds grew into a colorful bouquet of flowers. Rajmael gently laid the flowers down and sprinkled fragrant tree moss over them. He slid his knife against his own palm and squeezed the blood over the moss, flowers and candle. His offering to the gods was complete, hopefully this would incur their favor and they would hear his prayer.

"_Sylaise, Hearth-Keeper, protect Haven and all who dwell within as I return to place where the Beyond bleeds. Dirthamen, Keeper of Secrets, reveal to me the path I must take, and show to me the secrets I must unlock to face my hidden enemies. Mythal, goddess of justice, Mother and Destroyer, grant me your protection as I walk this path laden with trials. Falon'din, Friend of the Dead, let your halla find me and guide me to my rest, should the worst come to pass. Fen'harel, Dread Wolf and trickster, I ask thee to look away from me, and bare your fangs down upon my enemies. Las ar enasalin, ten las ar atishan."_

With his offerings and prayer complete, Rajmael gathered the others and made their way back to the Temple of Sacred Ashes, and the Breach.

**The Temple of Sacred Ashes**

The Breach crackled with power, and disrupted the natural state of the temple. Rocks floated in the air as though they were sponges in water, and the air was filled with a natural heat and acrid odor, as though they were near a volcano. The only upside to being back here was there were no longer any demons roaming about.

Rajmael stood before the Breach where he first stabilized it. The mark burned in his hand as he felt it connecting him to the massive portal to the Fade. Cassandra and Solas stood on either side of him, ready to begin, as the best of the mages stood at attention around the ruins, waiting for their signal, ready to serve.

The Seeker and the apostate turned to those they had gathered, ready to begin.

"_Mages!"_ Cassandra called, and they listened.

"_Focus you magic past the Herald!"_ Solas instructed. _"Let his will guide you!"_

Rajmael could feel the will of the mages flow through him like a river of power, strengthening his connection with the Breach. The mark crackled and burned like wild fire, the power from the Breach was almost overwhelming, but he stood strong. Rajmael lifted his hand skywards toward the Breach and a blaze of green power surged from his palm and connected to void in the sky. He could feel the foreign magic mending the massive tear in the Veil, its power blazing throughout heaven for all the world to see. The temple exploded in a blast of pure energy and sent Rajmael and all the other occupants flying off their feet. When they got up a sense of joy filled the air for the first time in the Temple since before the Conclave, as they looked up to the sky and found it clear, and unblemished. The crisis was over.

**~XoXoXo~**

That night at Haven was filled with song and revelry as everyone in the Inquisition celebrated the Herald's triumph in sealing the Breach. Researcher Minaeve and Seggrit danced around a fire with Flissa and Quartermaster Threnn. Even that stuffy Apothecary Adan allowed himself to laugh and drink heartily.

Rajmael's companion's all celebrated in their own ways together. Varric and Blackwall were in the middle of a drinking contest with involving two mugs of malt beer chased by rye whiskey. Blackwall was from some hearty stock, but Rajmael's money was on the dwarf. Iron Bull was surrounded by five tavern girls who he let take turns feeling his muscles, while they served his men drinks. Leliana allowed herself to smile and laugh with Josephine and the other Chantry sisters, while Cullen stood solemnly by himself. Solas was nowhere to be seen. Vivienne slowly sipped and savored her wine with a faint smile on her face, while Dorian used his Northern charms to brag about himself around a group of swooning lasses. And Sera…was eating a whole roasted goose, two legs of lamb, six baked potatoes, eight mugs of beer and four cherry pies. Did she have a Rift in her stomach or a tapeworm?

Rajmael stood at the top of the hill next to the Chantry, his pipe in hand, as he watched his companions' merriment while his free hand rubbed his amber amulet. It was almost like the celebrations they would have back in his clan. As he smoked, he heard the familiar footfall that could only belong to Cassandra.

"_Solas confirms that the heavens are scarred but calm. The Breach is sealed."_ Cassandra reported. _"We've lingering reports of other Rifts, and many questions remain, but this was a great victory. Word of your heroism has spread quickly. Now all that is left is to find and route out this Venatori cult."_

Rajmael chuckled as smote the flame in his pipe. "_Let's handle those worries tomorrow, Cassandra. For now, let's enjoy this victory."_ Rajmael bowed invitingly to the Seeker before him_. "Would you do me the honor of a dance, Lady Seeker?"_

Cassandra smile hesitantly, and reluctantly took his hand. Rajmael's hand gently took hers, while his other hand glided down the small of her back as she held on to him. Cassandra was nervous and he could tell. Her face was painted with a nervousness reserved for the eve of a Blight, it made her even cuter.

_Sweet Maker, I'm not good at this_, Cassandra thought to herself as Rajmael gently led her to the rhythm of the music. Cassandra could hardly bring herself to look him in the eyes. Why was this so hard? She's stared down apostates, royalty and even dragon, yet she couldn't bring herself to look at his…beautiful golden eyes.

"_So tell me, Seeker. Do you have any regrets now?"_ Rajmael asked warmly.

"_Not as much as I thought I would."_ Cassandra answered sheepishly.

As the two waltzed, Rajmael felt something in the back of his mind. Like a thought an annoying thought was buzzing its way into the back of his skull. Something was whispering to him. _"He is coming."_ Rajmael dropped to his knee as a horribly familiar burning pain shot through brain.

"_Rajmael? What's wrong?!"_ Cassandra asked frantically.

Rajmael rose from his knees and looked off into the distance_. "He is here!"_

Cassandra looked in the direction Rajmael was gazing and became assertive and drew her sword_. "What the…? We have to get to the front gates!"_

Alarm bells rung throughout he village as the mountain pass and ridges became ablaze with torchlight, and an entire army emerged from the blackness of night. The soldiers all scrambled to their posts as Cullen shouted commands.

"_Forces approaching! Man your stations!"_ Cullen ordered.

Rajmael and his companions and council members rushed to the front gates as everyone, soldier, clergymen and laborer scrambled to their positions.

"_Cullen?"_ Cassandra asked.

"_One watch guard reporting. It's a massive force, the bulk of the army is just over the mountain."_ Cullen reported.

"_What standard are they flying?"_ Josephine asked.

"_They aren't flying any."_ Cullen answered.

"_They aren't?"_ Josephine repeated.

"_Well, it's a good thing I didn't really get started on that drinking contest. I'd have hated to humiliate Blackwall right before the eve of battle."_ Varric bragged.

"_You're only saying that because if you and I really got into it, you'd be too drunk to aim that crossbow of yours."_ Blackwall retorted.

"_Drunk of sober, Bianca and I make magic happen." _Varric laughed.

"_This isn't the time for jokes, Varric!" _Cassandra growled.

"_Now, calm down, Seeker. The laughter just hides the fear. Right, Blackwall?"_

"_Right."_

The gates were sealed shut, but there was some heavy pounding going on outside of it. It was accompanied by the sudden sound of ripping flesh and death cries as something went through and cut down the assailants on the other side.

Then there was a most unexpected polite knock on the gates. _"Please let me in? I can't come in unless you open the doors."_ A meek voice called. It was the same voice that was speaking in Rajmael's mind.

"_Please let me in?"_ Dorian repeated jokingly_. "Well, when an invader's that polite you simply have to comply."_

Rajmael signaled his men to open the doors, as he and Cullen exited the village, there was one of those giant Venatori soldiers they encountered in the future wielding a massive axe and wearing a Tevinter style lock-helmet. Blood spurted in thick ropes from the massive soldier's back, and fell with a thud, revealing his killer standing behind him.

It was a scrawny young man wearing poorly sewn, patchwork clothing, and a wide brimmed hat that practically covered his deathly pale face. He held a sharp, double-edged dagger in each hand that was slick with blood.

"_I am Cole."_ The pale young m stated desperately. _"I came here to help, to warn you. Bad people are coming here to hurt you. You probably knew that already."_

"_What the fuck is going on? Who are these soldiers? How did you get into my head?!"_ Rajmael demanded.

"_The Templars have come to kill you."_ Cole answered ominously.

"_Templars!?"_ Cullen declaimed_. "Is this the Order's response for our alliance with the mages? Attacking blindly?"_

"_They are not blind." _Cole answered_. "They went to the Elder One."_ The boy looked at Rajmael from under his hat with haunting clarity in his eyes. _"You know him, and he knows you. You took his mages. Look there." _

Cole pointed to the edge of a cliff where two menacing figures watched their army descend upon their foes. One was a man in his early forties clad in glowing red armor. He had a weasel-faced head with grimy, matted hair, and disturbing smile filled with crooked teeth and sullen eyes. In his hands he held a greatsword that looked like it was forged from pure red lyrium and gave off a sickening aura, Rajmael could feel it from all the way over here.

"_Wait, that man…I know him."_ Cullen remembered_. "But that sword. It can't be. It was destroyed with Meredith!"_

The secondary figure materialized from a pillar of smoke, and it was unlike anything Rajmael could have imagined. A deathly gaunt creature of looming height, wearing dark, holy robes of an ancient time long left behind by history. Its face was almost…human, and twisted with anger and growths of blighted corruption beneath a hooded skull, with red lyrium fused to its very being. This creature seemed to be twisted amalgam of the Blight, ancient dark magic, and whatever power the vile red lyrium gave.

Rajmael somehow recognized the Elder One. Like a memory from a forgotten nightmare. What in Ghilan'nain's guidance was that thing?

"_He is very angry that you took his mages."_ Cole emphasized.

"_Cullen, we need a plan, and we need it right fucking now."_ Rajmael stated.

"_Haven is no fortress."_ Cullen answered. _"If we are to stand against that monster, we must control the battle. Get out there and hit them with all the force you can!"_ Cullen pointed over to the trebuchets. He drew his sword and turned to the mages who gathered to defend this place. "_Mages! You have sanction to engage them! That is Samson! He will not go easy, and he will not show mercy! You must respond in kind! We are the Inquisition! With The Herald! For your lives, for all of us!"_

At Cullen's order, the mages rained down fire, lightning and ice down upon the advancing army, the narrow mountain pass made them easy targets, and smashed their vanguard. But the templars were ready. Using their powers to weaken and disable mage, they were able to weaken some of the attacks launched at them, and continued with the assault.

Rajmael and his companions would hold the line, none of these wretched templars would pass them. Something was different about the templars, they weren't the same as the ones he fought back in the Hinterlands. Holy Falon'din. These, templars, all of them, were infused with red lyrium! How is this possible?

Rajmael could sense the tainted lyrium in their veins like an infection. Some of the templars had it growing so profoundly that it was cracking beneath their armor and shining through like a broken shell. And these warriors were stronger and faster than any templar he had encountered before. Was this all thanks to the red lyrium?

"_Protect the trebuchets!"_ Rajmael ordered_. "We're going to bring the whole weight of the mountain down on them!"_

"_You bastards dare where Andraste's flaming sword!?"_ Cassandra screamed as she engaged her tainted enemies. _"You will regret this heresy!"_ The enraged Seeker planted her sword into the ground took a knees as though to pray, and a wave energy erupted from her, striking down the surrounding templars as she purged the surrounding lyrium around her.

The red lyrium crumbled and disintergrated from the templars' bodies thanks to Cassandra's attack. The sudden lyrium withdrawal killed some, while others had the red ore fused to their bodies just explode and reveal the naked skeletons beneath the grotesque crystals.

"_This can't be happening."_ Rajmael heard Varric whisper beneath the heat of combat. "_I'm stone-drunk back at the Hanged Man, with Isabella spiking my drinks and picking my pockets while Hawke and Sunshine laugh at me. These templars, and especially __THAT__ guy, are all just a bad dream! Wake up, Varric. __**WAKE UP!"**_

Shooting these templar center mass did nothing, so Varric had to aim every shot, every bolt, into their red glowing noggins. Bianca's aim was perfect, but there were just too many of them, and they just kept coming. Varric wasn't going to let them get any closer. Varric reached into his coat and grabbed a fist full of his homemade land mines and threw them in front of the advancing enemy. The instant one poor sucker stepped on a single mine, his leg blew off and set off a chain reaction that made a dozen more templar explode like crystalline fireworks. _"Eat dust, nug humpers!"_

"_Now this is how to have a party!" _Iron Bull bellowed as he waded into the red templars' vanguard swining his giant axe to and fro, cleaving every tainted knight that was sorry enough to get within his range open, in half, down the middle and every other possible way Bull could swing. Some of the templars were able to evade Bull's attacks, and managed to land a few bloody strikes on the massive qunari with their sharp blades. But all they did was make the giant oxe-man mad. What was the old saying? Mess with the Bull and you get the horns? His own blood spilt, Iron Bull became drunk on a Blood Frenzy as his own pain made him attack with greater force, Rampaging like a madman as rained death and horror down on the surrounding templars.

Solas fought in the back ranks with Dorian and Vivienne as all three of them gave cover fire for their companions and as trebuchets continued to fire. Vivienne's magic was strong, but her rigid Circle training allowed her to only act as a blunt instrument, hammering against the large force attacking them, but yielding no immediate results. Dorian's magic was more practical, but more flashy, and Dorian was as flashy as they come. Tevinter styled magic was always out to prove to the world how powerful or extravagant it was, and took more time to charge with effect. It was time for a more effective approach.

"_Solas, what are you doing?"_ Vivienne asked as the apostate ceased his attacks and walked towards the approaching soldiers.

"_The smart thing to do is stay away from the men with swords, who want to kill us."_ Dorian added.

"_I fear a more efficacious method is required for these particular enemies."_ Solas stated. The elf's staff glowed with a strange green energy as he circled it over his head, then raised his arms into the air as he summoned some kind of portal over him, a tear in the Veil. Flaming meteorites rained out of the Fade and down upon the red templars like a storm and decimated the front ranks, the devastation that Solas unleashed came as a shock to everyone.

With the frontal assault disrupted, Rajmael had enough time to get the engineers to aim the trebuchet at the opposite mountainside. The giant war engine launched its projectile with great force and accuracy towards its target. Their forces all cheered when the force of the impact shook the mountain and made an avalanche slid down and crush their advancing enemy.

The cheers of victory against the enemy were soon replaced by a feeling of dread as a massive, dark figure flew and blocked the sky with a thunderous, ear splitting roar that that shook the very ground, and a gigantic ball of colored fire smashed down upon one of the trebuchet stations. The creature looked like a high dragon, only bigger.

Screams filled the air as the men burned alive and shrapnel ripped apart everyone nearby.

"_No. That can't be!"_ Blackwall denied with dread.

"_Is that an Archdemon!?"_ Dorian cried.

"_Whatever it is, it's coming back this way!"_ Sera screamed as the dragon swooped down, breathing fire down on them.

Archdemon or dragon, whichever it was, it flew over Haven with its dreadful, powerful wings breathed its colored flame down on the village. Smoke and flame burned within Haven's walls.

"_Everyone, fall back!"_ Rajmael ordered. Before he could run to back to the village walls, he had to get to the stables, he had to make sure Neirin escaped.

The forge was on fire, but smith Harrit managed to escape, but the fire was spreading to the stables. Master Dennit was able to herd most of the horses out, but he couldn't get Neirin to leave. The loyal halla refused to abandon his companion.

"_Master Dennit, get to safety!"_ Rajmael bid as he got to his halla_. "Neirin! Ma nada shiral anan!"_ The halla stubbornly stamped its hooves and shook his antlers, refusing to listen. Rajmael sternly grabbed the Halla behind the ear and led it out of the stable. The enemy was getting closer, there was no more time. _"Go! Find me again!"_ Rajmael smacked Neirin's flank and the white halla finally ran away from danger_. "Ghilan'nain, ghilana ir lethalan dar anetha."_ Rajmael prayed as he watched his beloved halla run away.

**~XoXoXo~**

The mages, the soldiers and his companions ran back to the gates of Haven and hoped the walls were sturdy enough to the enemy back.

"_Move it. Move it!"_ Cullen called as he waited for everyone to get back inside. As soon as they were all inside, Cullen shut and bolted the gate. _"We need everyone to get to the chantry, it's only building that might hold against that…beast. At this point, all we can do is make those bastards work for it."_

Rajmael heard the fires roaring as they burned the village, and the people screaming around him. He prayed to Sylaise for protection, and she didn't answer. Now he was going to have to answer his own prayer. Templars were making their way over the walls and laying siege to the village, he had to save as many people as he could_. "Everyone, break off into groups and fan out through the village, save as many people as you can. Kill any templar who gets in your way. Cullen, Cassandra, Varric you're with me!"_

Blackwall, led Solas and Vivienne. Iron Bull took Sera and Dorian. All three groups took different routes throughout the village and saved as many of their people as they could from the burning debris and crazed templars. With their rescued members in tow, they made it to the safety of the chantry where Chancellor Roderick was holding the doors for the rest of the survivors.

"_Quickly! Get inside! The Chantry is your salvation!"_ Roderick cried as he leaned against the chantry door. Rajmael realized that he was bleeding profoundly from a wound on his chest. Cole assisted the Chancellor inside and sealed the door behind him.

"_He tried to stop a templar. The blade went deep. He is going to die." _Cole said with Roderick's arm slumped over him.

"_What a charming boy."_ Roderick groaned with his usual charm.

"_Rajmael! Our position is not good."_ Cullen informed despondently_. "That dragon stole back whatever time you bought for us. They'll swarm the whole village soon."_

"_I've seen an Archdemon. I was in the Fade, but it looked exactly like that."_ Cole informed dismally.

"_It could look like lemon-pie for all I care!"_ Cullen spurned_. "All I know is that it's cut a path for that whole army. They'll kill everyone in Haven!"_

"_The Elder One doesn't care about Haven. He only wants the Herald."_ Cole revealed with attitude of a mopey child_. "But he'll kill everyone in the village simply because they're in his way. I don't like him."_

Cullen couldn't believe what this kid was saying. _"You don't like…? Herald, we have no defenses. There are tactics to make this assault survivable. The only pause in the army was that avalanche. If we can turn the last trebuchet, can bury them all in one last slide."_

"_Are you insane, Cullen?"_ Rajmael rejected. _"That'll bury everyone in the village!"_

"_We're going to die here, there's little we can do stop that." _Cullen resigned remorsefully. _"All we can do at this point is try to take as many of them with us as we can."_

Roderick shook his head dismally, to accomplish what they needed to only to be crushed by their true enemy. Then an epiphany came to his mind as he remembered something, something that he never gave much mind to until now.

Cole could see the realization on Roderick's face as he looked down the chantry hall_. "Yes. That can help."_ Cole confirmed as though he knew what Roderick was thinking_. "Chancellor Roderick has an idea. He wants to say it before he dies."_

"_There is a path. You wouldn't know it unless you made the summer pilgrimage, as I have." _Roderick revealed as he painfully tried to pick himself up. _"The people can escape. She must have shown me. Andraste must've shown me the way…to tell you."_

"_A path? What're you talking about Roderick?"_ Rajmael inquired.

"_T-ten years ago, I was one of Chantry members sent to reclaim Haven after the Hero of Ferelden discovered the Temple of Sacred Ashes. With so many dead at the Conclave, I am the only one who remembers the hidden path."_ The dying chancellor explained with a look of regret. _"If this simple memory can save us, it could be more than mere accident. You could be more than what I believed."_

Rajmael knew what he needed to do. There was no more room for guessing or contemplation_. "That dragon's after me. I'll lure it away while you led the people to safety."_

"_And when the mountain falls? What about you?" _Cullen asked.

"_I survived the Temple of Sacred Ashes."_ Rajmael answered with faux humor. _"With Andruil's blessing, my luck will hold."_

"_Your luck will be better with steel backing you up."_ Cassandra added. _"I'll make sure that it holds."_

"_Sorry, but I believe that man and a woman should be married first, before they follow each other to the grave, Cassandra."_ Rajmael said sarcastically.

"_Keeping you alive is my duty."_ Cassandra reminded_. "And you chances of surviving a dragon attack are more likely with a Pentaghast at your side."_

"_I'm coming too, Rajmael."_ Varric stated. _"I've got a bit of a personal stake in this fight. Besides I've survived more impossible odds than any dwarf in living history. Maybe my good luck can rub off on you out there."_

Solas also stepped forward to join the Herald_. "I came here to help you seal the Breach. It's only fitting that I join you to face those who opened it in the first place."_

Rajmael was humbled by the fact that those who first followed at the beginning of this Inquisition would now probably follow him into death. There was nobody else he'd rather face his final destination with.

"_Occupy the Elder One and his pet until we're above the tree line. We'll signal you when we're ready."_ Cullen hoped as he turned to the rest of his soldiers and the Herald's companions. _"Inquisition! Follow Chancellor Roderick through the chantry, our only job is to keep the people safe. Move!"_

Cole slung Roderick's arm over his shoulder once more and assisted him down the hall, but not before Roderick said one last thing to Rajmael. _"Herald…if you are meant for this, if the Inquisition is meant for this, and this is all happening for a reason, then I pray for you."_

**~XoXoXo~**

The Herald, The Seeker, The Apostate, and Varric emerged from the Chantry to find the village a smoldering ruin with the tainted red templars pillaging the ravaged buildings. Rajmael's eyes and vallaslin burned with power as Varric cocked Bianca, Cassandra cracked her knuckles, and Solas cracked a small smile. They were going to turn this village into the templars' grave.

They knew where they had to go, the last remaining trebuchet wasn't that far. They simply had to murder every red templar that stood in their way. Rajmael and Cassandra cut down every enemy in their path; Rajmael threw blades of ethereal energy from his sword that bypassed the templars armor and lascerated the flesh underneath as Cassandra purged the lyrium from the templars bodies and skewered them with her longsword.

Varric and Bianca fired shot after well aimed shot between the eyes of every sorry duster that came their way. And for those unfortunate few who got to close, Varric threw a line of Elemental Mines in front of them that exploded in a mix of fire, ice, lightning and metal shrapnel that ripped them to pieces.

With his knowledge and connection to the Fade, Solas manipulated the very Veil to attack the templars. Even they could not protect themselves as he bent the reality around them. He tapped into the Fade and manipulated the Veil into form a fist and smashed the templars out of his way. He struck the air with his staff and summoned a boulder from the Fade that flew into a group of adversaries and sent them flying, the shattered shards spread out and pierced the armor and arteries of even more templars.

They finally reached the trebuchet with only one templar standing in their path. Strange. Even with the red lyrium grafted to his body, was he truly so foolish to stand against them by himself?

"_Stop!"_ The templar called in a hollow, echoing voice. _"In the name of the Elder One, you shall not pass me."_

"_And how to you plan to stop us, shit-for-brains!? _Rajmael challenged.

The templar screamed a horrible war cry with chunks of wet red lyrium flying from underneath his visor. They heard the sound of his muscles tearing and bones cracking from underneath his armor, as his body expanded. His tunic ripped, and his armor shattered, as the red lyrium closed around his body like a chrysalis that transformed his very physiology. His transformation complete, he stood the size of an actual giant, with bits of his tattered armor hanging from his body that was no longer covered, but made out of red lyrium. His head was cocooned in his broken helmet and rested on disproportionately gigantic torso held up by two deformed legs. His lyrium-constructed arms were twice the length, his left hand was completely encased in lyrium in the shape of a giant sickle. He stood before them no longer a man, or a templar, but a Behemoth.

They all gazed at the towering abomination made of religious fanaticism and that vile red ore. How was consuming this element capable of making such monsters?

"_IS THAT THE BEST YOU CAN DO?!"_ Rajmael challenged. The titanic creature swung its scythe-like fist at the Herald, a wave of spiked lyrium speared upward as it dragged against the earth. Rajmael phased away from the attack and threw a spitfire of lightning bolts at the enemy. The barrage assault sent the things doubling back.

The Behemoth screamed as two crossbow bolts landed right into his eye sockets_. "Say hello to Bianca, you bastard!"_ Varric yelled.

Solas muttered a spell beneath his breath as a stream of frost hosed down the giant monstrosity. The pillar of cold froze the creature while cooling down the energy and intense heat of the red lyrium.

With the monster frozen by Solas' spell, Cassandra charged in close with her shield then planted her sword into the creature's disgustingly deformed legs and summoned the Wrath of Heaven. A pillar of light erupted from her sword and purged the tainted presence of the vile lyrium and blew the thing's legs off from under it.

The now legless torso of a monstrosity fell with a boom and a shrilling scream. Rajmael's shimmering shield flashed like starlight as he lunged with his sword like a lance, blazing with veilfire. The sylvanwood blade pierced through the Behemoth's crystalline epidermis and dived through the monstrosity's body and it shattered into a million, glass-pieces.

With pieces of the Behemoth scattered all over the ground, the Herald and his companions readied the loaded trebuchet and aimed it towards the mountainside. One way or another, this was the end of Haven. As they waited for the signal from Commander Cullen, they heard the familiar beating of powerful wings, followed by a powerful cry from a dragon's maw. Rajmael looked to the sky and saw the dragon diving right at them.

"_Move. Move! __**MOVE!"**_ Rajmael screamed as a colored ball of flame came hurdling straight for them. It landed, the explosion sent them flying and destroyed the trebuchet. His pointed ears were ringing worse than a hangover as he tried wake himself from the concussive blow of the explosion. He looked back to the smoldering ruins of the trebuchet. With the war engine destroyed, they had no means of bringing the mountain down on their enemy, but that was the least of Rajmael's worries right now. His biggest concern was the looming, vile figure that emerged from the destruction. It was the Elder One.

Rajmael quickly rose to his feet to meet his enemy when he felt the earth shaking behind him and found the corrupted dragon landing behind him. It stopped just far enough to cut off Rajmael's escape, and close enough for him to feel its breath.

"**ENOUGH!"** The Elder One ordered with a voice laced with power and anger.

Trapped between an unholy mage and a massive dragon, Rajmael stood his ground and held his stance against The Elder One.

"_Pretender!"_ The Elder One accused vilely. _"You mettle in forces beyond you ken! No more."_

**~XoXoXo~**

Cassandra and the other two made it the mountain pass outside of the village when she that Rajmael wasn't with them. She looked back and saw sprawled back and saw him facing down the Elder One with that dragon bearing down on him. Fear and panic gripped her heart as she turned to go back for him, but was stopped by Solas.

"_We have to save Rajmael!"_ Cassandra yelled as she tried get past the mage.

"_No! We need to make sure the rest of the Inquisition survives past this night."_ Solas argued.

"_He'll be killed!"_ Cassandra screamed, he heart aching. _"We cannot leave him!"_

"_Have faith in the Herald!"_ Solas advocated fervently. "_If we go back now, then we'll all die here."_

Cassandra took a moment regain her composure as she looked back down to the village as Rajmael stood alone_. "And what of Rajmael?"_

"_Pray that his gods stand with him."_ Solas responded as he made his way back up the path.

She knew there was nothing she could do for him. Cassandra had no choice, she had to leave, even though her heart screamed for her to go back. _O Holy Maker, watch over this man now in his moment of need._ She prayed as she retreated.

**~XoXoXo~**

"_What…What the fuck are you?"_ Rajmael demanded.

"_Something more."_ The Elder One answered with finality and revilement. _"Mortals always look to the gods to provide them answers, just as I once did. They are always left with SILENCE. But no longer. Know me. Know what you've merely pretended to be."_ The creature spoke and raised its arms as though it were speaking to a congregation. _"Exalt The Elder One! The will that is Corypheus! You will kneel."_

"_I am walker of the Lonely Path!"_ Rajmael denied. _"I will never submit!"_

"_You will resist." _Corypheus scoffed. _"You will always resist. It matters not."_ The Elder One produced a strange orb in his hand, and it somehow seemed familiar to Rajmael. _"I am here for the Anchor. The porcess of removing it starts _now." The orb blazed red and a column of red energy, the Elder One extended his large, clawed hand as it glowed with the same energy.

The mark in Rajmael's hand crackled and burned as it involuntarily raised and was pulled by whatever force Corypheus was wielding. Red energy surged forth from Corypheus' hand and connected to the Anchor in Rajmael's palm. The Herald's arm was on fire as he felt the creature's magic trying to erase the Anchor from his hand. The pain was so intense it almost sent Rajmael to his knees.

"_It is your fault 'Herald'."_ Corypheus denounced with disgust. _"You interrupted a ritual years in the planning, and instead of dying, you stole its purpose. Something no petulant elf is capable, or worthy of wielding." _The pain and energy inensified with a flick of his claw_. "I do not know how you survived, but what you claim as 'touched', what you flail at Rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens."_ Corypheus closed his fist and Rajmael was finally driven to his knees in horrible agony. He could feel the dragon circling around him, and smell its rancid breath. _"And you used the Anchor to undo my work! You, a thin-blooded descendant of slaves! The gall!"_

"_What the fuck is this thing?!"_ Rajmael demanded as he held back screaming in pain.

"_It is the tool to bring the answers mortals always seek. To answer the silence"_ The creature enlightened spitefully. _"To bring certainty where there is none. For you, the certainty that I would always come for it." _Corypheus ceased his spellbinding and grabbed Rajmael's marked arm, effortlessly raising him into the air, as though the elf weighted nothing_. "I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to service the Old Gods of the empire _in person_. I found only chaos and corruption. Dead whispers. For a thousand years I was confused. No more. I have gathered the_ will _to return under no name but my own, champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world."_ Corypheus dangled Rajmael's face in front of his own, his hollow pale eyes meeting Rajmael's golden one. _"Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the gods. And it was __empty__!"_

Breached the heavens in the name of the Old Gods? Found only corruption and chaos amidst an empty throne? A sense of hellish dread welled up inside Rajmael as he realized that his creature was in fact the enemy of all life, and a creature such as this has already brought ruin and destruction down upon the world. Amidst the fear and rage that swirled within Rajmael, he remembered the favor Aedan Cousland asked him back in that future time they met in. Rajmael hocked in his throat and spat hatefully in the Elder One's eye. _**"FUCK YOU!"**_

"_YOU DARE!?"_ The Elder One screamed as he threw the impudent half way across the yard_. "The Anchor is permanent. You have spoilt the Anchor with your meddling."_

Rajmael drew the enasalin and stood his ground.

Corypheus and his vile dragon drew closer with heavy steps. _"So be it. I will begin again, find another way to give this wretched world the empire-and god—it requires."_

Rajmael looked beyond the Elder One and his pet, and saw Cullen's safety flare flying against the night sky. Everyone was safe, but without the trebuchets he couldn't bring the mountain down on these fuckers.

Corypheus' face twisted with hate and anger_. "But you. I will not suffer even an unknowing rival, much less a stumbling elf rat, stand against me. You must die."_

An insane though stuck Rajmael's mind. There's a technique that only the ancient Arcane Warriors wielded, one that separated them from all warrior throughout history. It was time to put the legend to the test.

"_Hey, asshole! Is that your pet, or your fuck-buddy!?"_ Rajmael laughed as he sheathed his sword. _"Why don't you try letting your bitch do your dirty work for you, since everything else you've tried to do has worked out so well thus far?! Ah-haha-ha!"_

"_You DARE!?"_ Corypheus raised his hand, and the dragon reared back its massive head on serpentine neck for an attack.

This was the moment of truth, all his faith to this. The dragon spat a massive ball of tainted flame from its maw. Time slowed to a crawl as the burning sphere of flame bared down on the Herald. He could feel the inferno burning his skin, just like the witches pyre he burned on as a child. And in that same instant, Rajmael energized his Shimmering Shield, drew his sword.

"_**ENASALIN!"**_ Rajmael's war cry rang throughout the Frostbacks once more as he deflected the dragon's burning projectile towards the mountain side. The mountains rumbled and shook as a tidal wave of snow and rocks cascaded down on Haven.

The Elder One and his pet gazed upon the oncoming destruction while Rajmael made a break for it. Seeing there was that the mountain would finish his rival, Corypheus climbed his dragon and flew away from Haven. Rajmael could feel the avalanche getting closer as it shook the ground. Where were the Creators when he needed him?!

Then Dirthamen smiled at him from the corner of his eye. Rajmael saw a nearby precipice and remembered Cassandra mentioning that there were tunnels all over this mountain. As the avalanche swallowed the valley, Rajmael took a leap of faith and dived into the hole and into the darkness below.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael fell down the dark chasm and landed in some tunnel further down the mountainside. With no other option available, he navigated his way out and found himself outside in the lower valleys. He had to find the others.

Rajmael walked out into the snow and towards the direction he remembered the flare flew from. A snow storm picked up, the clouds blocked out the moonlight, but his elven night vision helped him. The further he walked in this unforgiving cold, the more he could feel the effects of his battle wearing down on him. He was sore, tired, defeated. He couldn't go any further and collapsed down in to bitter white snow.

Rajmael could hear the wolves rustling through the tree line, but he was too beaten to even attempt to get away. Too tired to move, and all his mana spent with the wolves watching him, Rajmael knew he was about to die. Perhaps the Dread Wolf had finally come to claim his soul. Suddenly, he heard the wolves run away and slink off back into the forest, as a halla white as snow trotted towards him. Falon'din, Friend of the Dead and Dirthamen's twin brother, had sent his messenger to bring Rajmael to the Beyond.

"_Ma ghilana mir din'an."_ Rajmael whispered as he reached out to the halla.

Another figure appeared out into the snow and drove the wolves away as Rajmael's vision began to fade. A figure so beautiful and strong, that it could only be the goddess Andruil. She came close, torch in hand, as Rajmael reached out to her_. "My goddess arrives."_

Then his world faded completely into blackness.

**Language Codex:**

** Las ar enasalin, ten las ar atishan: **Elven. Roughly translated, _"Grant me victory, or grant me peace"._

**Ma nada shiral anan: **Elven. Roughly translated,_ "You must leave from this place"._

**Ghilan'nain, ghilana ir lethalan dar anetha: **Prayer, elven. Roughly translated, _"Ghilan'nain, guide my friend to safety"._

**Ma ghilana mir din'an: **Elven. Roughly translated, _"Guide me to my death"._

**Enasalin:** Elven. Literally, _"Victory"._


	10. Where Heroes Meet

**Where Heroes Meet**

Even after Haven had just been buried by the mountains, the smoke and echoes of their screams still hung in the air. Those who were able to survive the Elder One's assault managed to follow Chancellor Roderick's path out of the Chantry and found themselves in a hidden valley between the mountains, well away from the Red Templars. Despite surviving such terrible odds, the truth of their situation crippled their spirits. Their most righteous victory turned into the devastating defeat possible. Defeat at the hands of the ultimate evil.

Cassandra and some of Leliana's agents stayed behind long enough to see and hear what transpired between The Elder One and The Herald. Word had already spread throughout the whole Inquisition. The Herald of Andraste had been defeated by one of the Magisters of Old who assaulted the Seat of The Maker, and started the Blights. Their mission just became more hopeless. They were no longer looking into some cult of crazed Tevinters who destroyed the Conclave to make a statement, they were now facing the embodiment of everything evil and destructive.

Cassandra sat away by herself as he fellows tended to their own. She remembered Varric telling her the story of how he and Hawke journeyed to that Grey Warden prison in the Vimmark Mountains. About how a group of insane Carta members that drank darkspawn blood wanted to use Hawke's blood to free their imprisoned master, who made them offers of power through their taint. How Hawke stood against this vile creature and slew it in the heart of its own prison after a thousand years, even when the Wardens were unable to slay it. Given Varric's proven and self-proclaimed reputation as a liar, Cassandra always took the dwarf's word with a pinch of salt, and always never believing half of what he said.

As the Seeker sat alone, she couldn't help but think about how she abandoned Rajmael. She had appointed herself to protect him, and she failed, just like she failed Divine Justinia. The whole state of the world reflected her failure. Cassandra remembered how Rajmael stood strong against everything that was against him. First against her when she wanted to execute him as a criminal, then again in that horrible future where the whole world was polluted by demons, and that final time when he stood his ground against Corypheus. Not once did he back down, he never accepted anything less than what he could give. Cassandra wished she had Rajmael's strength.

Surprised yelling erupted in the camp as the survivors made a path for something charging through them. It was Rajmael's halla, Neirin. The white stag-creature shocked Cassandra as it stopped in front of her, stamping its hooves and snorting at her.

"_What?! What is this?"_ Cassandra asked incredulously. Neirin gently, but frantically, nipped at her as though he was trying to pull her somewhere. _"Are you…trying to show me something?"_ Neirin stomped his hooves in confirmation and trotted off towards the forest, urging her to follow him. Cassandra signaled Cullen and Leliana to follow her as they trailed after the halla.

Neirin led them to a meadow within one of the passes that didn't have the protection of the mountainside and was suffering from the snowstorm. The wolves were emerging from the tree forest, but Neirin didn't seem to care, he just ran further into valley, completely ignoring the danger. Cassandra and the others had to scare the wolves off with their torches, but she managed to catch up with Neirin.

Cassandra's heart leapt into her throat when she saw Neirin standing over Rajmael. He was laying down in the snow, and she could feel that the mana in his veins was almost depleted. Rajmael reached out to her even though he looked like he was about to blackout.

"_My goddess comes."_ He whispered happily.

Cassandra felt seven shades of crimson burn over her face but ignored it, she had to get Rajmael to a healer. Surely he must be hallucinating. Cassandra and Cullen slung Rajmael over Neirin's side and got him back to their camp.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael had half-hoped that he'd woken up in the Beyond to be greeted by one of his gods, and spend the rest of eternity living out the truth of elvhen glory with his ancestors. Imagine his disappointment to only wake up to the delightful sound of his Council Members arguing amongst themselves in a makeshift camp somewhere in the Frostback Mountain's ass-crack.

Apparently, they couldn't come to an agreement about The Inquisition's next move. With their morale broken, many of their soldiers and laborers wanted to leave, and Cullen couldn't blame them. Cassandra on the other hand, wanted them to stand by their vows and continue on.

"_And what would you have me tell them? This isn't what we asked them to do!"_ Cullen yelled.

"_We cannot simply ignore this!"_ Cassandra argued. _"We must find a way!"_

"_And who put you in charge? We need a consensus, or we have nothing!"_ Cullen disputed.

"_Please! We must use reason."_ Josephine insisted. _"Without the infrastructure of the Inquisition we are hobbled."_

"_Well, it can't come from nowhere!"_ Cullen continued.

"_She didn't say it could!"_ Leliana interjected.

"_Enough!"_ Cassandra screamed, bringing everyone to silence. _"This argument gets us nowhere."_

"_Well, we're agreed on that much!" _Cullen finished.

They all walked away with depression and anger heavy in their hearts. Suddenly being dead didn't seem so bad to Rajmael. At least then he wouldn't be suffering such a headache right now, or have to deal with a pain in the ass like Corypheus is probably going to be. Despite how much pain he was in, Rajmael decided it was time to get up before things started coming to blows.

"_Shhh. You must rest."_ Mother Giselle gently bade.

"_They've been going at it for hours."_ Rajmael observed.

"_They have that luxury, thanks to you. The enemy could not follow, and with time to doubt, they turn to blame. Infighting may threaten us as much as this Corypheus." _The Chantry Mother said with deep sadness in her voice.

"_Where are we?"_ Rajmael groaned_. "What happened to Corypheus and his army?"_

"_We do not know where we are, which may be as much of a blessing as it is a threat to us, as he may not believe us worth following. Or that with the belief that you are dead, he thinks us helpless. Or perhaps he is merely readying for another attack."_

Rajmael slowly lifted himself up, feeling every muscle in his body scream in agony at him. _"Standing around in the wilderness doesn't help us, it only makes us a target."_

"_They know that, but our situation—your situation—is complicated. Our leaders argue because of what we survivors saw. We witnessed our defenders stand against our enemy…and fall."_ Giselle looked at Rajmael with resolve in her eyes_. "And then we witnessed your return. The more the enemy seems beyond us, the more miraculous your actions appear. And the more our trials seem ordained."_ Rajmael finally sat himself up. _"That is hard to accept, no? What 'we' have been called to endure? What 'we', perhaps, must be called to believe."_

"_You humans really believe in anything that has your god's label on it, don't you_?" Rajmael asked wryly_. "I fell into a hole and escaped the avalanche, but I didn't die. Though, right now I wish I did."_

"_Of course, and it's impossible for the dead to return from beyond the Veil. Still, the people know what they have witnessed. Or, perhaps, what they needed to see. The Maker works both in the moment, and how it is remembered. Can we truly know the heavens are not with us?"_

Rajmael's mind raced back to what he saw in Corypheus and what he told him. It completely changed everything they knew about history_. "You heard what Corypheus said? If he is one of the Magisters who started the Blight, it completely overturns everything you say about your Maker, your faith." _

"_Even if a shred of it is true, it all the more proof that Andraste has chosen you to stand against him."_

"_He said that he found only corruption and chaos."_ Rajmael informed sourly_. "Nothing Golden. Looks like your Maker wasn't fond of house cleaning."_

"_If he entered that place, it has changed him from without and within. The living are not meant to make such a journey."_ Mother Giselle answered calmly, her demeanor unchanged. _"Perhaps these are lies that he must tell himself because he cannot accept the fact that he earned the Maker's scorn. I know I could not bear something so horrible."_

"_I get my ass kicked and hear what sounds like truth from the mouth of evil, and from you, all I hear is excuses for your god's fuck-up."_ Rajmael stated bitterly_. "It seems all your god has ever given this world is pain, suffering, and death. What good does your faith do me, or anyone else, now?!"_

Rajmael stood up from the cot and approached the advisors hoping to see if he could assist but then he realized he didn't have any hope to give. He was just as lost as they were, if not more so.

_Shadows Fall and hope has fled. _

_Steel your heart, the dawn will come._

Sang Mother Giselle in a strong and comforting voice that resonated through the mountains. She approached the center of the camp and all eyes turned to her and in that moment all the refugees of Haven, mage and none mage, faithful and unfaithful put their woes and despair aside.

_Look to the sky, for one day soon _

_The dawn will come_

_The Shepard's lost and his home is far keep to the stars, _

_The dawn will come _

_The night is long and the path is dark look to the sky for one day soon _

_The dawn will come_

And now Leliana and Cullen joined their sweet and strong voices to the Chantry Mother's and all of the people that encompassed the Inquisition joined into the center of the camp and sang this song together. No doubt it could be heard all throughout the mountains for Fereldan and Orlais to hear. Rajmael thought their attention was situated on Mother Giselle but then he realized that they were all staring at him, no they were singing _to_ him.

_Bare your blade and raise it high _

_Stand your ground, the dawn will come_

_The night is long and the path is dark_

_Look to the sky for one day soon _

_The dawn will come_

Now with the song ended all of these people were kneeling before him. Him. A Dalish heathen that cared nothing for their god, yet they looked at him not with exultance or religious favor, but with hope. They all placed their hopes on him.

"_It's not faith in any deity or religious dictum that brought us all here."_ Mother Giselle explained to Rajmael. "I do not ask you to have faith in the Chantry or the Maker, but please, have faith in us as we have faith in you."

Everyone gathered to cheer for their returned savior, and Rajmael could feel their renewed morale resonating through the camp, but he remained as silent as stone. Rajmael could feel Solas' presence as he approached him with a sense of urgency in his step.

"_Lethallin, I must speak with you."_ Solas requested.

The two elven mages walked away from the camp towards the edge of a mountain gorge where Solas lit a veilfire torch. Solas was standing with more seriousness than was normal for him, but given what had just transpired in the last few hours, Rajmael was not surprised.

"_Mother Giselle speaks wisely, lethallin. Her faith is well placed."_ Solas started_. "The humans have not raised one of our own for ages beyond memory."_

"_I can recall a few."_ Rajmael stated as he remembered Garahel, the elven Warden who defeated the Fourth Blight, last of the Griffon Riders_. "Human memories are fickle, and quick to forget for favor of their own prejudices."_

"_True. And what I'm about to tell you will not win our kind any favors."_ Solas stated grimly_. "The Orb Corypheus carries, the one he used to open the Breach. Unlocking its power must be what caused the explosion that destroyed the Conclave. And it is Elvhen."_

That bit of revelation hit Rajmael like a club. _"An elven artifact? Are you certain of this, hahren?"_

"_Without a doubt."_ Solas answered_. "The orbs were foci, meant to channel energy from our gods. Some were dedicated to specific members of our pantheon. I saw these object in the faintest of memories within the Fade, whispers and echoes of a dead empire, long before the fall of Arlathan. I never would have suspected a Tevinter Magister to be able to wield such a powerful object. But the Tevinter Imperium was built on the bones of our shattered people."_

"_And which of our gods could this orb have been dedicated to that it could cause such devastation?"_

A faint but sour grimace appeared around the corners of Solas' mouth. _"That…is unimportant. What is important is that the orb is elven. And with it, our enemy threatens the heart of human faith."_

Rajmael knew all too well how fickle, pretentious and presumptuous humans are as a whole. This could turn very badly for elves everywhere. Already his own clan was experiencing difficulty back in the Free Marches with bandits attacking them outside of Wycome. He had sent their soldiers to deal with it, but he knew that wasn't the end of Clan Lavellan's troubles. _"Even if we defeat Corypheus, the humans will find a way to blame the elves, I suspect they'll even go as far as to say that we aided him."_

"_And I suspect that you are correct."_ Solas confirmed. _"To be seen as allies we must be seen as above reproach."_

"_Four hundred years ago, Garahel, an elf from the Free Marches, slew Andoral at Ayesleigh, so many darkspawn were slain under his command that everyone thought the darkspawn were gone for good. And after that, nobody gave two shits about the elves, nothing changed." _Rajmael reminded grimly.

"_Human memories are always quick to forget so that they may continue with their own illusions, I know."_ Solas confirmed_. "But this Inquisition is shaping around you, and perhaps you can lead them to a path that will help our people. These people are now looking to you, you must show them the way."_

"_What do you have in mind, harhen?"_

"_By attacking the Inquisition, Corypheus has changed it. Changed you. Scout to the north, be their guide." Solas instructed. "There is a place where the Inquisition can build…grow."_

"_And just what am I looking for, Solas?"_ Rajmael asked both confused and eagerly.

"_You'll know it when you see it."_ Solas answered. _"You should be able to find it within two days. It is known as Skyhold."_

**Three Days Later….**

At last, their pilgrimage was at an end. After two days of wandering the forests and mountains with renewed hope they found it. Skyhold. A mighty fortress built atop of a great cliff. Rajmael led all the people to the great keep as if he knew where it was, but one thought just popped into his mind after seeing such a powerful building; what the hell is something as mighty as this just sitting in the middle of the mountains?

When they all saw it everybody took a moment to look upon it in awe. According to Solas the place had been deserted for almost four centuries, yet Rajmael was amazed that this keep was still so strong even in its state of disrepair. This castle was unlike any they had seen before. Redcliffe castle seemed like a modest holdfast in comparison. It sat on a high lofty crag and the only way to get its main gate was to cross a long stone bridge that's entrance was guarded by a tall and strong battle tower. Guarding the main keep and courtyard was an incredibly tall and near impregnable wall that curtained around the main keep, and was set with powerful battlements on all sides.

And the main keep itself was mighty sight to behold. Rajmael had never seen castles before, and Redcliffe Castle was the first, but only ever saw it from afar, and when he was inside it he didn't have time to enjoy its vast splendors. He had no idea humans were capable of building such powerful strongholds, if it was indeed built by humans. Tall stairs lead to the main hall which was in disrepair with its roof fallen through, but the walls showed very little of erosion. Rajmael was further surprised was how green and fertile the courtyard was on top of a great stone mountain in the middle of a wide gorge no less. The great powerful walls must have acted as barriers that kept wind and the cold, but Rajmael could feel the glimmer of magic within the fortress itself, which was perhaps why it was so warm and fertile hear.

With all these people just pouring into Skyhold it wasn't going to in such a state for long. Not only were the refugees of Haven swelling the courtyards but also pilgrims who wanted to pledge themselves to Andraste's Herald, and volunteers from Fereldan and Orlais who wanted to fight and serve the Inquisition since it was the only institute that seemed to be fixing the world's problems.

As Rajmael walked through the lower courtyard at the entrance of Skyhold, he observed the multitude of people making their way through the gate and setting up within the stronghold. Amongst the growing number of people, he noticed Cassandra and his other counselors talking amongst themselves, but rather than arguing as they had been for days, it seemed they reached some kind of consensus. As Rajmael approached them, they broke off from their little meeting and left Cassandra to address him.

"_They arrive daily from every settlement within the region. Skyhold is becoming a pilgrimage."_ Cassandra stated as she observed all the people within the keep. The Seeker motioned Rajmael to follow her up the stairs to the main hall. "If word has reached these people, then it has also reached the Elder One. We now have the walls and numbers necessary to put up a fight here, but this war is beyond anything we anticipated. But we now know what allowed you to stand against Corypheus, what drew him to you."

Rajmael didn't exactly like where this might lead. _"This isn't more nonsense about me being chosen by Andraste, is it?"_ he groaned.

Cassandra sighed wearily. _"I will not ask you to believe, that is not why you are here. Your decisions allowed us to heal the sky, your determination saved us back in Haven. You are the creature's rival because of who you are. And we now know it. All of us."_

They reached towards the top of the steps overlooking the courtyard, just below the entrance into the main hall.

"_The Inquisition requires a leader: the one who has already been leading us."_ Cassandra continued as Leliana approached them and ceremoniously held a sword with a horned dragon twisting around the hilt and the blade coming out of its maw. Leliana held the weapon out to Rajmael, bowing her head in respect. _"You are the one we must follow."_ Cassandra finished.

This newest revelation almost knocked Rajmael off his feet as he looked at the Sword of The Inquisitor, and then down at the crowd of various people of all races looking up to him with hope from the courtyard. And his companions all stood down there with them, all with expectant looks on their face.

"_Y-you're offering this to an elf, and a mage?"_ Rajmael asked apprehensively, he was so nervous his heart felt like it was going to explode inside his chest.

"_I would be terrified handing this kind of power to anyone."_ Cassandra answered truthfully_. "But I believe that it is the only way."_

"_But…I'm not even an Andrastian!"_ Rajmael insisted_. "I'm an elf of the Dalish Clans."_

"_I know elves and Andrastian faith have had a sad history together."_ Cassandra sighed. _"But without you, there is no Inquisition. We must all accept that. But what it means to you, how you lead us, is entirely up to you."_

Rajmael grasped the sword from Sister Nightingale and held it in front of him. He gazed out his own vallaslin within the reflection of the blade, and realized what he must do. _"I…will lead the Inquisition, and I will be the bridge for my people, and our faith. The Inquisition stands for all Thedas and its peoples." _

"_Wherever you lead us, I will follow."_ Cassandra looked down to Josephine amongst the crowd of people_. "Have the people been told?"_

"_They have!"_ Josephine beamed.

Cassandra looked to Cullen down below_. "Commander! Will the people follow?"_

Cullen turned to the people who now stood amongst him. _"Inquisition! Will you follow!?"_

The pilgrims yelled their devotion.

"_Will you fight?!"_

The recruits raised their fists and yelled their courage.

"_Will we triumph!?"_

The Inquisition raised the arms and their cries of victory echoed through the Frostbacks.

Cullen drew his sword and saluted it to Rajmael. _"Your leader! Your Herald! Your Inquisitor!"_

Rajmael raised his sword on high for all the Inquisition to see, and felt their cries of praise and determination raise his spirit higher than anything he thought possible. Even Lady Josephine gave and a spirited cry, but quickly recomposed herself with a faint blush when she realized how unladylike that was.

Rajmael and his War Council moved to the inner keep, and saw that it was an aged, messy ruin filled with cold mountain air and bird shit.

"_So this is where it begins."_ Cullen stated as he observed the shabby accommodations.

"_It began in the courtyard."_ Leliana remarked. _"This is where we turn our promise into a reality."_

"_But what do we do?"_ Josephine asked concernedly. _"We know nothing of this Corypheus, save that he wanted your mark. And what of that dragon of his? Could it truly be an Archdemon?"_

"_If it were, you'd think we'd be suffereing a Blight right now."_ Cullen answered.

"_I was in Denerim when Aedan Cousland slew the Archdemon on the top of Fort Drakon."_ Leliana reminded austerely. _"That creature is a beast of incredible power no doubt, but I do not believe it is an Archdemon."_

"_And there's also the fact Corypheus claims to be one of the Magisters who started the Blights."_ Rajmael reminded. He looked at the empowered Anchor. Its presence on his hand was more profound ever since Corypheys tried to remove it. The Inquisitor turned to his councilors with zeal in his eyes. _"Both the Venatori and the Red Templars must be moving vast amounts of supplies, money, and resources to fund their operations. Leliana, get whatever agents you can spare and smugglers who owe us, and have them observe and report any vast or strange amounts of resources going to unknown, or suspicious parties."_

"_It will be done."_ Sister Nightingale confirmed.

"_Cullen, I want Inquisition recruiters in every village, every inn and outpost from the Amaranthine Ocean to the Hissing Wastes. We have to rebuild and expand the numbers we lost at Haven."_

"_I'll get right on it."_ Cullen nodded.

"_Josephine, I want you to call in any and all favors that from the Fereldan and Orlesian nobility. Get us the resources we need to get this operation up and running."_

"_Understood."_ Josephine confirmed as she wrote it down on her clipboard.

"_We must discover who are enemy truly is."_ Rajmael stated authoritatively_. "Someone out there must know who or what he is."_

"_Unless they saw him out in the field, no one will even believe he exists."_ Cullen said somberly.

"_But we do have one advantage: we know what Corypheus intends to do next."_ Leliana reminded. _"In that dark future you traveled to, you said Empress Celene had been assassinated."_

"_Imagine the chaos her death would create."_ Josephine said disbelievingly_. "With his army…."_

"_A massive army bolstered and led by demons that will sweep through the South like a plague, according to the future."_ Cullen recalled fatalistically.

"_Corypheus could conquer half of Thedas if this succeeds, god or no god." _Josephine said abashed.

Leliana sighed wearilly_. "It would be better if we knew what we are dealing with, sadly I know no such person."_

"_Ahem, I know someone who could help with that."_ Varric coughed as he approached with a rather nervous look on his face. _"Um, everyone acting all…inspirational and heroic, it, uh, jogged my unreliable memory a bit, and I, er, contacted an old friend. He's crossed paths with Corypheus before, and may know a bit about our Blighted, Tevinter, god-like adversary. He can help."_

This was interesting. Right now Rajmael could use all the help he could get_. "Who is it, and how do they know about Corypheus?"_

That nervous look of Varric's became more severe. _"Uh, parading around in public might cause a…scene. It'll probably be best to meet privately, on the battlements. Away from everyone else, and within screaming distance should anything happen."_

Leliana and Josephine exchanged a suspecting look as Varric vacated the hall with an unusually guilty look.

"_Well, that's not ominous at all."_ Rajmael sighed sarcastically.

"_We stand ready to move on both of these concerns."_ Lady Montilyet stated as she scanned over her clipboard with her quill.

"_On your order, Inquisitor."_ Cullen acknowledged dutifully.

"_I know one thing: if Varric has brought who I think he has, Cassandra's going to kill him."_ Leliana shook her head with a very sympathetic look on her face.

"_Really?"_

"_With her bare hands."_ Leliana finished blithely.

**~XoXoXo~**

As Rajmael made his way over to the battlements where Varric and his mysterious friend were, Cassandra met him at the bottom of the stairs with that signature scowl on her face. Before he could pass her, she grabbed his arm in her vicelike grip. _"Have you met this friend of Varric's yet?"_

Cassandra's sword hand was actually really strong. _"No, I was just on my way to meet with them both."_

"_It had better not be who I think it is, or I'll ring that lying bastard's neck."_ Cassandra gritted through her teeth, tightening her grip with every word.

The Seeker's grip was actually cutting off the circulation to the Inquisitor's lower arm. Whoever this might be, it pissed her off more than usual. _"Who do you think it is?"_ Rajmael asked as he gently pried Cassandra's finger's off his already bruised arm.

"_Someone this Inquisition, indeed, all of Thedas, could have used from the very beginning."_ Cassandra sighed and regained her composure, and removed her arm. _"I will…reserve judgement for the moment. I don't need to give Varric more ammunition against me."_

Rajmael quickly made his way up the stairs, rubbing the new sore spot Cassandra left on his arm. He almost felt sorry for the poor sap who raised that woman's ire. When he made it to the top of the barricades, Varric was in the middle of quaffing down a bottle of beer.

Varric finished his beer and wiped his mouth his sleeve, and belched loudly.

From the other side of the battlements approached a tall man, broad-shouldered and powerfully built, wearing high-quality armor, black and pointed of Free Marchers design, with a red sash embroidered with twin eagles in flight draped across his chest. Rajmael took a moment to inspect the man's face, he was a man in his middle years, and he had a mane of thick black hair that almost shined blue in the sun and a well-trimmed, triangular cut beard shaved close to his jaws, chin and lips. For some reason he had a blood smear going across his broad and strong face and his eyes were deep blue, full of experience, but also humility.

He was armed with two swords; the first was a bejeweled great sword slung across his back made of highest quality black steel and Rajmael could tell that, like his armor, it had been given many powerful enchantments. It was the Celebrant, sword of The Champions of the Free Marches. His second sword was strapped to his hip was very strange, well not as strange as it was…grotesque. It seemed like a poorly mangled piece of iron that some smith made to pretend was a sword. It had strips of copperish metal bands wrapped around the guard and handle, and, unlike most swords, this thing's blade didn't end in a fine point, but in a deep, scythe-like curve. Despite its crude appearance, this thing could probably rip through shields and knock off heads like they were nothing. Rajmael could sense great power emanating from sword, not enchantment though. Blood magic, perhaps?

"_Inquisitor Rajmael Lavellan, meet Garret Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall."_ Varric introduced proudly.

"_Although, I don't use that title much anymore."_ Hawke stated in strong but gentle voice.

"_It's an honor to finally make your acquaintance."_ While Rajmael maintained a look of neutrality on his face, he was actually about to jump out of his skin. Garret Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall, one of his favorite heroes, was actually talking to him! He had to get his autograph before this was over.

"_I heard what Corypheus did to Haven. You have my sympathies."_ Hawke said sadly as he leaned against the barricade wall overlooking the people down in the courtyard. _"The people here are looking up to you, Inquisitor, and from what Varric's been telling me about you, I don't doubt you'll do them proud."_

Rajmael rubbed his forehead and sighed wearily. _"I never wanted any of this. I thought that once the Breach was closed, they would no longer need me, then I could finally go home."_

Hawke laughed sadly. _"I know the feeling. When I arrived in Kirkwall, all I wanted to do was look after my family and friends. Then I had to start looking after the city, then defending the city from outside and inside influences. It seemed the longer I stayed, the worse things got. And the more I acted, the more others acted against me. Despite everything I did, I lost almost everything to that fucking city."_

"_You seem to be the expert on this. Got any advice for a newbie?"_ Rajmael asked half-jokingly.

"_Keep your sword close, and your friends closer. Sometimes they're all you can depend on."_ Hawke answered sincerely_. "And never, ever, go against your principals. Once you start compromising your conscience, everything you do will be called into question, and Inquisition cannot afford that."_

"_There's one thing I'm curious about, Hawke."_ Rajmael stated. _"Why didn't you kill Anders?"_

It was actually relieving to know that a figure as legendary as Garret Hawke was more than just what his reputation exaggerated. When Rajmael saw Aedan Cousland he saw no embellishments to his status as a force of destruction. But The Champion? It was good to know that he was still only human.

Hawke's face scowled bitterly at the mention of that name. _"Because death was too good for him. Dead, he'd be a martyr for what he thought was a cause. Alive, he'll be hunted and hated by mages and nonmages alike, and the only ones who'd ever accept him are the kind of mages he hates. If we all have to suffer for what he did, then so must he."_

_"You felt that his crimes deserved punishment. Especially after he had betrayed you." _Rajmael stated.

_"It was far more than just that." _Hawke said somberly. _"Anders didn't just betray me. He betrayed himself. All the talk about mages being the victims, using magic responsibly, and all that hatred for injustice and hypocrisy, then he went and became what he proclaimed to despised. He turned his back on every good deed, every act of compassion to willingly become the catalyst for a war that no one was prepared for. If the rest of us have to live in a world of constant war and strife, the he has to, as well. Hated and alone. Please, can we change the subject?"_

"_What can you tell me about Corypheus?"_ Rajmael finally asked.

Hawke exhaled a forlorn breath. _"A year before my mother's death, members of the Carta made several assassination attempts on me in my home, and on my sister, Bethany, in the Circle. Varric and I tracked the Carta to an ancient Grey Warden fortress hidden in the Vimmark Mountains, where they were worshiping Corypheus. The Grey Wardens created a prison specifically to hold Corypheus, and he somehow used his connection to Blight to control the Carta and members of the Grey Wardens."_ Hawke unsheathed and showed off the surreal sword, which emulated a sickening aura. _"This was the key the Wardens used to lock the seals holding Coryphues, and more than thirty years ago, they used my father's blood to strengthen the seal. They wanted to use my blood to release the damned thing."_

"_Varric said you fought with Corypheus before."_

"_Fought and killed."_ Hawke answered fervently. _"I didn't just_ think_ he was dead. I cut his head off and had Anders burn his body until there was nothing left. I wasn't going to leave anything to chance with that monster."_

"_Then what happened? The bastard that kicked my ass back in Haven looked pretty damned alive to me."_

"_I honestly don't know."_ The Champion sighed sadly. _"It's funny, really. I went into that Maker-forsaken pit to stop that creature, only to be the one who released him into the world. The Maker has a sick sense of irony."_

"_Is there anything useful you can tell about how to deal with this monster?"_

"_I didn't come here just to deliver bad news."_ Hawke said with zeal. _"I had a contact of mine the Warden, a man name of Stroud, do some research on Corypheus. He disappeared some time ago, and then I began to notice the Wardens were acting strangely."_

Now that was something to be worried about. _"You said that Corypheus controlled the Carta and Grey Wardens through the Blight. Is it possible he's manipulating them now?"_

"_That's what I've been led to believe."_ Hawke answered_. "A few months ago Stroud resurfaced and sent me a message saying the Grey Wardens were now hunting him. He told me that he may have answers to what Corypheus is planning."_

"_Alright, that sounds promising. Do you intend to rendezvous with him?"_

"_After he sent me the message, Stroud went back underground."_ Hawke replied. _"He told me to meet him at an old smuggler's cave in Crestwood, but with the Wardens hunting him, he will not be as forthcoming as we'd like. He's had to evade through northern Orlais, and through the Free Marches."_

"_The Wardens are some of the best tacticians, warriors and mages in all of Thedas."_ Rajmael stated despondently. _"If they've joined up with Corypheus, then we could all be in some very deep shit."_

"_I know, but the Warden's aren't the only threat Corypheus wields."_ Hawke reminded. _"Soon I'll head back out there, and I'll feed you information on what I learn about Corypheus and his Venatori through Varric's network of contacts."_

"_Varric, how well does your…?"_ Rajmael turned to where he thought Varric was still drinking his beer and found the storyteller was missing. Where'd he go? Rajmael looked down at the courtyard and saw Cassandra wasn't where she was last either. Rajmael suddenly had a bad feeling about what was probably happening.

Rajmael urgently motioned Hawke to follow him and the two of them made their way down the battlements. _"Excuse me, did you see where Varric went?"_ Rajmael asked a nearby Chantry Sister.

"_Oh. I thought I heard him say he was headed to the War Room."_ The Sister answered. _"Seeker Pentaghast was following him. Looked like she really wanted a word with him."_

The Champion and The Inquisitor exchanged a look of utter dread, and the two ran over to the War Room. There was only one kind of conversation Cassandra could have with Varric, and it usually involved stabbing something of his.

**~XoXoXo~**

They made their way into the War Room and from the sound of things the dwarf and the Seeker were already in the middle of a scuffle.

"_**YOU KNEW WHERE HAWKE WAS ALL ALONG!"**_ The Nevarran royal roared from behind the door.

"_You're damned right I did!"_ Varric spat as he struggled against Cassandra.

Hawke and Garret came through the door, followed by a concerned Leliana, Cullen and Josephine. Cassandra and Varric were too preoccupied in their struggle to notice their audience.

"_Hawke would've been at the Conclave! If anyone could've saved Most Holy, it would've been him!"_ Cassandra yelled with angry tears verging on her eyes. _"But you kept him from us!"_

"_Right, because the Chantry has been so famous for its honesty and integrity lately."_ Varric sneered. _"After kidnapping and interrogating me, you thought I'd just sell my friend out to you?!" _

"_You conniving little shit!"_ Cassandra snarled as she grabbed Varric by his vest and slammed him against the war table. She was so intent on ringing Varric's neck, she didn't noticed a pissed off Hawke coming right behind her.

The Champion grabbed Cassandra by her tunic and threw her up against the wall, knocking the wind out of her. She stood herself back up, but before she could do anything else, Hawke drew the Celebrant and pointed its tip at her throat. Cullen instinctively went to his comrade's aid, but in the blink of an eye, Hawke drew his Key-Sword with his off hand, and hooked the curved tip around Cullen's neck.

"_You alright, Varric?"_ Hawke asked his friend while keeping his swords firmly at the two knights' necks.

Varric straightened himself up and got off the floor. _"Yeah. Yeah, I'll live. Thanks, Hawke."_

Garret Hawke looked at the woman who threatened his friend with a glare that surpassed hers. _"Do you really think I'd have helped the Chantry after everything it put me through!?"_ The intensity of his voice made everyone step back. _"Everything that happened in Kirkwall was the Chantry's fault! Grand Cleric Elthina _knew_ one of her own Chantry Mothers was inciting violence against the Qunari, but did nothing until Seamus Dumar was murdered, and the Arishok burned half the city! Elthina _knew_ Meredith was abusing the mages and her authority, and did nothing while the people were suffering!"_

Hawke removed his blade from Cassandra's throat and turned his attention to Cullen with vicious anger and hatred burning behind his eyes. With Hawke's sense of presence and commanding voice, no one in the room dared to interrupt him.

"_Knight-Captain Cullen, Meredith's loyal stooge."_ Hawke said with disgust. _"You defended Meredith's every decision no matter how horrid, you were loyal to crazy bitch only until she went insane. You stole Bethany from my family."_ The Champion's grip on his sword was shaking with anger and the curve of his sword was pressing dangerously against the back of Cullen's neck. _"Do you have any idea what it was like for my family to have protected Bethany her whole life only for you to come and take her away, and then worrying about her every day and night, wondering if the next time I saw her I'd learn that she'd been made Tranquil, or executed? Do you!? Answer me!"_ Cullen said nothing, but averted his eyes from the Champion in shame. Hawke removed his sword from Cullen's neck and slugged his mailed fist into the Templar's face. Cullen stumbled backwards, landing on his back and hitting the back of his head against the wall. _"Every time I saw you, I wanted to murder you for what you put my family through!"_

With Cullen's mouth and nose bloodied, and both his swords sheathed, Hawke turned his attention to Leliana. _"And _you_, Sister Nightingale. Divine Justinia' knife in the dark, a damned assassin pretending to be a saint. You came to Kirkwall to assess if it needed to be put to the sword because mages started rebelling, but you didn't go there to save anyone. You and the Divine didn't care about how many people were suffering under Meredith's control because she had the Chantry's authority. You just wanted to put the mages in their place, to remind them that the Chantry owned them!"_

A pained look of shame swept across Leliana's face. While she wanted to defend her actions, there wasn't anything she could say that would matter to Hawke.

"_The Chantry didn't deserve my help. For all I knew, you wanted to execute me as a scapegoat."_ Hawke continued furiously. _"The Divine, and the Chantry, deserved everything that's happened to them for all the suffering they've caused. I was _glad_ to hear The Most Holy had been killed in her own Conclave!"_

Hawke stood there in the middle of the War Room in front of everyone, his voice still resonating in the halls, breathing heavy. Josephine and Mother Giselle stood there with pained and sympathetic looks on their faces, Leliana, on the other hand, had a look of mournful anger about what he said about Justinia. One of the most revered heroes in living memory had just degraded the very people who founded the Inquisition, and they could all feel the intensity of his scorn.

After regaining his calm composure, and seeing the affect he had on the three people he just disparaged, The Champion approached The Inquisitor. "_You'll have to forgive me, Inquisitor, if I have serious doubts about those who advise you. I'll be outside. Meet with me before I leave."_

Everyone parted a path for the Champion, not wanting to be the next object of his ire. When everyone felt like they could breathe again, they left the room, leaving Rajmael and Cassandra alone next to the War Table.

"_He was right."_ Cassandra admitted bitterly. _"I took Varric against his will, and ordered him to tell me where Hawke was so that he could serve the Chantry, and expected him to just give his friend up. If I had just explained to him what was at stake…If I'd just made him understand…But I didn't. I just ordered him to do it, and expected him to just give his friend up. I am such a fool."_

"_You cannot control everything, Cassandra. People especially."_ The Inquisitor said gently.

"_Perhaps, but it is only way I know how to protect others."_ The Seeker lamented.

"_Do you think things would be different if you'd found Hawke?"_ Rajmael asked consolingly.

"_Honestly? I think Hawke would've tried to kill me for even trying to recruit him. The Chantry only ever brought him pain."_ Cassandra answered sadly_. "But this isn't about Hawke, or even Varric, not really. Even when we first met, all I ever did was try to force my way onto others. I should have been smarter, more careful. I don't deserve to be here."_

Rajmael thought back to when Cassandra declared the Inquisition in defiance of the Chantry, and how she stood against the demons alongside Aedan Cousland so that he could escape back to the present. _"Cassandra, we wouldn't be here now if not for what you've done. You deserve to stand here more than most."_

Cassandra choked a sigh a relief. _"I…want you to truly know that I have no regrets following you. The Maker sent you, not The Champion of Kirkwall, or the Hero of Ferelden."_ Rajmael helped Cassandra stand back up. _"You're not what I would've expected, but if there's one thing I've learned, it's that I know less than nothing."_

**~XoXoXo~**

After everyone had about half an hour to calm down after what just transpired in the War Room, Hawke said his farewells to Varric, and asked his old friend to write a letter to Merrill and Isabella telling them he was alright, and to give them his love. Hawke missed his Rivaini minx and Dalish darling with all his heart.

His mind went back to Kirkwall as he recalled everything that was happening there. That pretentious, whiny, little wannabe priest, Sebastien Vael, finally returned to Starkhaven after ten years of avoiding it so that he didn't have to take up the responsibility rulership like scared child, and the first thing he did was launch an invasion against Kirkwall because Hawke didn't kill Anders. Aveline and the City Guard sent Sebastien back to Starkhaven with his tail between his legs, but that wouldn't stop him from trying again. But Hawke knew that no one could take Kirkwall from Aveline as long as her heart was beating.

Bethany. Even though Hawke knew Aveline took her somewhere safe from all the fighting, Hawke couldn't help but worry about his little sister. They were all that was left of their side of the family, and he didn't want anything to happen to her. Last he heard their cousin, Charade, visited her often and made sure she was safe. After losing his parents and his brother, Hawke wasn't going to lose any more family.

Hawke prayed that the Inquisitor was the solution to this horror he unknowingly unleashed. Corypheus only destroyed the Conclave and Haven because Hawke failed to kill him. And now his failure threatened to doom the world. He prayed his father, Malcolm, would forgive him for making his sacrifice vain.

"_Greetings Champion of Kirkwall."_ Mother Giselle greeted.

"_Greetings."_ Hawke returned politely.

"_Your name has passed through the lips of many who serve the Chantry, some spoke of you with reverence, others with resentment."_ The Chantry Mother stated honestly. _"Your time in Kirkwall made you famous amongst the inner circles of the Chantry."_

"_I merely did what I had to protect my family, and then later my city when our leaders, and the Chantry, refused to."_ Hawke answered sternly.

"_I understand the reasons for your actions, Champion."_ Giselle condoned. _"Grand Cleric Elthina was one of the best of people, and a dear friend of mine. I'm sure she'd be proud to know your accomplishments have brought you so far."_

"_Grand Cleric Elthina."_ Hawke groaned with enmity. _"The only reason why the Qunari invaded, and why Meredith was able to practically enslave Kirkwall was because that pious biddy was too busy praying on her knees to do anything useful. When the city needed action, she urged complacency. I will never condone what Anders did, but I always saw him in the depths of Dark Town healing the sick, delivering babies, and helping the wounded, while Elthina did nothing but sing in the Chantry. Maybe if she got up from her knees and off her ass, things never would have gotten as far as they did."_

"_I heard what you said back in the War Room, Champion. I believe half the keep heard you." _Mother Giselle admitted_. "I understand that your feelings for the Chantry must have soured after we failed to properly aide Kirkwall. I just hope that what the Chantry has, or has not done, hasn't faltered your faith in The Maker."_

A sad look washed over Hawke's eyes as painful memories swept through his mind_. "After what I saw after the defeat at Ostagar during the Blight, seeing a bloodmage turn my mother into an undead monstrosity, and discovering one of the Magisters who breached the Golden City, how can I not think the Maker exists." _The Champion listed sadly_. "Don't get me mistaken, Mother Giselle. I_ do_ believe in the Maker, with all my heart. Because I've seen the Maker's work more than you ever have. And He makes me sick."_

"_Then I pray that you find the good in the plan that he has for us all. After all that you've done for others, you certainly deserve to."_ Mother Giselle wished sincerely and left the Champion alone.

**~XoXoXo~**

Hawke had been left alone for not even five minutes when he sensed a familiar presence that made his anger spike.

_"If you're here to get punched again, I'll be more than happy to oblige you, Cullen."_ Hawke said, his displeasure obvious. _"If you're not here to get punched again, well, that still might happen anyway."_

Cullen approached the Champion with the slightest hint of hesitation in his step, and a piece of cotton in his nostrils to stop the bleeding from when Hawke punched him in the face back in the War Room. The Commander sighed deeply. He knew this day was a long time coming, and perhaps it was best to just get it over with.

_"Champion, I know that my...actions in the past have not endeared myself to you. Indeed, if I were in your position, I would probably hate me, too."_ Cullen said humbly. _"I know it doesn't mean much at this point, but I am sorry for what I did to your family."_

Leliana quietly approached, regret painted on her face._ "I...I too must apologize, Ser Hawke. I knew your sister when I was at the cloister in Lothering. I still remember your father and mother, and that they were good people. You were right about what you said back in the War Room. The Chantry failed to protect your family and Kirkwall the way we should have. You were right, the Divine did not send me to Kirkwall to truly aid in its troubles, but to suppress the conflict. We should have done more."_

Hawke looked at Cullen and Leliana, unmoved by their words. _"I'm sorry, but it's far too late for either of your words to mean a damned thing to me. If either of you had done something to stop Meredith's insanity, maybe Anders never would have destroyed Kirkwall's Chantry and many thousands who died would still be alive. Everything that happened was because you and the Chantry failed."_

A guilty look came over Cullen and Leliana. As much as they wanted to believe otherwise, they knew they could not deny what the Champion said.

_"Do you not think that we know this?"_ Leliana asked in exasperation. _"That every time I wake up I don't think about the many souls that are suffering because we did not do enough?"_

_"We tried our best, but in the end, it wasn't enough."_ Cullen added.

_"It's not that you didn't try and failed, it's that both of you did nothing."_ Hawke scolded. "_Both of you thought only of serving the Chantry, but neither of you cared about what was happening to the rest of us who live down here, in the real world, and how what you did affected us. What gave you the right to decide the fate of others? What right did you have to impose on us?"_

_"Our duty, the Chantry's duty, was to ensure the safety of Thedas."_ Leliana justified adamantly._ "There was so much chaos in Kirkwall, that the Divine had no choice but to take action."_

_"I find your naïve misgiving to be almost hilarious, Sister Nightingale."_ Hawke chuckled sarcastically. _"You're still trying to see things from a standpoint a Chantry servant, that everything you did was for the betterment of everyone else, and not solely for the Chantry's benefit. Everything that has happened to the world is the Chantry's fault, and both of you contributed."_

Both Leliana and Cullen were taken aback at what Hawke said. A sensation of anger and denial dwelled in them both, but they also felt they couldn't deny what he said.

_"You don't think you contributed to that, Champion?!"_ Cullen demanded angrily. _"That maybe the thing you did added to the chaos? Maybe if you had turned Anders over to the Circle none of that would have happened?"_

_"Typical Chantry attitude: 'it's always someone else's fault."_ Hawke responded dourly. "_You think that if Anders was taken by the Circle Meredith wouldn't have become a tyrannical bitch that she was? Or that Mother Petrice wouldn't have provoked the Qunari? Fuck you, both of you." Garret stood up to both of them angrily, not giving them any room to debate him. "You let Meredith unjustly turn mages Tranquil, for the most meaningless of reasons! You let her rob them of their Maker-given free will, sunder their souls! You, Leliana, you and the Chantry gave Meredith the power to enslave the city, and only wanted to take action that would keep you in control. Neither of you cared about Kirkwall! I did what I knew in my heart was right. I wasn't guided by bigotry or some misbegotten loyalty to a corrupt institution. And in the end, I know I can go before the Maker with a clear conscience. Can either of you say the same?"_

Both Cullen and Leliana were stung by the Champions words, and a feeling of dread crept through their hearts. Both of them had done questionable, even awful things throughout their lives. And when they stood before the Maker, would His judgment on them be merciful?

"_You...! You're right. There's no point in denying that any more."_ Cullen admitted in defeat. _"I allowed what happened to me in Fereldan to justify the treatment of Kirkwall's mages. I never thought to question Meredith, even though I knew her methods were becoming more harsh and intolerable. I knew she wielded the brand for minor reasons, but I thought she was stopping the corruption before it started. There is no excuse for what I allowed her to do."_

_"We didn't do enough for the people of Kirkwall, and you're right to be angry."_ Leliana confessed. _"I know that apologies are meaningless, but I will make sure that we learn from our mistakes, and do better for Thedas."_

_"Maybe you can give those condolences to all the people who died thanks to your failures. I'm sure they'll be overjoyed."_ Hawke scoffed uncaringly_. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I got better things to do with my time than shoot with people I don't like."_

Cullen and Leliana were left morose and dismayed. Garret Hawke was one of the most celebrated heroes in Thedas, and was well known for his just character. For him to have judged them so poorly spoke terribly of their actions. It couldn't be denied that if the Chantry had done more, maybe Thedas wouldn't be in the chaos it was now. Meredith had stoked the flames with her prejudiced lunacy that quickly blazed like wildfire across Thedas, and she did it with the Divine's authority. Divine Justinia tried to douse the flames of war, but there were too many fires to put out, too many souls that had been burned by the Chantry's ignorance and failure. The only way for the Chantry to continue and to make up for what it had done was for them to learn from their mistakes, and try to mend the world. Otherwise, righteous men, men like Hawke, would rise against them and the world will have learned nothing from all this.

**~XoXoXo~**

"_Everything alright?"_ Rajmael asked. He noticed that the Champion seemed a little put out

"_Just more people with wishful thinking."_ Hawke answered_. "Before I go, I left a cache of weapons and a few other things for you and your companions. Maker knows you'll probably need them more than I do."_

"_Do any of them have your autograph?" _Rajmael asked hopefully.

"_Just one of the books Varric wrote."_ That answer almost made The Inquisitor jump for joy_. "Now, if you'd be so kind as to show me a discreet exit out of your keep. I'd rather not make a scene as I leave."_

Rajmael put a sly grin on his face. _"It's down the hall that way to your left and…__**HEY, EVERYONE, THE CHAMPION OF KIRKWALL IS OVER HERE!"**_ The Inquisitor screamed out into the courtyard.

That announcement left Hawke dumbstruck and practically all of Skyhold heard it. Scout Harding squealed at the top of her lungs and it echoed throughout the mountains, as almost all of the refugees and pilgrims came stampeding to the Main Hall.

"_Oh, Champion! Please sign my books!"_ Scout Harding cried.

"_Sign my chest!"_ A lay sister begged.

"_Give me a baby!"_ A random woman from the oncoming crowd shrieked.

Hawke's eyes darted around and desperately looked for an exit before the ravenous herd of fans caught him.

"_Champion, over here!"_ Josephine became his saving grace when she opened a door that led to another exit out of the Main Hall.

"_Thank you, milady." _Hawke said as he ran past the Ambassador and shot her a flirtatious wink.

"_J-just send an autographed picture to my sister. Yvette Montilyet of Antiva City!"_ Josephine called after Hawke as he ran down the alternate passage.

Leliana shot Josephine an inquisitive look_. "Josie? Are you…blushing?"_

"_What? No!"_ A flush-faced Josephine denied_. "I…I think men with beards are attractive. And…he's the Champion of Kirkwall for Andraste's sake!"_

Cassandra looked into the chest Hawke left behind and felt her heart almost stop at the sight of the one item she never thought she'd ever see in the flesh, and her hands shook almost uncontrollably as he reached for it. A gilded-hardcover, limited edition copy of Tales of The Champion, autographed by Hawke, and all his companions. There was even an autographed picture inside. Cassandra looked to make sure no one was watching her, and quickly grabbed her coveted prize, then stored it in her satchel. She would read it later, for purely academic reasons only.


	11. Settling in Skyhold

**Settling in Skyhold**

A while after Hawke had left, Varric stood by himself near the fireplace. Hawke had made his feelings about the Chantry's actions known, but Varric felt like he was still going to catch shit from the rest of Inquisition, especially now that the Champion was no longer here. But after seeing that bastard Corypheus again, and watching him destroy Haven, Varric felt guilty about not telling the truth about Hawke. Maybe then Corypheus wouldn't have kicked their asses.

The Inquisitor approached the dwarf, and now Varric knew he was probably going to get it_. "Look, Inquisitor, I didn't mean to keep Hawke a secret. I told Cassandra and the Inquisition everything that seemed important…at the time."_

"_Only a true friend wouldn't betray his comrade with someone like Cassandra threatening to stab you…in the books."_ Amongst the Dalish, no one ever sold out a member of their clan. Rajmael admired Varric's loyalty. _"Still, it would've been nice to know about Corypheus before I had a mountain dropped on me."_

"_I don't really know what The Elder One is, when we first went into his prison, I thought he was just another darkspawn. I'm not sure Corypheus really knows what he is, either."_ Varric answered as he stared into the flames. _"He claims to be a magister, a priest of Dumat, in fact. And he says he broke into the Golden City, you know, like in the Chantry tale. Bianca and I stuck that bastard with so many arrows I had restock my whole supply for the year. And even after Hawke cut off his head and Blondie incinerated his carcass, he still comes back to haunt us."_ Varric sighed dismally and wiped his hand over his face in despair. _"I thought the Wardens imprisoned him to use as a weapon, but forgot about him. Now I think they imprisoned him because they couldn't kill him, and chose to forget he even existed. Maker's breath, what have I unleashed?"_

"_You weren't the one who created the Blights, you weren't the one who destroyed the Conclave and opened the Breach. That was all on Corypheus."_ Rajmael consoled.

"_I was the one who found Corypheus' prison, I lead Hawke into the mountains where he was unleashed."_ Varric countered dismally. _"Some people, like the Seeker, would see that as guilt by association."_

"_Wrong."_ Rajmael put down. _"Corypheus knows exactly what he is doing, and doesn't care. He chose to kill the Divine, he chose to open the Breach, and he didn't care about the consequences. You didn't make Corypheus into a murderer, he chose to be one."_

And here Varric thought he was the one better suited to talking. Rajmael's words actually relieved him a little bit_. "You know, I've never been good at the whole religious thing, it's always been too complicated. Never really knew where I stood in all that. But you do a good job of the whole prophet/savior bit."_

"_I don't need, or want, a disciple Varric. I need friends."_ Rajmael said truthfully as he held out his hand to Varric. _"And from what I've seen with Hawke, I'd be lucky to have a friend whose half as loyal and entertaining as you."_

Varric smiled that signature grin of his and shook Rajmael's hand affirmatively. _"Now, that is something I can work with, Rajmael. It's good to know where I stand in all this."_

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael finally made it up to the rookery and found Leliana giving orders to some of her agents. As they nodded their head and were dismissed the Inquisitor noticed that Sister Nightingale looked forlorn.

"_Is everything all right, Leliana?"_ Rajmael addressed.

"_Yes."_ Leliana started but then looked away. _"Everything is…no, everything is but all right."_

"_How do you mean?"_

Leliana heaved long sigh. _"Everything that happened at Haven, we lost so many good men and women when that…thing attacked. I feel like it all could've been avoided."_

"_You did the best that you could."_ Rajmael said, trying to console her. _"There was nothing you could've done."_

"_But there was!"_ Leliana insisted. _"I had scouts and agents positioned all throughout the area. But when some of them went missing, I ordered them to pull out instead of having the men do their job. If they had stayed to fend of the Red Templars so many dead now would still be alive."_

Rajmael didn't like the sound of that_. "You pulled your men out because you were looking after them, no commander can do more than that."_

"_My agents and I know the risks."_ The spymaster argued. _"I pulled them out because I was emotional, if the life of one agent can save ten, then it's worth the sacrifice."_

"_Our agents, soldiers and mages, are people too, Leliana."_ Rajmael shot back. _"If we abuse our authority and treat those under our command as battle fodder, no matter the excuse or outcome, we are just as bad as Corypheus."_

Leliana pondered that for a moment and her mind turned back to the Blight. It was hard to believe that it was just ten years ago and already they have another world-threatening crisis on their hands. She thought of Ostagar, Aedan and Loghain. Loghain had sacrificed his army and his king at the disaster of a battle and he believed that it was all for the greater good of Ferelden, but he didn't stop there. He began to organize assassination, waged war on his own people, and became a slaver and still told himself that he did it for the sake of his nation's freedom. Aedan on the other hand, inspired others to follow him, and despite his foul temper and willingness to commit violence, he succeeded. He didn't sacrifice anyone, he inspired others to go into the dragon's maw with him without regrets. But Aedan only ever cared about Ferelden. As far as Aedan was concerned, the rest of the world could burn.

"_If there's one thing I learned from Aedan Cousland, it's that the only way to protect what you love, and avenge what you've lost, is by being utterly ruthless and destroy our enemies without remorse." _Leliana said despondently._ "And against an enemy like Corypheus, we cannot afford to do anything less."_

Rajmael remembered the Leliana he met back in the future. How devoid of emotion and compassion she was. How the Elder One drained everything vibrant and beautiful about her. Rajmael could not let that happen to her walk down that path._ "If we use our people as board pieces to be discarded and replaced, how can they trust us to save the world?"_ Rajmael replied honestly as he remembered what a Keeper's duty to their clan_. "It is when times are darkest that our ideals matter the most. And that is something we can't let Corypheus take from us, or he wins no matter what."_

Leliana's face was like frozen ice, but Rajmael could see that her heart and her mind in conflict through her green eyes. _"I will…consider what you've said, but I make no promises. Corypheus is far too great a threat to be taken lightly."_

"_That is all I ask, Leliana."_

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael decided to speak with Josephine and see how their progress was coming along as an established entity. When he came into her office he was most certainly not surprised to her handling several messengers and liaisons concerned about several different matters. One was a dwarven emissary from King Bhelen Aeducan's court who Josephine was trying to negotiate a garrison of the Legion of the Dead soldiers from. Another was a member of the Fereldan Crafter's Hall here on behalf of trade contracts for Skyhold. The last one was a Rivaini captain from the Felicisima Armada of all people.

Josephine addressed each of them while signing important documents, and without even taking her eyes off of her clipboard. All while maintaining her poise and graceful, charming demeanor.

"_Please tell King Bhelen that if he, and the deshyrs of the Assembly, start a suitable loaning contract with us, then I promise to get him trade routes beyond the Orlesian Empire and its civil disputes."_

The dwarf bowed his head in agreement. _"His majesty will appreciate you lending us aid in these turbulent times, my lady."_

"_Master Dryden,"_ Josephine continued. _"If your Uncle Levi can guarantee a yearlong supplying contract with us then I will arrange for your family to establish your businesses in Val Royeaux. Procure us your Uncle Mikhael's weapon and armor schematics, and you will receive trade routes through the Free Marches."_

"_The Dryden Family will be honored to do our part, Lady Josephine."_ The merchant promised.

Josephine finally turned her attention to out of place sailor in the middle of the mountain. _"And Captain Cisco, if you can secure sea trade to our suppliers, both in Ferelden and in Orlais, I will see to it that your ships will have legal status as privateers for the Inquisition, provided that you act accordingly while flying our colors."_

"_Admiral Isabella is the very soul of modesty, Madame Montilyet."_ The Captain promised with a joking grin full of gold teeth.

"_So I've heard."_ Josephine responded sarcastically.

"_You will not regret this decision."_ The captain swore.

The three dignitaries all bowed in respect and conclusion as they made their way out of the office, leaving The Inquisitor alone with The Ambassador.

"_Making yourself comfortable already, Josephine?"_ Rajmael grinned.

"_Oh, I've had to."_ "Josephine exhaled. _"We are now recognized as a legitimate organization, and we are growing. To keep up with the new numbers and favors being asked of us I have to secure necessary trade and shipping routes, as well as financiers for our future endeavors."_

"_It must certainly be arduous doing all this by yourself."_

"_What? No, hardly, my lord."_ Josephine waved off. _"This sort of thing is exactly why Leliana recruited me. Dealing with people from different lands and cultures and getting them into agreement is exactly why I became an ambassador. I can't bear the thought of someone else doing my job for me."_ The smile slowly faded from Josephine's face. _"And I've needed to keep busy to keep my mind off of…recent events."_

Rajmael hadn't realized that Josephine had probably never even seen a fight, only read about its statistics on a scroll, and didn't take into account how the attack on Haven might have affected her_. "Are you alright? I understand that what happened at Haven was…traumatic."_

"_I've had to sign various death certificates, and make funeral arrangements for everyone we lost at Haven."_ Josephine answered with despair. _"Do you know who first raised arms once Corypheus breached the village? Our workers and laborers. They were so proud to serve the Inquisition, and were so willing to defend it. Corypheus cut them down like they were nothing."_

It was almost heartbreaking seeing someone so unused to the brutal reality of conflict and death be so vulnerable. Rajmael knew Josephine had the inner strength to talk down military and royalty, but she couldn't bear the thought of having others die for her_. "Their lives will not have been in vain if we succeed, Josephine."_

"_I know. And at least they will have found peace at the Maker's side."_ Josephine wiped her eyes with an embroidered handkerchief. _"Please, let us move on to more immediate concerns. Congratulations on your new role and title, after what you've accomplished with both the mages and the Breach there is no one I'd rather have leading this Inquisition."_

"_With the whole world now watching everything I do, I just hope I won't make a complete ass of myself on an international level."_ Rajmael laughed.

"_Yes, that would be most unfortunate."_ Josephine smiled_. "While we're on the subject of the world viewing, how would you prefer to be addressed? A man of your stature must be addressed by the proper moniker if you are to command the proper respect."_

"_I prefer to be addressed by name, Josephine."_ Rajmael answered.

"_That is proper for those you know on a personal level, but now that you are in command of a powerful title, you must be addressed with the proper respect."_ Josephine explained_. "In matters regarding, and when others address you, would prefer, 'His Holiness', 'His Worship', His Eminence?"_

"_None of those!" _Rajmael said insistently_. "Such titles are an insult to my gods. No one should be the object of another's worship."_

"_That will not stop others from addressing you as thus."_ Josephine replied. _"But I understand your reservation. When the Inquisition acts in your name we shall limit our addressing of you to 'Lord', or 'Grace'."_

"_I can accept being addressed with respect, but I don't want people treating me as though I'm some kind of demi-god."_ The Inquisitor stated. _"That kind of thinking is exactly why the Chantry is falling apart, and we must be above such grandstanding arrogance."_

"_I understand completely, my lord."_ Josephine confirmed. _"We are institute of various people and beliefs. It is good that you understand and respect such truth with humility."_

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael decided to finally address that strange boy that warned them of Coryphues, Cole. Who or what was he that he could look into the minds of others? He couldn't truly be a mage, Rajmael would have sensed his magic. Yet, somehow that boy was able to get into his head to warn him. What was he? Where the hell was he?

Rajmael walked the steps into the lower courtyard and saw Cole sitting on the grass watch ants march by, while Vivienne, Cassandra and Solas were discussing their newest residential oddball.

"_This thing is not a stray puppy you can just adopt."_ Vivienne said condescendingly_. "It has no business here."_

"_Wouldn't you normally say the same thing about a heathen elf and an apostate having no place leading an Inquisition?"_ Solas returned. Vivienne said nothing.

Rajmael looked Cassandra while the apostate and the Grand Enchanter glared daggers at each other.

"_Inquisitor, I thought perhaps Cole might be a mage, given his…unusual abilities"_ Cassandra informed.

"_He can cause people to forget him, or even fail to notice him entirely."_ Solas added. _"These are not the abilities of a mage. It seems that Cole is a spirit."_

"_It is a demon."_ Vivienne sneered.

"_If you prefer such a description, but the truth is always somewhat more complex." _Solas countered calmly.

"_Spirits are creatures that embody a purpose or trait."_ Rajmael recited from his teachings under Keeper Deshana. _"If Cole is in human form, what manner of spirit is he?"_

"_I am not certain."_ Solas answered with approval. _"But he came to assist you, clearly he is a benevolent spirit."_

"_It is a demon."_ Vivienne insisted disapprovingly. _"Theirs is never the kind of help anyone needs."_

"_I'm not sure we can even define Cole's nature of purpose."_

"_Speak plainly, Solas." _Cassandra dictated as Cole looked like he was trying to catch rays of sunlight. _"What are we dealing with here?"_

"_Demons can only enter this world through possessing a living thing, or by being summoned and bound through certain rituals."_ Solas reminded.

"_You're not saying anything none of us don't already know, dear."_ Vivienne criticized.

"_Cole is unique."_ Solas answered. _"He manifested himself into the physical world and assumed his own tangible form to walk amongst us. He looks like a young man, for all intents and purposes, he __is__ a young man. I have never seen or even heard of a spirit with such clarity of purpose to physically place itself in the physical realm. But if you want more concrete answers as to what Cole wants, or what he is doing here, I would suggest asking him."_

"_I would advise against that."_ Vivienne interjected. _"Mages in the Circle must face a demon to pass their Harrowing, and if they fail and become possessed, the templars must slay them. We cannot afford to be putting the Inquisitor in such peril because Solas wants to indulge his unnatural fascination with creatures from the Fade."_

"_I agree."_ Cassandra added_. "We do not know what dangers we risk by having Cole here. We should tell it to just leave. Spirits are never creature to take at face value."_

"_And what do you two know about spirits exactly?"_ Rajmael asked sardonically.

"_All that needs to be known."_ Vivienne answered. _"The Harrowing…."_

"_The short answer: nothing!"_ Rajmael interrupted. _"You two know as much about spirits as you do about Rivaini seers. I will speak with Cole, and then I will decide what is to become of him."_

The Seeker and the Grand Enchanter both had an unhappy grimace on their face, while Solas smiled to himself as Rajmael walked over to Cole. The young man was standing by himself in the courtyard near the makeshift hospital camp, looking at the wounded.

"_Andaran atish'an, elgar."_ Rajmael greeted, wondering what Cole's reaction might be.

"_Hello."_ Cole answered. _"I know what you said, but I can't say elven words very well. They come out of my lips all wrong."_

Spirits could enter, and were reflections of those that dream. They were not limited by a language barrier. _"So, you are indeed a spirit."_

"_Yes."_ Cole answered almost inaudibly_. "I used to think I was a ghost, I didn't know. I made mistakes…but I made friends, too."_

"_What kind of spirit are you?"_

Cole looked over to a soldier laying down on one of the cots. He looked like he was in agony. _"Haven, so many people fought so that others could escape. So much pain, and fear, and screaming. White hot pain searing in my chest, it hurts." _The soldier ceased his struggling. _"Dead."_

There was nothing anyone could have done for that man. Rajmael knew that. "_You can sense the pain and distress in others?"_

"_Yes. But I can also look for ways to help the hurt. To make it not as painful."_ Cole looked to another battered soldier laying down by a dying fire. _"He's dead. I can't believe Alec is dead. Cracked brown pain, dry, scraping. Thirsty."_ Cole walked over to a nearby water basin and filled the nearby water dipper. He brought it to the man's lips and helped him drink_. "Shh. Sleep now. When you wake up, your pain will be gone, and your friend's death won't hurt you anymore."_

"_You can dip into the minds of others and remove their pain? As well as their memory of you?"_

"_Yes. Pain can do terrible things to people, I've seen what it can do. So I help them to forget, so the pain doesn't spread in them like a poison."_

This was incredible. A physically manifested spirit whose purpose was to aid others. This was something for the history books. _"Why did you warn me back in Haven that Corypheus was coming? Why are you here?"_

Cole looked intently at the grass with pain on his face. _"I thought I was real, that the life I saw before was my own. But a templar proved I wasn't real. I lost my friends, I lost everything. But Rhys said that I could be more, that all spirits were not the same." _Cole turned to face Rajmael, the determination in his eyes was obscured by his outlandish hat. _"I came here because I to be more than just a spirit. To be stronger. To help people. That was why I became Cole."_

Rajmael took a moment to look at the determination on this young man's face. No spirit he ever encountered so willingly made himself so real before. Perhaps Solas was right. _"I believe you, Cole. The Inquisition needs to people who are eager to aide others."_

"_Yes, help the people who the Elder One is hurting."_ Cole stated with monotone happiness. _"Stop him and the Venatori from hurting anyone else." _Cole looked to another soldier whose face was twisted in pain. _"Hurts, hurts, hurts. Maker, please make it stop hurting. Make it stop."_ Cole looked back to the Inquisitor pleadingly, and brandished his dagger. _"The healers have done all they can for him. It will take him hours to die. Every moment will be agony. He wants mercy."_

Rajmael shook his head sadly. _"Take away his pain, not his life."_

"_But the pain will only come back, and he'll still want to die."_

The Inquistor reached into his satchel and pulled out a dried root. _"Grind this into a powder and make him drink it. It will help the pain."_ Cole put his dagger away and gently took the root. _"It isn't our place to decide when the suffering should die, Cole. That kind of judgement is reserved for the gods."_

Cole gently clenched the root in his hand_. "I will try. I will try to be better."_

**~XoXoXo~**

Cullen was in the middle of the courtyard giving out direction to some of the Inquisition's men. To the soldiers he assigned their posts in the keep, the architects he told what parts of the castle needed clearing and reconstructing.

"_Are you still feeling the effects of the Champion's little outburst, Commander?"_ Rajmael asked as he observed the two cotton balls in both of Cullen's nostrils.

"_Oh, not so much now."_ Cullen answered as pulled the cotton balls out of his nose and threw them away.

"_Do you think Hawke was a little too harsh?"_ Rajmael asked wanting to know his honest opinion.

"_No."_ Cullen answered stoically_. "He merely stated the truth. The Chantry and the Templar Order failed him one catastrophe after another, we couldn't even save Hawke's mother because we were too busy cracking down on the mages under our charge. And I wronged him personally." _A look of guilt spread on Cullen's face as he remembered his past._ "For years I knew that Meredith was treating the mages harshly and unfairly, but I turned a blind eye, using what happened to me back in Ferelden as an excuse. After everything the templars put him through, I should be glad punching me was all he did. And after what he did to the Arishok, I was lucky his punch didn't break my face."_

Rajmael was surprised at how well Cullen was taking this. The Commander was obviously looking for a new direction in his life. _"Well, maybe this Inquisition can do better. So that people like Hawke and his family don't have to go through what he did."_

"_The Inquisition is already changing the world."_ Cullen stated honesty_. "You may not believe yourself to be the Herald of Andraste, but you are the Herald of the new world that's coming out of the Dragon Age. Things are never going to go back to the way they were before."_

"_How do you figure?"_ Rajmael asked.

"_Well, for starters, the Circle of Magi and the Templar order are never going back to serving the Chantry after all of this. Maker only knows how the Chantry itself is going to survive this."_

Rajmael rolled his eyes_. "Let's not make this about the Chantry, what do you think the mages and Templars should do after all of this. The Inquisition can't won't have authority over the mages forever, and I doubt many are going to look favorably on the Templars after they've offered their allegiance to the enemy of all Thedas."_

Cullen looked intent for a moment_. "Personally, I believe that The Circles should be given their independence from the Chantry altogether, and continue to be institute to instruct and nurture mages, and that the Templars should still be their guardians should there be corruption."_

"_Well, how is that any different than from before?" _Rajmael inquired.

"_Instead of answering to the Chantry, whose views are usually very biased, both factions should be answerable to the country in which they reside, but retain their own authority within the Circle ranks." _Cullen answered_. "The templars should answer to whoever rules the country, and the mages should continue to teach and learn magic while acting as healers and educators for the government."_

"_And what if they don't want to stay in the towers for the whole life?"_

"_Well, with Circle instructions and with the permission of the government they should be allowed to seek military service or apothecary but no matter what they should still have some sort of oversight from Templars."_

Rajmael didn't know if he liked the sound of that. "_What's to stop the Templars from abusing their authority again?"_

Cullen gave a slight smirk. _"Because they won't have any true authority over Templars and Mages should have equal authority and say in what happens in Circle politics, while being mediated by an envoy from the crown. No one faction should have authority over the other, and all should work for the betterment of the world. The Chantry has only ever served its own agenda, maybe it's time for the Circles to serve something less superficial."_

Rajmael liked that his general was just talking and not barking orders and decided to keep the ball rolling. _"And where would they get lyrium?"_

"_I have no idea."_ Cullen sighed wearily. _"That would be up to the kingdoms of Thedas and Orzammar, and I'm no politician. It's all an idea right now anyway." _Cullen rubbed his temples like he had a headache. _"Hopefully, I'll be alive when that happens."_

"_Hopefully, we all will." _Rajmael added.

**~XoXoXo~**

Just like when he first arrived back in Haven, Rajmael found Warden Blackwall staring towards the sky, this time at the battlements and walls that protected Skyhold. And instead of looking with awe, he looked with the keen eye of an experienced soldier. The veteran Warden invited The Inquisitor to walk with him around the ramparts and examine their fortifications.

The two warriors looked out into the wide mountain gorge from the top of Skyhold's mighty walls. _"This place is every war leader's dream come true." _Blackwall approved. _"Our backs pressed against the mountain with tunnels for escape and supply, plenty of fresh water. One way in, one way out, and we can see our enemy coming for miles."_

"_Corypheus caught us by surprise in a village built for pilgrimage. He will not have the same advantage again."_ Rajmael confirmed sternly. _"One way or another, he is going to die for what he's done."_

"_You don't need to tell me twice."_ Blackwall agreed with gusto_. "Corypheus killed a hundred loyal men and women, but he made a thousand enemies when he attacked Haven. I swear I'll take that twisted beast down, even if I have to die to do it."_

"_I've lost enough loyal people to that thing. I don't need to lose another."_ Rajmael said respectfully.

"_Hey, I'm a Warden. Killing darkspawn and dying in the process is practically in our recruitment brochure."_ Blackwall laughed. _"Look, despite the situation, and having an ancient magister crushing Haven, there's still hope. People are flocking to your banner in droves because they believe in you, what you've done, what you can do."_ Blackwall walked further along the ramparts before turning back to face Rajmael with a serious look on his face behind his thick beard_. "Tell me honestly: are you what they say you are? Are you the chosen of Andraste?"_

Rajmael gave a deep, dismal sigh. _"No. I wish people would understand that I don't believe in Andraste, or the Maker. And I know that it sounds selfish, but I'll always put my beliefs before theirs. I'll honor my gods before I even think of theirs."_

"_Well, so far you've done a better damn job of it than the rest of the world has."_ Blackwall sighed. _"Maybe there's more to your elven gods than most people would give credit for. But whatever you claim to be, or what name you call your higher power, you're a symbol of hope, of victory to these people. Don't discount the affect you have on these people."_

"_I guess a Grey Warden, you'd probably know about that. Especially considering what your Order did in Ferelden."_

"_When people see the Griffon's Banner flying when their surrounded by hordres of Blighted blackness, they feel hope, and that chance for victory. It gives them something to fight for."_ Blackwall spoke with reverence_. "The Inquisition could be that, and more. Ah, but listen to me go on like some old fish wife. I've wasted enough of your time. If you need me, I'll be by the stables."_

**~XoXoXo~**

As Rajmael walked down from the battlements he saw Iron Bull speaking with his men. It was almost a reflection of Rajmael's own personal entourage: a colorfully diverse group of trained killers and questionable sanity. But they all seemed pretty friendly with one another, laughing, joking and having a more than mutual respect for one another. Rajmael still found it hard to believe that a man as gregarious and obviously loves to enjoy life like Iron Bull was a Ben-hessrath agent, considering he acted the exact opposite of an ideal Qunari. But then, that was probably the whole point of being a spy, not being expected, it was the first rule of being a good hunter amongst the Dalish.

The Iron Bull waved Rajmael to come over and meet him as The Chargers walked into the newly established tavern_. "So, Inquisitor, huh? Well, you definitely got the fortress for it now. How's your new title feel?"_

"_We only made official what was already the case, Bull. The only thing that's different is the scenery." _Rajmael answered.

"_Right. A change of scenery after an ancient Vint asshole tears your old place apart with his pet dragon, everything is the same."_ Bull said with a sarcastic smile.

"_Well, when you put it like that…."_

"_Hey, you wanna spar? Dyin' for some action."_ Iron Bull requested eagerly.

"_Training weapons only."_ Rajmael consented_. "I don't have time to look for a new mercenary captain."_

"_Yeah, and I don't think we can replace you with another Inquisitor who can seal Rifts."_ Iron Bull chuckled.

The one-eyed qunari and the elven mage made their way over to a makeshift sparring yard. Iron Bull found a decent training axe while Rajmael held a simple training sword. The two of them assumed their stances and prepared for their match.

"_You're not going to use any of that fancy Arcane Warrior stuff, are you?"_ Bull asked trying to hide his dislike for magic.

"_Oh, trust me, Bull. I won't need it."_ Rajmael smiled.

"_See, now I actually have to hurt you."_ Iron Bull promised as he swung his axe with a powerful left. Rajmael evaded the powerful swing with grace.

"_So how do you like your new title and position, boss?"_ Iron Bull asked as he swung.

"_It's a colossal pain in the ass."_ Rajmael answered as dodged each swing. _"As the first of my clan I was trained to lead, but being a symbol of something I know nothing of, and having people look to me like that, is something I was never prepared for."_

Iron Bull drove an over headed strike down on Rajmael with astounding speed. _"Yeah, I get it."_ Bull confirmd as the spry elf jumped out the strike's way. _"It's hard to be just an idea. I know every soldier under my command, you don't have that luxury. Now you've got to live up to that expectation everyone has of you."_

"_Not too much pressure, right?" _Rajmael moved Iron Bull's blindspot and tried to stab him, the muscle-bound oxeman knew how to defend his flank. _"If they ever find out how much this job scared the crap out of me, their opinion might change."_

"_Hey, come on, it's not the bad."_ Iron Bull responded as pushed the elf away from him. _"The idea of who you are and what you can do is what brought them to you in the first place. Who else can say that? You've got a good army shaping up here, don't forget that."_

The two of them stopped talking and focused on each other for. Rajmael could tell Bull adapted his style to protect his blind side, which made him somewhat predictable. Rajmael feigned to to Bull's left were his dead eye wouldn't help him, and as expected, Bull moved to defend, then Rajmael quickly swung a solid stroke to his opponent's open right side. What he didn't expect was for Iron Bull to just take the hit and pound him in the chest with hard elbow jab. Rajmael went back several feet and Bull didn't even look like he felt the hit.

"_I've got to ask, boss: how does a mage get so good at fighting?"_

"_Evanura, my clan's best swordsman and her husband, Nethras, our clan's best hunters, taught me."_ Rajmael answered as he reassumed his stance.

Iron Bull charged in with incredible force and speed, swinging his axe with powerful intent. _"Yeah? You guys close?"_

Rajmael continued to dodge Iron Bull's attacks with focus. _"Their daughter is my godchild."_

Their weapons locked and Iron Bull used his immense weight to press the Inquisitor down. _"And did they teach you anything really good."_

Rajmael smiled slyly at the one-eyed qunari agent bearing down on him. The elf shifted to the side and sent all of Iron Bull's weight driving forward. As the qunari's momentum sent him forward, he planted his foot down hard to regain his control and spun back around with a powerful swing at his elven opponent. The instant Bull turned back around, Rajmael was in his center with his hands on Iron Bull's weapon. The elf shifted the qunari's center of balance, with his ranged negated. Before Iron Bull had a chance to know what was happening, all three hundred pounds of him was sent flying forward and onto his back with a resounding thud.

"_Nethras taught me some tricks. Evanura taught me even more."_ Rajmael answered as he placed Iron Bull's axe at his throat.

"_Good one."_ Iron Bull groaned as he looked at the three Inquisitors standing over him. Iron Bull picked himself back up and tried to shake the dizziness off of him. _"What kind of move was that?"_

"_Dalish martial arts."_ Rajmael answered as he walked away. _"We've become very good at learning how to beat bigger opponents."_

As Rajmael walked away, Iron Bull couldn't help but wonder about the formidability of the Dalish Elves. The qunari knew very little about the nomadic elves who wandered the wilds of Thedas except what elven converts told them, which wasn't very much. Even the Chargers' own not-mage spoke little of her people. The Qunari opinion of them was very low; they pitied those elves who wander around like vagabonds with no purpose, trying to revive what has already died. But Iron Bull believed now more than every that a single Dalish clan was probably more worthy of respect than many military garrisons he'd seen. The Dalish were constantly at odds with world, with nature and hostile humans, yet despite the odds stacked against them, they not only survived, they've thrived. Every Dalish elf was a warrior in their own right by necessity, ever Dalish elf worked, knew a trade and contributed to the whole of their clan. Perhaps the Dalish were more worthy of more respect than the Qunari gave them credit for, and Rajmael only proved how worthy they are.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael walked down from the battlements and back down into the courtyard. Rajmael always got a slight stinging sensation in his forehead when Sera came near him. It was probably her annoying voice. Her annoying haircut. Her annoying…everything.

"_Hey, you, Inquisitor. It is Inquisitor now, right? Got a minute?"_ Sera asked in her usual annoying demeanor.

"_I got five."_ Rajmael answered trying to hide his annoyance.

"_So, remember that little war we talked about stopping? Full of little baddies I could stick with little arrows? That's not a friggin' Archdemon is it!?"_

"_You were in Ferelden during the Blight. You tell me."_ Rajmael countered.

"_No one can explain what the frick that Coryphy-shit is!"_ Sera practically shrieked. _"All I know is that dead magisters who started the Blights can't be real! That just makes sense right?"_

"_I don't know. The darkspawn magister and the Archdemon that took a shit on my doorstep seemed pretty real to me."_

"_No. No. NO!"_ Sera denied. _"That can't be real, 'cause I can't use arrows on stories that are not real. 'Cause that means that mean's Coryphy-thingy cracked the Golden City, seat of the Maker, blah blah blah. But if that's all real then that means the seat of the Maker is real, and a seat needs a butt to sit in it. So the Maker, real thing, and all the stories about the end of the world?"_

This was surprising yet extremely aggravating_. "I thought you believed in the Maker and Andraste?"_

"_I believe!" _Sera defended. _"Except there's supposed to be real, and not real, then really real!"_

Now this woman was giving him a really real headache_. "You claim to believe in a higher power, but then you doubt everything you see and hear?"_

"_But it can't all be true, really true. Even fanatics don't want to be this right."_

"_The Venatori certainly seem like they do."_

"_Look! All I want is for things to get back to normal so I can go and play."_ Sera said putting her foot down. _"Look, I have arrows, I believe in those, and I'll make Coryphinus believe in those, too, alright? And then we can get things back to normal, and I can have fun."_

"_If you only want to have fun then why in Mythal's mercy did you come here in the first place?"_ Rajmael finally inquired. _"You had to know that we were probably going to get into some very ugly shit to fix the problems going on."_

"_What? What do you mean? To help people."_ Sera answered apprehensively.

"_Right, because you knew that the Inquisition is exactly the way you want it to be."_

"_Fine."_ Sera groaned. _"Look, maybe I do believe, but it's all really fuzzy. Maybe I want to know if it's really real. I just don't really know if I really want to know."_

"_Well, that makes absolutely no sense at all."_

"_Well, why do you believe in all that elfy stuff?"_ Sera asked offensively. _"I heard you say you were originally born as people, not Dalish. So why'd you stay, get your face all tattooed and believe in all that 'Lost Glory' crap. It's not like any of that can be real."_

"_Says the woman who barely believes in the god she's chosen."_ Rajmael replied sardonically. _"I don't wear the vallaslin to distinguish myself from other elves, I where it to honor the god I have chosen to follow. And just so you know, the Dalish are people, too."_

"_But why believe in any of it? Doesn't seem to do anyone any good."_ Sera practically whined.

"_That's the meaning of faith, Sera."_ Rajmael answered. _"Faith is not some kind of insurance you fall back on, and use as an excuse to make yourself feel better or superior. And it seems between the two of us, my faith is more concrete than yours."_

"_Whatever."_ Sera scoffed. _"I know arrows, and I know baddies that need arrows sticking out of 'em, and you're the one leading the fight against 'em. That's real and what matters. So let's just work with that, deal?"_

"_Whatever helps you sleep at night, Sera. But I know what I believe, and what I'm here for."_ Rajmael said with confidence. _"Food for thought."_

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael looked for Solas and was not surprised to find him in the library, but was incredibly surprised to see the older elven mage painting the rotunda. And it was magnificent. He was using a oil paints to depict with his fingers and a specially made cloth to depict the mural's meaning. There were several murals depicted on the wall in bright and dark abstract colors. One was of the Breach tearing the sky apart, another was the image of a mage standing faceless and alone with serpents crawling up one side. The last one depicted a dark shadowy figure with clawed hands spiraling around a sphere as it stood before a burning temple: this was Corypheus' attack on Haven. Rajmael hadn't seen this style of elven art since before Evanura died.

Solas noticed the Inquisitor staring at the mural's with his mouth ajar while he was cleaning his hands. "The inquisitive mind must have a hobby, to occupy the hands and provide a positive outlet." Solas explained. "What do you think Inquisitor?"

"_This is magnificent!"_ Rajmael marveled. "_This is Elven styled fresco! Where did you learn it?"_

"_I'm surprised you know what it is."_ Solas complimented_. "Even amongst the Dalish this is a rare art form."_

"_Evanura, my clan's best swordfighter, studied this art form."_ Rajmael replied_. "She said it unveiled the truth through elven eyes."_

"_Well, she sounds like she had a vibrant soul."_ Solas commented. _"I learned this art medium from spirits in some of the ruins I explored. And as much as I like a complimentary critic, I don't think you came here to speak of artistic mediums."_

"_No I didn't."_ Rajmael confirmed. _"I came here to ask you for something."_

Solas quirked an eyebrow curiously. _"Oh? And what could I give you that you cannot with your new title?"_

"_Knowledge."_ The Inquisitor answered firmly. _"You know more about the ancient secrets than anyone else in the Inquisition, you've _seen_ them in the Fade! I need to know exactly what we are dealing with. What Corypheus is, the power he commands. That Orb he wields. These are things I _must_ know, and you're the only one who can give me any answers."_

_"Very well, Inquisitor." _Solas relented. The younger elf wanted, needed answers. And he was the only one who could provide even the tiniest glimpse into their enemies true nature. _"In the time of the Elvhenan Empire, the elven gods would communicate with the People at certain places through certain rituals. These sites became temples, and the men and women overseeing them became priests. And within the most sacred of these ancient temples, guarded by legions of deathly loyal worshipers were objects of immense power that channeled the power of our gods throughout the empire. Objects like the Orb that Corypheus carries."_

Rajmael shook his head in frustration. _"The ancient empire was gone centuries before Corypheus was even born. How could he have gotten his Blight-ridden hands on such a powerful artifact?"_

Solas turned his head away from Rajmael and looked up at the fresco he had painted of Corypheus' attack on Haven with a bitter grimace on his face._ "As you are no doubt aware, Tevinter was built on the ruins of the Elvhenan Empire. They stole our great relics and knowledge for their own, and even claimed that such knowledge was given to them by the Old Gods. It is the same with Corypheus. He may think that the Orb is Tevinter in origin, but it is, and has always been elven. Like most power that Tevinter claimed was theirs."_

_"Do you truly think that Corypheus is what he claims to be? One of the Magisters who entered the Fade and started the Blights?"_ Rajmael asked seriously. _"Could he have used the ancient knowledge of our people to infiltrate the Dream World?"_

Solas turned to face Rajmael with an equally serious look, but with something else behind his eyes. Pain? _"He is a power hungry despot from a long forgotten time built upon slavery, blood and deception. Then as now, he is meddling with forces he does not truly comprehend without any care for the consequences. And now...he seeks to resurrect the world he helped destroy by eradicating this one and establishing himself as its new god. That is all he is. And whatever religious or historical implications his existence may have pale in comparison to the damage Corypheus will do."_

**~XoXoXo~**

After getting Solas to agree to teach him, Rajmael decide to take a moment to enjoy the library. The Inquisitor stood in awe by how such a large tower was dedicated to housing books, and was further impressed by how many there were. Great Dirthamen. Rajmael had never seen so many books and was decided to take a moment to inspect what they had.

Rajmael just pulled the first book right off the shelf and didn't even bother to look at the title he began skipping through the pages until he saw an excerpt that caught his eye. _A Complete Study of Elven Rituals &amp; Customs._

"_Oh, I wouldn't, Inquisitor."_ Dorian chirped from behind him. _"That one's full of Orlesian propaganda, and racist superstition." _The Tevinter mage handed out another book. _"I'd try this: The Pursuit of Knowledge by Brother Genetivi. There's some facts worth knowing in there."_

Rajmael took the tome and noticed how intently Dorian was scanning the various books and tomes that filled the shelves. _"Looking for anything in particular?"_

"_Looking for anything that may tell us anything about the Elder One and his charming pet."_ Dorian answered.

"_You think the dragon that blew up our base was charming?"_ Rajmael asked sarcastically.

"_Oh, don't you know? We Tevinters love dragons to death, we make statues of them, stitch them on our clothing, we even used to worship them."_ Dorian's face became unusually grave. _"Then one of those ancient dragon worshipers shows up, out of the blue, and kicks your little base into dust like an ant hill. All those stories about my countrymen breaching the Fade and bringing the Blights to the world was true. We destroyed the fucking world."_

"_Last I looked the world isn't destroyed yet, Dorian."_

"_But not for a lack of trying, and Corypheus wants to pick up where he and my ancestors left off."_ Dorian said with pain in his voice. "_And I have no doubt there's no shortage of my own countrymen lining up to join him."_

"_Why would anyone want to join something so abominable?"_

"_Everyone back home remembers back when we used to rule every corner of Thedas and will do anything to bring that world back, but what they don't realize is that it was our ancient glory that brought us to the state we're in now in the first place."_ Dorian explained fervently. "_And now an ancient darkspawn magister with magicks that haven't been seen in a thousand years and promises of glory and godhood. So once again, the world will be brought to ruin by Tevinter hands."_

"_I don't know about that Dorian."_ Rajmael answered. _"If we succeed, the world will have been saved by the aid of Tevinter hands."_

"_If only more people back in Tevinter would see it that way."_ Dorian sighed. _"Alexius and I used to about changing Tevinter from the inside over a glass of port every night after a long day of experimenting. He taught his son to believe in the same ideas. But when Alexius' wife was killed by darkspawn on route to Hossberg and Alexius contracted the Blight, Alexius was the first magister to join the Venatori's cause. Sometimes I wonder if I should even bother. No one will thank me for this because of who and what I am. No one will thank you either, you know. No offense."_

"_If I cared about what anyone else thought about me, I wouldn't go around barefoot with tattoos on my face." _Rajmael answered with a smile on his face.

"_Ha! I knew there was something I liked about you." Dorian chuckled. "If only Alexius saw it this way. I know Felix would have."_

"_Wait right here and give me a moment."_ Rajmael bid as he walked back down stairs. He came back a few minutes later and handed Dorian a very familiar weapon. It was an ancient staff forged of purest steel with intricate runes and serpentine designs etched into the shaft. The bottom end of the staff was a straight-bladed spear head with a crescent blade at the base of the spear. The head of the staff was in the shape of a crescent with a flame shaped tip in the middle and a hooded skull stamped on it. And there was an inscription etched down the shaft_: Feel Toth's blessing fill your soul, and feel his strength in your hand. The Old God of Fire has bestowed his gift to all mortals. Fire is life. Fire is destruction. Fire is power. Let Toth's followers wield his flame, and let his enemies burn in it._

"_I recognize this staff."_ Dorian confirmed. "_It was Alexius'. House Gereon descends from the Dreamers who served Toth, the Old God of fire, and this has been in their possession for centuries. Alexius intended for Felix to wield."_

"_And now you will."_ Rajmael insisted. _"Don't focus on the memory of what destroyed your country, but wield the memory of your friend, and your mentor, and the ideas that you dreamed of. Because now it is up to you to carry that torch."_

Dorian took the staff and felt its power surge through his arm and throughout his body as the staff's head burned with power. _"Yes. I understand what you're saying. And if I don't carry on, everything Felix and his father believed in will have been for nothing."_

"_Wield your friends' memory and dream for a new Tevinter, and use it to burn Corypheus and all his Venatori suck-ups into ash." _Rajmael finished with a smile.

"_And I will at that!"_ Dorian laughed as turned back to the books on the shelf. _"Oh, and congratulation on the promotion by the way. I gave Josephine the names of a few contacts in the Magisterium, with any luck, we'll get some more modern-minded Tevinter support against Corypheus."_

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael decided to see what Vivienne was up to and was not surprised were she had taken residence. She had moved all of her belongings to the floor above the throne room that overlooked everyone the throne and all of the agents of the Inquisition. Figures she'd want to place herself above the rest.

When he had gone greet her, Rajmael found men moving his furniture out of his quarters. When he asked the movers what they were doing, they told him his bedding had become infested and noticed that Vivienne had a slight smirk on her face. Now Rajmael always enjoyed a good prank, being quite the prankster himself back with his clan giving Keeper Deshana reasons to lecture him, but from Vivienne? This was new.

"_What's this all about, Vivienne?"_ Rajmael inquired.

"_I have no idea what you mean, my dear."_ Vivienne replied in furiously arrogant tone of hers_. "You the Inquisitor whom saw fit let loose unsanctioned on the world without the appropriate over sight."_

"_Sanctioning mages, as you so put it, is what caused the mages to rebel to begin with."_ Rajmael argued.

"_And now all the malcontents who do not wish to wield their magic appropriately now have an excuse to join the Inquisition, filling the ranks with mages whom are far more susceptible to falling to possession and harming this organization's cause. Hardly an improvement, darling."_

Okay, he was getting really tired of this woman contradicting him at every turn, and being an all-around bitch. It's time to remind Madame de Fer of her place_. "Who's the malcontent, Enchanter? You're the only one who's on board and not enjoying the cruise."_

"_Perhaps it's because I know the ship is doomed to sink." _Vivienne retorted.

"_Oh? And I suppose you know all about how the malcontents, as you call them, should be treated. What the fuck do you know?"_

"_A great deal more than you, Inquisitor."_ Vivienne seethed_. "Unlike you, I didn't spend my life hiding in the woods, far from the civilized world."_

"_Civilized? Says the woman who lies and whores herself to get what she wants."_ Rajmael saw her eyes twitch slightly. He was starting to get to her. _"Tell me Vivienne, what fraternity where you apart of prior to the dissolvent of the Circle?"_

Vivienne paused for a moment. _"I wasn't a part of any fraternity. My association with the Orlesian court often kept me away."_

"_Ah, I see. Then where were you when the Mages officially gathered to discuss the events and mistreatment of the mages in the Kirkwall Circle?"_

That glare of Vivienne's became more intense. _"I was attending matters at court."_

"_Oh? Okay, then. Um, where were you when all the Fraternities of Magi conveyed in the White Spire, in the very heart your precious Val Royeaux, when they all decided to break away from the Chantry?"_

Rajmael could now feel her glare trying to burn a hole through him_. "I was…."_

"_I know where you were, and who you were doing, Vivienne."_ Rajmael hissed_. "You were never apart of a Fraternity, you never took part in any the Circle's politics, you weren't even there when the most important decision in the Circle's history was decided! And now, after never having anything to do with the Circle of Magi, you think you know what's best for mages? Don't make me laugh!"_

"_And you think that you know what's best? You're sympathetic and limited thinking will undo any good this Inquisition accomplishes."_ Vivienne gritted through her teeth. _"I was loyal to the Circle, and earned my standing in the world, you were merely blessed by circumstance, by your own admission."_

"_Don't try to play the insightful mage bit with me, Vivienne."_ Rajmael chuckled. _"You have to dedicate yourself to something for that. When I first heard of you, I thought Madame De Fer was someone great, someone worthy of recognition, but then I realized you're just another shemlen. Selfish, arrogant, and full of vanity. You're antiquated way of thinking is no longer the way of things. You are irrelevant to the world you now live in, Vivienne. So you can stand in line or stand aside, but don't stand in my way." _Rajmael's eyes began to glow dangerously with power._ "And don't ever try to fuck with me. I'll burn you so badly Andraste will feel sorry for you. Dirthara-ma benal-enaras, tel na emahl'a vhenan."_

"_Such as rustic elven phrase." _Vivienne sneered._ "Whatever is it supposed to mean?_

Rajmael smiled sinisterly at the Grand Enchanter._ "I truly hope you find out." _Vivienne just sat on her resting chair with a glare so full of hatred, the smile on Rajmael's face grow even wider. The look of her eye twitching with anger was hilarious. _"Oh, and by the way Vivienne I'd consider getting new furniture."_

"_And what's wrong with the furniture I have?"_ Vivienne replied quirking an eyebrow.

Rajmael snapped his fingers and a spark of flame lefts his hands and landed on Vivienne's books and quickly set her furniture and other belongings ablaze. _"Because it's on fire."_ Rajmael finished, not even bothering to look back at the Grand Enchanter as she used an ice spell to douse the flames.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael decided to take a moment for himself and wander the magnificent garden that Skyhold housed. The ground here was fertile with life that one would not expect to find in a frozen mountain range like the Frostbacks. As he stood by himself, comtemplating the flora around him, a pair of elves, a man and a woman, approached him shyly. Their faces were bare, and their approach was timid, so it was very obvious they were city elves, and they seemed to be husband and wife. The woman was carefully holding a bundle in her arms, a newborn baby, she was sleeping gently.

"_E-excuse us, y-your worship."_ The man addressed.

Rajmael raised his hand insistently. _"Please, call me Rajmael."_

"_Oh, o-of course, Rajmael." _The elf stuttered bashfully. _"My name is Endel, and this is my wife Maram." _Maram lowered her head sheepishly while carefully holding her child.

"_We're here as part of the castle's staff and we brought our daughter, Elora, with us."_ Maram informed as shyly as her husband, barely making eye contact with The Inquisitor.

"_Well, you and your family will find no safer place in Thedas right now."_ Rajmael promised with a smile.

"_We were hoping that while we're here that you could bless Elora."_ Endel beseeched.

"_It would be a tremendous honor for our family."_ Maram added.

Rajmael's golden eyes lit up as a smile crossed his face. He hadn't dedicated a child since Eva was born, and since he was the First of Clan Lavellan, he knew the proper rites_. "I would be honored to give a blessing to your baby."_

"_Oh, wonderful!"_ Maram cried softly as she leaned her baby out to The Inquisitor.

Rajmael lifted his hand over the sleeping babe's head_. "Elora. Dalen, tir sulahn'nehn. Ar las enaste'a Mythal, Sylaise, Dirthamen…."_

"_Wait, wait." _Endel interrupted with confusion. _"Wh-what blessing are you giving?_"

Rajmael was equally confused. _"I am bestowing the blessings of the Creators?"_

"_Oh. Well, that's good and all, but we were hoping that you could give our child the blessings of Andaste."_ Maram answered_. "You are Her Herald, are you not?"_

Rajmael felt his heart sink inside his chest. It was bad enough that humans labeled him for a deity he didn't worship, now his fellow elves were asking him for something he didn't know_. "I am sorry, but I cannot give you what I don't have. Please, excuse me."_ Rajmael bowed his head respectfully and motioned the parents and their child to leave him.

"_Was it truly necessary for you to deny them like that, Inquisitor?"_ Mother Giselle asked sincerely. _"Surely your blessing is not so much to ask for from new parents seeking faith?"_

"_They were asking for something I don't possess, something I know nothing of."_ Rajmael answered lividly.

"_They, and many others like them, look to you as they symbol of the Maker's will, Inquisitor."_ Mother Giselle. _"Surely there is no crime in kindling their faith?"_

"_Would you ever bestow the blessings of Urthemiel, or Dumat, upon a newborn baby instead of the Maker's?"_

The Chantry Mother's eyes went wide at the very suggestion, but she maintained her composure. _"No, never."_

"_Then what makes you think I would do the same thing? I cannot put the blessings of another god over my own because it is blasphemy, Mother Giselle."_ Rajmael exerted. _"I have my own beliefs."_

"_I understand that." _Mother Giselle insisted.

"_Do you?" _Rajmael asked almost offended._ "Do you know what a Dalish Keeper is?"_

"_I know that they are the ones who lead your Dalish clans."_ Mother Giselle answered_. "But I know little more than that."_

"_They are more than that."_ Rajmael added. _"Before your kind stole the Dales from my people, the Keepers were the priests in charge of keeping the temples we dedicated to our gods. When you took the Dales from us, the Keepers became the guardians of what precious little of our lore and history we recovered. And I was the first to my Keeper. So for all intents and purposes, I am a priest. And despite what you and the rest of your kind may think, we do have a religion. We're not just dancing around in loincloths around a fire, praying to animal bones!"_

"_I am sorry. I did not mean to cause offense."_ Mother Giselle apologized.

"_Your people's faith is weak, Mother Giselle."_ Rajmael finally spoke his mind. _"You rely on grand temples, and statues, and self-appointed holy titles to inspire and give people faith."_

"_It is not weakness to try inspire and guide the faith of others, a faith that tens of thousands of humans and elves adhere to."_ Mother Giselle defended.

"_They adhere to it because you ram it down their throats and turn against them if they don't."_ Rajmael countered. _"Let me show you something."_ Rajmael reached into his satchel pulled out the little totems of his gods and handed three of them to Mother Giselle. _"These are the tributes of my gods that I use to invoke my faith. They're not gold, or silver, or alabaster like what you use. Just wood, stone and glass, and I made them all with my own hands. Do you know what my parents had?"_

"_What did your parents have?"_ Mother Giselle indulged as she held the little statues between her fingers.

"_Absolutely nothing."_ Rajmael answered emotionally. _"No religious tomes, no statues, or holy relics. Just a prayer they recited every morning and every night, and a couple of poorly made, ancient totems made of worn out rock. They told me that it's only when everyone else tells you that your faith is a lie that you realize it is not, because that's when you find it."_

"_They sound like they were wonderful people."_ Mother Giselle admitted.

"_They were wonderful people, and it destroyed me when I was forced to watch them die because of what they chose to believe."_ Rajmael said with pain cracking his voice. _"So who do you think has the stronger faith, Mother Giselle? The Grand Cleric who sits in halls of marble, protected by her templars and surrounded by adulation, or the little old elf in the alienage who doesn't even speak a word of elven, and recites tales and prayers his grandfather told him, and then passes it down to his grandchildren?"_

"_Matters of faith are never contests, Inquisitor."_ Mother Giselle answered evasively.

"_Really? Seems to me like half the Chantry's history has been nothing but a great, big pissing contest."_ Rajmael responded blithely. _"It's getting late. And I've had my fill of theological rot for today." _

**~XoXoXo~**

Cassandra watched The Inquisitor leave the garden after overhearing his entire conversation with Mother Giselle. She saw the smile on his face when he was bestowing that blessing on the baby, and she saw the sadness in his eyes when they rejected his gods' blessing. Cassandra never took elven beliefs into consideration, or the people who actually value them. She always pitied those who didn't know the light of the Maker, but Rajmael spoke of, and stood by his faith with the dedication and piety of loyal priest. And the Seeker couldn't help but wonder, how many people would actually worship the Maker if the Chantry didn't force them to?

"_It seems every time I try to speak with him about faith and the Maker, I always go two steps backwards."_ Mother Giselle said sadly, knowing that Cassandra was listening. _"But I must admit that his loyalty to his faith is admirable. His gods are fortunate to have him."_

"_He is an admirable man, Mother."_ Cassandra agreed_. "Anyone should be lucky to have him at their side."_

"_Speak with him, Cassandra."_ Mother Giselle insisted. _"He is hurting inside, I know he is. Perhaps, as a companion, you could help him to know his place here."_

"_I'm not even sure I know if I deserve to be here, Mother Giselle."_ Cassandra confessed_. "What right have I to console him?"_

"_You know what it means to serve loyally, to dedicate your life to a cause despite the odds against you without fear or care for what others think."_ Mother Giselle answered. _"Use this as common ground. Perhaps he will be more open to one he fights alongside with, rather than one who lectures him."_

"_I…will try."_ Cassandra conceded.

**~XoXoXo~**

_What am I doing? What am I doing?_ Cassandra thought to herself every step she made up the tower to The Inquisitor's bedroom. She was not the most ladylike of all women, but even she had reservations about going into a man's room unannounced, especially when that room belonged to the Inquisitor.

Once again Cassandra walked in on Rajmael while he was having a private moment. And once again he was completley shirtless, wearing nothing on his upper body except his amber amulet. Maker's breath, she had terrible timing. Cassandra noticed the totems of his gods were standing in a row on his desk with a candle lit in front of them. He must have just finished his prayers.

And once again she failed to hide her presence from Rajmael. _"Is there something I can do for you, Cassandra?"_ The Inquisitor asked with his back turned to her as he looked over the castle near the balcony.

"_I overheard what you said, and thought perhaps you would care to speak of it?"_ Cassandra said with as much confidence she could muster, she was so glad he wasn't facing her. The look she had on her face was probably embarrassing.

"_Which talk? The one I had with Cullen, Sera, or Vivienne? I've had a pretty lecturing day."_

"_The one with Mother Giselle."_ Cassandra answered.

"_Oh."_ Rajmael sighed deeply and full of depression. _"I never wanted any of this. All this reverence, people looking to me like I'm kind of savior, it's just not me. I had hoped that when the Breach was sealed I could finally go home."_

"_I know this isn't what you wanted, Inquisitor. But so long as Corypheus is out there we need you to lead this Inquisition. You're the only one who can."_ Cassandra said assuringly.

"_They don't follow me."_ Rajmael scoffed_. "They only follow that titles that are attached to me. The Inquisitor, The Herald of Andraste."_

"_You don't know that."_ Cassandra insisted.

"_Don't I? Did you know that the elves had a part in the creation of the Grey Wardens?"_

This was unexpected. _"What? I…"_

"_Most people don't. My ancestors contributed knowledge they kept safe since the fall of Arlathan in exchange for the Wardens' aide in liberating my people from the Imperium. But the Wardens swore an oath of neutrality, and their promised aid never came. We had to wait another hundred years and ally with Andraste to get our freedom."_

"_And Andraste promised you the Dales. I remember."_ Cassandra added.

"_Many did not survive the long journey to Halamshiral. And when the Second Blight occurred my people chose not to help. We still remembered how no one came to our aid against the darkspawn, and we were still rebuilding our culture. We didn't want to lose what precious little we regained, so we stayed neutral. And not a hundred years later, the Chantry broke Andraste's promise, and stole our land from us, while stripping our people of our culture, saying that our greatest sin was denying the Maker, that we needed to be purified. And then they just gave our land away to the Orlesian Empire, like it was some trinket to be bartered, like Andraste's promise meant nothing."_

Cassandra couldn't help but feel guilty as he spoke of his people's sad history. She had always spoke of justice, and lived to serve it, but never considered those that the Chantry wronged. And she acted no different when she first met him. How could she be so blind? _"What has been done to your people was terrible, I know. I wish I could do more than apologize."_

"_If the people out there knew I was just Rajmael Lavellan, First of Clan Lavellan, the thousands of faithful would not even bother with me. No one would follow a pagan heathen."_

"_That isn't true."_ Cassandra answered. Without thinking, she stood next to him, and placed her hand on his. _"I would follow you, and many others would, too. I have seen who you truly are when you stood in the Hinterlands, liberated Redcliffe and faced the Elder One. No matter what name you call your higher power, I would follow you, and no one else."_

Rajmael held Cassandra's hand and squeezed it gently. _"Why would you follow me, Cassandra? Even though I could never share your faith?"_

Cassandra felt her heart thud in her chest, and let the truth slip out. "_Because…you're the best man I've ever met. I have feared you since the moment we first met, I've known anything like it. But I could never have accomplished the things that you've done."_

Rajmael longingly pressed her hand against his cheek_. "When you found me in the snow, Cassandra, I thought you were the goddess Andruil. No other creature alive could be so strong and beautiful. I…don't want you to fear me, Cassandra. Not you."_

Cassandra felt her cheeks burning when she recalled that moment. The heat from his face traveled from her hand and through her whole body. Her heart raced insider her chest and her knees felt weak. During all her years of training, action became instinct, no thought required. And now there was no thought, no care any longer, Cassandra could only act on what she felt. His golden eyes met hers as she brought him into a gentle kiss.

Rajmael reciprocated Cassandra's kiss as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to him. Cassandra wrapped her arms around Rajmael's neck and deepened their kiss even further, she could feel the wieght of his body pressing against her. Warmth and electricity filled her whole being as he held her close to him. Cassandra felt her heart skip a beat when Rajmael boldly pressed his tongue against the entrance of her mouth, she gladly accepted him. The two lovers drank deeply of each other's as their tongues danced in heated passion and desire.

A few minutes later the two found themselves completely naked on Rajmael's bed. Cassandra didn't care how soft the bed was, she could have been on the floor for all she cared; all she cared about was how wonderful Rajmael's body felt against hers. She loved the way the waxy texture of his scarred body felt against her flesh, how his bare chest grinded against her breasts as he planted his kisses on her neck and collar bone.

Cassandra hardly ever took the time to notice how attractive elves were as a whole, and Rajmael was beautiful. She loved the way his skilled hands explored every inch of her body, and how his kisses left a burning warmth behind on her skin. All her life, Cassandra rarely allowed herself to know the full pleasures of being a woman, and Rajmael was showing her how blissful those pleasures could be. She couldn't help but think about how many of the other members of House Pentaghast would die from shock if they knew she was sleeping with an elf. The very thought of it made her giggle involuntarily. Her giggles turned into moans of pleasure as Rajmael planted his fervent, hungry kisses between her breasts.

It had been years since a woman elicited this kind of passion from Rajmael. Ever since Evanura was killed he never thought he'd feel this way about another woman, let alone a human. Cassandra's body was strong and athletic, not a trace of fat to be found on her body, save for her perfectly formed and wonderfully soft breasts. He hungrily kissed the valley between her cleavage as his hands firmly squeezed and stimulated her breasts. Rajmael heard his lover's breath become more erratic as he gently bit his teeth around her areola while his tongue flicked her nipple. Cassandra's long, smooth legs wrapped tightly around his waist and held him closer to her, the feeling of her smooth flesh was like heaven against his burn scars.

Amidst the throes of passion and carnal pleasure that Rajmael's oral assault on her breast brought her, a very naughty thought crossed Cassandra's mind. With her lover held tightly between her legs, Cassandra rolled him off of her and straddled his waist. Cassandra gave Rajmael an unusually sly smile that made him shudder in anticipation. Cassandra slowly glided her skilled, dexterous hands down his chest and felt the strong, highly toned muscles beneath his scarred flesh. Maker's breath, his body was strong. She didn't know mages could possess such wonderful muscles. An excited gasp escaped Rajmael's lips as he began to feel what Cassandra was actually doing to him.

Rajmael had never felt anything like this during sex before, granted he never slept with a Seeker before. She was using her abilities as a Seeker to ignite the lyrium in his veins. It filled him with a carnal warmth and increased his desire a hundred-fold. Cassandra was actually using her Seeker abilities as an aphrodisiac, and it was working. Unable to hold himself back any longer, Rajmael pulled his lover into fierce and hungry kiss, their mouths savored the exotic taste of one another, as he threw her underneath to take her for himself, and Cassandra gladly welcomed every bit of him into her.

Throughout the whole night, and into the wee hours of the morning, the two lovers rode on waves of carnal desire as they took one night to forget everything around them. Tonight, there was no Corypheus, no Chantry or Dalish, breakings of taboo between the faithful and a heathen. Tonight there was only two people, and the passion they shared for one another. Rajmael and Cassandra consummated their passion until they were completely satisfied.

Hours later the two lovers laid together in each other's arms, covered from head to toe in a sheen of sweat with content smiles on their faces. Cassandra cuddled into Rajmael's chest and rested her head over his heart, listening to his gentle heartbeat as he held her close. It was like decades worth of stress, pent up aggression and absolute need had just exploded into carnal release, and she was with him. Her uncle and half of House Pentaghast would burst into flames from shame and outrage if they found out. Oh, Maker, she was a very happy woman right now.

"_They will say one of two things about me."_ Cassandra sighed contently_. "That I stood at the Inquisitor's side, his protector, and his lover. That it was meant to be. Or they will say I was led astray from the path of faith by the wiles of an elven madman."_

Rajmael smiled and kissed Cassandra gently on the lips. _"I already know all that needs to be said, Cassandra."_ Rajmael took the silver chained, amber amulet with the heart shaped sylvanwood leaf encased in it, and set it around her neck. _"Ma emma vhenan'ara. Ne mar ashara Ar lath. Na sahlin gir ma vhenan."_

Rajmael's words made Cassandra's heart flutter. She didn't understand his words, but she could sense his meaning. _"What does that mean?"_

"_You are my heart's desire. You are the woman I love. And you're the one who holds my heart."_ Rajmael answered with joy in his eyes.

Cassandra felt her heart swell with joy. The one desire she never thought possible had actually come true. Her knowledge of the elven language was poor, but the words she did know would suffice. _"Ma nuvenin, ma vhenan."_

The two lovers embraced once more, not in heated passion like before, but in content acknowledgment of what they truly felt for one another. Cassandra slept happily in the Inquisitor's arms, and for the first time since Rajmael joined the Inquisition, there was nowhere else he wanted to be.

**Language Codex:**

**Andaran atish'an, Elgar:** Elven greeting. Roughly translated, _"Enter this place in peace, spirit."_

**Dirthara-ma benal-enaras, tel na emahl'a vhenan:** Elven curse. Roughly translated, _"May you learn humility, and may it crush your heart."_

**Dalen, tir sulahn'nehn. Ar las enaste'a Mythal, Sylaise, Dirthamen:** Elven blessing. Roughly translated, _"Child of joy, I grant you the blessings of Mythal, Sylaise, Dirthamen, etc._

**Ma emma vhenan'ara. Ne mar ashara Ar lath. Na sahlin gir ma vhenan:** Elven endearment. Roughly translated, _"You are my hearts desire. You are the woman I love. And you are the one who holds my heart."_

**Ma nuvenin, ma vhenan:** Elven endearment. Roughly translated, _"As you wish, my heart."_


	12. Some Personal Issues

**Some Personal Issues**

Cassandra eyes gently fluttered open from her first undisturbed sleep since before the she was sent to find Hawke. She was still resting in Rajmael's arms, and took a moment for herself to admire how peaceful his face looked as he slept. Cassandra never felt this way about anyone, even Regalyan. Regalyan would always have a special place in her heart, but Rajmael was truly the man she felt she would always love. Never in a thousand years would she have thought that would find peace in the arms of an elf, but here she was, and she didn't want to be anywhere else. Cassandra decided to take a few more minutes to be selfish and cuddled closer into Rajmael's chest and enjoy this little bit of peace for herself, the world could last a little longer without them.

**~XoXoXo~**

The War Councilors were standing in the War Room coordinating several militaristic, political and espionage with Varric, Iron Bull and Vivienne, each contributing their respective skills and resources to the efforts of the Inquisition. Earlier Cassandra walked in and observed their progress before leaving to attend to the other matters of the Inquisition. The others in the War Room noticed something strange as the Seeker entered and left.

"_Does Seeker Pentaghast seem…different this morning?"_ Josephine finally asked.

"_Yeah."_ Varric confirmed_. "I didn't feel like she'd snap into a murderous rampage and then slam me against the table."_

"_A lot less…pent up." _Iron Bull agreed.

"_And did you notice the little spring in her step as she walked?"_ Leliana giggled. _"Wonder where she found that?"_

"_Oh, I can think of a few ways."_ Iron Bull answered suggestively.

"_What are you all talking about?"_ Cullen asked rather confused_. "The Seeker seemed perfectly fine to me."_

"_All I know is that I haven't seen such an aggressive woman look like that since…."_ Realization hit Varric square in the face. _"Since Guard-Captain Aveline returned from her honeymoon in Orlais. Shit, no wonder Cassanda didn't seemed so stressed today."_

"_Hmm. Yes. I understand completely."_ Josephined giggled under her hand.

"_Well, I don't." _Cullen stated. _"What are you all talking about?"_

"_So who do you guys think was the brave enough to break in her mustang?"_ Iron Bull chuckled.

"_Oh, come on, Tiny! Isn't it obvious?"_ Varric asked rhetorically.

"_I thought it was odd seeing her walking from the Inquisitor's bedroom so early in the morning."_ Leliana stifled her laughter.

"_No!"_ Josephine gasped_. "When was this?"_

"_So she has a place in the Neverran royal line of inheritance, served as Right Hand of The Divine, and now she's decided to move on to the Inquisitor?"_ Vivienne asked with an undercurrent of distaste. _"A well-played political maneuver, for I surely can't see why anyone else, least of all the Seeker, could stand the man's presence."_

"_Oh, I don't know." _Leliana added with a prurient smile. _"The air of the taboo certainly has appeal."_

"_And the fact that he's Dalish certainly makes it seem more…exotic."_ Josephine giggled.

"_Will someone please tell me what you're all talking about?"_ Cullen insisted. _"I feel like a stranger surrounded by people who speak a foreign language."_

"_The Seeker and the Inquisitor are polishing the brass trumpet, Curly."_ Varric finally answered.

"_What?"_

"_You know."_ Iron Bull insisted lecherously. _"Sheathing the sword under the bedsheets."_

"_Sheathing the sword? Were they sparring?"_

"_Cassandra and Rajmael are having sex!" _Varric finally clarified.

"_And are enjoying it, judging from how happy Cassandra seems."_ Josephine added.

"_Oh, Maker's Breath!" _Cullen cursed incredulously_. "This is supposed to be the War Council! Not a gathering of gossiping fishwives! Don't have anything better to do?"_

"_Good point, Curly."_ Varric agreed_. "I'm out of here."_

"_This meeting's lost its flavor."_ Iron Bull stated.

Vivienne followed after them_. "I have matters of court that need tending."_

"_And I have to look over my agents' reports."_ Leliana confirmed.

"_I have a thousand diplomatic issues to overlook before midday."_ Josephine said as she crossed off her clipboard.

Cullen was now all alone in the War Room. Suddenly the idle gossip didn't seem so bad. Oh, well. Time to plan troop movements.

**~XoXoXo~**

It had been merely a week since the Inquisition had settled in Skyhold and already things were moving very fast, and they began to reach almost every corner of Thedas. Rajmael was currently in a War Council meeting with his advisors and they were talking about the latest mission Leliana's agents had just completed.

"_This truly is a magnificent piece."_ Cullen said marveling at the sword.

"_Of course it is."_ Josephine confirmed. _"It is, after all, an ancestral weapon of the Theirin royal line."_

The sword's name was Avenger. It was of Alamarri design and despite being over three centuries old it was still as sharp as the day it came out of the forge, a weapon worthy of the Fereldan Monarchy. Rajmael read in King Alistair's letter the history of the blade, how it was originally Lady Shayna's, King Calenhad's champion, general, and one time lover. Calenhad had given it to his wife, Queen Mairyn as a way to heal the rift between them and it has been in the family ever since.

Rajmael held the weapon in his hand for a moment and took a few practice swings. The sword fit in his hand like mold and as light as feather yet strong as an oak tree_. "Is the King truly willing to depart with such an amazing weapon?"_

Leliana waved her hand nonchalantly. _"My spies were able to root out all Venatori agents that had infiltrated his staff and household. Believe me, he sent this weapon, and his regards as for our service."_

Rajmael couldn't deny that. Who knows what harm Corypheus could've done if he managed to assassinate, or worse, influence the Fereldan Royals? Rajmael decided he would give this sword to Cassandra, knowing she'd make great use of it.

"_To other matters at hand."_ Cullen anounced. _"We still don't know what Corypheus want's with these ancient ruins"_

Cullen mentioning that made Rajmael's mind drift back to the Forbidden Oasis and The Western Approach. The ruins in the Oasis were certaintly of Elvhen origin, but why were the Red Templars waiting there and why did it take the skull fragments of Tranquil to open their doors. The only thing waiting behind each door was a powerful demon, was Corypheus hoping to bind them somehow? The ruins in Western Approach, however, were definitely Tevinter in origin. Apparently some ancient Tevinters were experimenting with time travel magic like with what Alexius did but were unsuccessful and only unleashed demons upon themselves and managed to keep time still. That is until the Inquisition arrived and wiped them out.

"_One thing at a time here, Commander."_ Josephine addressed. _"It's entirely possible that the Elder One is seeking out these ancient ruins to rediscover old and forgotten magicks. Something like that could only be a boon to him."_

Rajmael thought for a moment. _"Yes, but the Ancient Elves of Arlathan far predate the ancient Imperium. I think he's trying to discover a replacement for the anchor, or something to augment the power of the one he already has."_

"_Well, that's last thing we need."_ Cullen commented. _"What should we do about it?"_

"_Josephine."_ Rajmael started. _"I want you to get in touch of with all of your contacts and associates and ask them to keep an ear out for anything having to do with old ruins, even if it's the slightest of rumors." _

"_Of course, Inquisitor."_ Josephine answered while jotting it down on her clipboard.

"_If we do manage to hear anything, Leliana, send what agents you can to secure them and make sure that the Red Templars don't get to them first."_

"_I understand."_ Replied the Spymaster.

"_Speaking of the Red Templars…."_ Cullen continued. _"There's another issue that needs to be addressed."_

"_Go one, Commander."_ Rajmael said.

Cullen gave a quick sigh_. "It seems that no matter how many we kill there always seems to be more to take their place. We need to find the source of their Red Lyrium and destroy it."_

"_I already know what their source is, Cullen."_ Rajmael answered grimly. _"Red Lyrium is harvested from the bodies of living people."_

"_Sweet Andraste!"_ Cullen gasped while Leliana and Josephine had looks of forlorn and shock on their faces. _"That means that somewhere out there that bastard Samson has whole herds of people imprisoned for sole purpose of making lyrium out of their bodies!"_

"_I've seen how it's done in that future Dorian and went to."_ Rajmael continued_. "It's a painful and horrible death."_

"_I always knew Samson had sunk low."_ Cullen snarled. _"But even I can't believe how much of a bastard he is, to turn living people into…into fuel!"_

"_Cullen, what can you tell us about Samson?"_ Leliana asked.

"_We used to share a barrack…"_ Cullen started. _"And back then I always thought he was a decent man. When Knight-Commander Meredith cast him out of the Order he became a beggar on the streets. I heard that he got on by assisting apostates fleeing Kirkwall for Lyrium or gold, or whatever it was that he was itching for."_

"_Gone from scum-sucking beggar to ass-kissing general."_ Rajmael stated blithely. _"Progress!"_

The council gave a small laugh but Cullen continued. _"What I don't understand is why has Corypheus made Samson of all people his leading General? Samson was never the best of warriors and was most certainly never a leader. He didn't have either the charisma or the power of command."_

"_Probably because Samson has shown the Elder One the most belief, the most reverence. And that's something that god's are supposed to reward."_ Rajmael answered.

Cullen pondered that answer. _"It's also possible that Corypheus is also fueling Samson's ego, making think that he is more powerful than he actually is. Samson can use the power that Corypheus and the Red Lyrium gives him to attract more followers. If it can turn someone as pathetic as Samson into the right hand of a supposed god what else can it do for them?"_

"_All of this is despicable and all."_ Leliana interjected. _"But where are we supposed to find their Lyrium supply?"_

"_It could be anywhere in Thedas."_ Josephine answered. _"But I think the most likely place is somewhere in Orlais."_

"_How do you figure?"_ Rajmael asked.

"_The Marches are too far from their goal and Ferelden, while weakened it is united and the Knights of Silver Order was founded by Aedan Cousland for the sole purpose of patrolling Ferelden's borders. Orlais, on the other hand, is divided by civil war and many lords are left on their own. So the Red Templars could take over any of the unsupervised provinces and force the people into their servitude."_ The Ambassador explained.

Rajmael put a grim look on his face. _"It's also possible that they are capturing refugees fleeing from the wars."_

The Inquisitor and the other advisors took a moment to think on that until Rajmael decided to break the ice. _"If that's the case we should set out patrols to look for any provinces that seem out of order."_

"_Easier said than done."_ Leliana rebuked. _"The Orlesian provinces are still fighting one another over the throne's succession, the rifts could hinder us in our search, and Orlais is still the largest kingdom in Southern Thedas."_

"_Cullen, send out our scouts to every province they can get to that's besieged, not only by the rifts but by Red Templars."_ Rajmael commanded.

"_At once!"_ Cullen responded.

"_If they see any Red Templars, they are not to engage."_ The Inquisitor continued. _"They are to send a raven and wait for me to rendezvous."_

Rajmael turned over to Leliana_. "Leliana, send what agents you can to Kirkwall and have them find out what they can about Red Lyrium, and report it back as soon as possible. No detail is too minor."_

"_Understood."_ Leliana replied.

"_Josephine, have your contacts send out a message for relief efforts for the war refugees sponsored by the Inquisition. This will prevent Samson's forces from making victims of people fleeing the wars, and make sure that the efforts have guards in case Red Templars do show up."_

"_I'll begin sending messages immediately."_ Josephine confirmed as she jotted a note down on her clipboard.

The meeting was adjourned and everyone cleared out of the War Room to tend to their duties. All except Cassandra, who continued to stare intently at the War Table. The way she glowered at it you'd think it insulted her.

It had been a week since the Seeker and the Inquisitor began their relationship, and they delighted in each other's company every day. Rajmael was used to Cassandra being ornery, but this was different. Something was really bothering.

"_Is something troubling you, ma vhenan?"_ Rajmael asked as he gently grabbed her hand.

"_I can't hide anything from you, apparently."_ Cassandra sighed as she held her lover's hand.

"_You don't have much _to_ hide from me anymore, Cassandra."_ Rajmael chuckled.

Cassandra blushed slightly, but maintained her composure. _"We saw so many Red Templars at Haven. Possibly all that was left of The Order, but I was most surprised that it's this Samson, not Lord-Seeker Lucius, leading them. In fact, we haven't seen any of the Seekers within the Red Templars, or anywhere else for that matter. I believe that Corypheus has imprisoned them."_

"_Corypheus could have just as easily had them killed."_ Rajmael suggested.

"_Not easily."_ Cassandra said warningly. _"But yes, they could be dead. But the Seekers were the ones who started the Mage-Templar War, they have to be involved somehow, they couldn't have just vanished into thin air. I had Leliana send her agents to look and they heard a rumor regard Bann Loren in Ferelden. Bann Loren led the agents to his keep, Caer Oswin, and then they went missing, too. I believe this is the lead I've been looking for."_

"_This really means a lot to you, doesn't it, Cassandra?"_

"_I have dedicated my life to the Order, and then I left it after the Seekers abandoned their oaths."_ Cassandra lamented. _"But even so, I can't just abandon them. It is my duty to save whoever's left."_

Rajmael understood Cassandra's determination. The Seekers were her brothers and sisters, and she refused to abandon them to the likes of Corypheus.

"_Get the horses and our comrades ready, we'll leave as soon as they are ready."_

"_Thank you so much."_ Cassandra smiled.

**Caer Oswin, Ferelden**

Rajmael and Cassandra arrived at Caer Oswin along with Vivienne, Cole and Blackwall. The castle that the Inquisition agents disappeared in, and where the Inquisitors supposedly were, was large, but in bad shape. In fact, it looked abandoned. Why would they be here of all places?

"_What do you know of this Bann Loren, Cassandra?"_ Vivienne asked.

"_He is a pious man, but his loyalties have always been in question." _Cassandra answered. _"After the Blight, Aedan Cousland wanted him to be tried an executed as a traitor for unlawfully imprisoning one of King Cailan's Honor Guards, but King Alistair decided to spare him since Loren lost his wife and son in the Siege of Highever Castle. He's been out of public sight for years now."_

"_That could mean that he's dead."_ Blackwall suggested. _"Castle's in ruins, the owner's rarely seen or heard from, it'd be easy to kill him and take the place over."_

"_We won't know until we go inside."_ Cassandra stated.

The castle wasn't very well maintained, or well manned. There were no sentries, or even a presentable locked door. The instant they made it inside, they were attacked by men in Templar uniforms but the flaming sword motif on their armor had been crossed off by red paint.

These strange Templars clearly weren't expecting company. Rajmael and his companions made quick work of the ones they found. Rajmael used lightning magic, while Cassandra and Blackwall cut them down, and Cole stabbed them from behind.

"_Promisers!"_ Cassandra spat while plunged her sword into her target and finished him off. _"I should have known they were behind this somehow."_

"_Promisers?" _Rajmael inquired.

"_The Order of Fiery Promise."_ Answered with disdain. _"They're ancient cult that predates the Chantry. They have very twisted ideas about the Seekers."_

"_Twisted how?"_

"_They think they are Seekers, the true Seekers."_ Cassandra answered. _"They think that the only way to save the world, and purge evil, is to burn it all, and from the ashes 'The World Will Be Born Anew.' They think that we usurped their duty, and have hounded us for centuries."_

"_I'm surprised the Seekers haven't stamped them out."_ Blackwall commented.

"_We have, many times."_ Cassandra replied dourly. "_Yet somehow they keep coming back, like weeds or cockroaches, nobody knows how."_

"_Cassandra, dear."_ Vivienne called. _"I think you need to see this."_

They walked over to a makeshift cell and found the body of a man, or at least they presumed it was a man, that had been severely tortured. Fingernails were ripped out, and his legs were broken, and the only reason they couldn't tell if the body was truly male was because his face had been torn off in strips.

"_A Seeker."_ Cassandra confirmed when she saw the Seeker's insignia on the man's armor_. "Did the Promisers torture him to death?"_

"_Yes." _Cole answered._ "Hot knives cut his flesh while hammers broke his bones. I won't submit, I will never forsake the Maker."_

"_The Promisers will pay for this!"_ Cassandra swore.

They navigated their way through the castle and found their way into the castles ruinous courtyard, where the Promisers were meeting with Red Templars. With her suspicions confirmed, and no longer able to hold back her anger, Cassandra charged into the courtyard, summoning down a pillar of purifying light that stunned the all her nearby enemies.

The rest of her companions charged after her. Rajmael swung his sword down through the air and summoned a magical recreation of his own fist from the Veil, and smashed a group of Red Templars to the ground and broke their bodies. Cole disappeared into shadow and dashed from on enemy to the next and plunged his daggers into their heart, necks and faces. Vivienne tapped into the Fade and summoned a small snow storm that froze the Promisers and Red Templars alike, and threw balls of fire from her staff that shattered them into pieces.

With their enemies dead on the ground, Cassandra searched one of the Promisers to see if she could find any clue as to what these two groups were doing together. She found a letter that was given to him by the Red Templars.

"_As the Seekers of Truth are immune to the effect of red lyrium, the Elder One has seen fit to place those who remain in your care."_ Cassandra recited sternly. _"Reclaim your destiny, and know that The Elder One expects your devotion as payment. Signed by Lord Samson, Commander of The Red Templars and General to The Elder One."_ Cassandra shook her head confoundedly_. "Does Corypheus not know that the Promisers want the world to end? What use are they to him?"_

"_He must have sold these Seekers to these cultists to gain their loyalty."_ Rajmael stated.

"_And of course these bastards leapt at the chance."_ Cassandra hissed_. "But this doesn't explain how he captured the Seekers in the first place, or what's even been done with them. We must keep looking."_

"_The letter said the Seekers are resistant to the effects of Red Lyrium."_ Rajmael stated curiously.

"_Our abilities grant us many abilities, but resistance to the Red Lyrium? That is strange."_ Cassandra concurred. _"But it would explain why we saw no Seekers amongst the Red Templars. Which makes me wonder, what happened to those who joined the Lord-Seeker at Therinfall Redoubt? The Seekers are my family, Rajmael. We must find out what's happened to them."_

Cassandra led the others further into the castle, and were met with more resistance from the Order of Fiery Promise. But Cassandra would not be deterred, she would not be stopped. With the Avenger in hand, she cut down every sorry bastard that dared to take up the cause of this heinous cult. Her training and her anger only made this easy for everyone else. The Promisers would fade back into obscurity after today.

The made their way towards the back of the castle through a dark hallway. At the end of it, at the bottom of a flight of stairs, laid a young man dressed in the uniform of a Seeker. He was alive, but in terrible pain.

"_Daniel! Daniel!"_ Cassandra cried as she rushed to him. _"Sweet Maker, what's happened to you?"_

"_C-Cassandra?"_ Daniel groaned.

Daniel's body was convulsing in terrible pain, with blood dripping from his mouth. His skin was deathly pale with sickly red veins snaking under his flesh. Had he been poisoned?

"_Y-you are alive, Cassandra!"_ The young man almost wept.

"_As are you."_ Cassandra said worriedly. _"I'm so glad I found you."_

"_No. They…they p-put a…demon inside of me, Cassandra."_ Daniel wept. _"It's tearing me up…from the inside."_

"_Flesh tearing on the inside, veins on fire." _Cole said cryptically_. "Red Lyrium couldn't poison him, so they poisoned him with something else."_

"_What? You can't be possessed! That's impossible!"_ Cassandra denied.

"_I-I'm not possessed. They fed my…things."_ Daniel answered in pain_. "I…can feel it growing."_

Rajmael could feel this man's pain, and his death would soon follow. _"Cassandra, there's…nothing we can do for him."_

"_No!"_ Cassandra denied. _"There has to be a way! Rajmael, you possess remarkable healing magic. You could do something!"_

"_It's too late for me, Cassandra. There's nothing anyone can do."_ Daniel groaned. _"But listen, you have to find the Lord Seeker."_

"_Of course we'll find him." _The senior Seeker assured. "_If he lives, we'll…"_

"_Lucius betrayed us, Cassandra."_ Daniel moaned. _"He sent us here. One by one. 'An important mission', he said. Lies! He was here with them all along. He's been helping the Order of Fiery Promise all this time."_

"_But we saw Lord Seeker Lucius in Val Royeaux!"_ Rajmael remembered. _"He couldn't have been here."_

"_That wasn't him. What you saw was a demon that the Elder One summoned."_ Daniel answered.

"_What? How can that be?"_ Cassandra asked disbelievingly.

"_Because the Lord Seeker allowed it!"_ Daniel cried. _"He let the thing take command of the Order in Therinfall Redoubt while he did this to the rest of us."_

"_It takes a special kind of bastard to betray his own men."_ Blackwall said hatefully. _"But to do this to one of his own? That's a new kind of low."_

"_And I thought the Seekers were supposed to be the very best of the Chantry's elite."_ Vivienne sighed with disappointment.

Seeker Pentaghast had a look of utter betrayal painted on her face. Rajmael could feel the pain that Cassandra was feeling right now, she came her hoping to save her brothers and sisters, only to discover that they were betrayed by the one she trusted most. _"Cassandra…."_

"_Now is not the time for sympathy."_ Cassandra said determinedly.

"_Wait! Don't leave me like this. Please…."_ Daniel begged.

"_You should have come with me, Daniel."_ Cassandra lamented sorrowfully_. "You didn't believe in the war any more than I did."_

"_You know me, Cassandra. I had to have the big promotion."_ Daniel coughed so hard blood spurted out of his mouth.

"_Rest now, Daniel."_ Cassandra bade as she closed Daniel's eyes for him_. "Go to the Maker's side, and know that you'll be welcome."_ Cassandra stood above her comrade with a look of as she drew her sword. Her face washed with determination as her blade found its way into Daniel's heart and ended his suffering. _"Daniel was my apprentice. I have never known a finer young man. Now let us go find Lord-Seeker Lucius."_

Without shedding a tear, and without any more remorse, she wiped the blood off her blade, and marched forward to meet the man who dared to commit this crime.

Cassandra charged up the flight of stairs and found herself at the outer battlements with even more Promisers waiting for her. Good. She needed something to kill right now. None of these blasphemers had an inkling of what they unleashed when they chose to anger Cassandra Pentaghast of all people. She would show them what angering her meant. She would show them the meaning of wrath.

There was no mercy, no offering of quarter, or even regret in Cassandra's attacks now. All she wanted was to send them screaming into the afterlife. With her sword and shield she broke their bodies and cleaved their skulls. Leaving nothing to chance, Cassandra pierced the hearts and cut off the heads of any and all who fell before her.

There was only one last door, one last courtyard in this castle where the Lord-Seeker could be hiding. Cassandra kicked the door open, and standing before several armed Promisers, and in full Templar armor with the same motif as the rest of them, stood the Lord-Seeker.

"_Lord Seeker Lucius."_ Cassandra hissed with venom in her voice.

"_Cassandra."_ The ugly Lord Seeker greeted somberly_. "With a man who I can only assume is the new Lord Inquisitor."_

"_And you're scum who murdered your own brothers and sisters."_ Rajmael seethed hatefully.

The Lord Seeker was unmoved. _"I presume you know that we Seekers of Truth were once the original Inquisition. Oh, yes. We fought to restore Order long ago, just as you do know, but where has that gotten us? We became proud, sought to remake the world, make it better."_ Lucius' face twisted bitterly. _"And what did we create? The Chantry, the Circles of Magi, a war that will never see an end, all because of the lies had sewn, thy betrayals we committed. Everything we did only brought about more ruin."_

This was not the same Lord Seeker Rajmael insulted in Val Royeaux. This one was calm, collected, and completely aware of what he was doing. He truly believed in the rightness of his actions.

"_And so you aid in Corypheus' evil?"_ Rajmael asked angrily. _"You think this is more righteous?"_

"_Yes. It is better that he burn away the mistakes, and ruin that we've created, instead of letting it continue to poison the world."_ Lucius answered righteously_. "I had to stop what the Seekers were doing if that was to happen."_

"_You murdered Daniel, and everyone else because you hate the Order?!"_ Cassandra asked hatefully.

"_We Seekers are abominations, Cassandra."_ The Lord Seeker reasoned. _"We created a decaying world built on lies and hypocrisy, then fought and killed to preserve our own decadence, even as the wretched world we created crumbled around us. We had to be stopped."_ Lucius reached into his satchel and produced an ancient looking tome with the mark of the Original Inquisition. Lucius tossed it at Cassandra's feet. _"If you don't believe me, see for yourself. The secrets of our Order, passed to me after Lord Seeker Lambert was assassinated. The war with the mages had already begun, but it was not too late for me to do the right thing, for once in my life."_

"_If you think murder and genocide is the only way to peace, then you're the one who deserves to die."_ Rajmael spoke.

Cassandra's face only became angrier as her former comrade spoke. _"Lucius, what you've done here…."_

"_I know."_ Lucius confirmed_. "I've seen what Corypheus has done with the Templars, and it does not matter I have seen the future. I have removed all traces of the Order and replaced it with a new one. The world will end and we can have a pure beginning, just as it was always intended."_ Lucius looked on at Cassandra with hope in his eyes. "_Join us, Cassandra. You could help recreate this world. It is the Maker's will."_

That was the final straw. Rage consumed Cassandra completely; she snarled viciously as she drew her sword on her former comrade. There would be no mercy for him.

Rajmael extended his marked hand towards one of the nearby archers, and a magic claw flew through the air and grabbed him by the throat, and pulled him back towards Rajmael to be impaled on his sword. The man gurgled and screamed as he was dangling on the elven blade. Rajmael launched several deadly rocks from the Fade out his the Anchor and each one lodged into the skulls of several promisers. Solas' teachings were paying off.

Blackwall fought two Promiser simultaneously with his shield and mace. He blocked and evaded their strikes be before knocking one off balance with his shield and crushing his skull with the Thunderstrike. The second one came at him with an axe, Blackwall dodges beneath it and smashed his mace into his opponent's armor and caved his chest in.

Cole was surrounded on three sides by Promisers with swords. They charged the strangely clothed young man in a weird hat, but he disappeared in a puff of smoke. Where did he go? One Promiser fell down dead when a dagger flew out of nowhere and landed right into his eye. A fountain of crimson flew out of another's neck when his coratid artery suddenly opened. The third searched frantically for his invisible enemy. Where was he? A searing pain erupted in his chest, he looked down and saw a dagger stuck deeply inside him, and in front of him was the strange young man. How did he not see him?

Vivienne rained fire and ice down on the Promisers. Several of them foolishly charged her like she was some wayward apostate. She raised her arms and erected a wall of ice in front of her to halt their charge. Then she struck the wall with her staff and the wall exploded into a volley of sharp icicles that flew at the Promisers. Every one of them was soon turned into bleeding little pin cushions with icicles sticking out of their bodies.

Cassandra rained blow after blow down upon Lucius, the traitor who sullied the title of Lord Seeker, and dared call all this blood and murder the Maker's will. The memory of plunging her sword into Daniel's heart and the rage she felt by this betrayal completely consumed her as she viciously struck at her enemy. They both were masters with their Seeker Abilities, so using them in this fight was meaningless. Cassandra wouldn't need to rely on them, Lucius wasn't worthy of being killed by such holy gifts.

Lucius masterfully held his own against the younger seeker. He blocked and countered her every angry swing with devastating skill. He was using a tower shield that completely covered his front, and he used an Orlesian longsword with incredible dexterity and skill to parry Cassandra's attacks. He was not made Lord Seeker for nothing.

But Cassandra would not be beaten. Not by him, not after what he has done. Cassandra thrusted the Avenger right through Lucius' tower shield and right through the arm beneath it. The Lord Seeker cried out in pain, but he wouldn't relent. He brought his sword down on Cassandra's hand, but let go of her sword and left it stuck in Lucius shield and his arm. Lucius vainly tried to strike at her again, but she blocked his blade with her shield and knocked his sword out of his hand before smashing him in the face, and struck him again to the ground.

Unarmed, and badly injured with a sword stuck in his arm, Lucius looked up to his former sister pleadingly. _"Cassandra, listen. You're only repeating our mistake. The Maker…."_

"_**SILENCE!"**_ Cassandra screamed as she brought the edge of her shield down with all the force she could muster on to Lucius' neck and removed his ugly head from his shoulders.

Cassandra stood there in utter silence as she breathed the anger out of her system. She looked down upon her former brother's decapitated body with a look of mixed anger and sympathy as she took back her sword. Cassandra walked over to Tome of The Seeker and picked up off the ground.

"_He was insane. He had to be. The influence of Corypheus perhaps? Was he trying to weaken the Seekers?"_ Cassandra reasoned desperately.

"_Corypheus found someone whose belief was weak, and used it to remove those he couldn't control."_ Rajmael answered. _"He exploited Lucius' doubt, and turned him into a puppet for his cause."_

"_He could not have destroyed all of us. I won't believe it!"_ Cassandra denied. She looked at the tome in her hands with determination in her eyes. _"Come, let us return Skyhold. I must learn what this Book of Secrets tells."_

**Back at Skyhold…**

It had been a whole day since they came back from Caer Oswin and Cassandra practically barricaded herself in the loft above the armory with that book. Rajmael knew that what happened with the Lord Seeker was hitting her hard, and he was starting to worry about her. He went to see how she was doing and found her just staring at the pages of the book with a forlorn face.

"_This book has passed from Lord Seeker to Lord Seeker, since the time of the First Inquisition."_ Cassandra said sadly as Rajmael approached her. _"And now it falls to me."_

"_Dry reading, I take it?"_ Rajmael asked humorously.

Cassandra tried to mirror his humor, but was poor at it_. "On the contrary, it's a delight. I'm truly riveted."_

Rajmael smiled gently at her, and she smiled back, but it was a sad smile. _"Do you know what the Rite of Tranquility is?"_

Rajmael was very aware of what it was, and he hated it. _"It's the reason why my parents didn't want me to be taken to the Circle. No one has the right to rob someone of their soul."_

"_It should only be used on those who cannot control their abilities."_ Cassandra said reasoningly. _"But that…has not always been the case."_

"_It shouldn't be used at all!"_ Rajmael stated. _"You give mages the option of facing down a demon, or you kill them, or you rob them off all sense of living!"_

"_I always thought it was a necessary evil."_

"_There is no such thing!"_ Rajmael asserted. _"Saying something is a necessary evil only leads to even greater evil, and worse abuses."_

"_You may be more right than you imagine."_ Cassandra admitted sadly_. "What finally began the Mage Rebellion was a discovery that proved that the Rite could be reversed. Lord Seeker Lambert tried to cover it up, there were many deaths. It was dangerous knowledge. The shock of its discovery in addition to what happened in Kirkwall…."_ Cassandra realized she was only making excuses. _"But it seems we've always known how to reverse the Rite, from the very beginning when the Order was founded."_

"_This whole war started because of the Seekers' attempt to control people. But when you try to control people with something so awful, all it will ever do is lead to destruction."_

"_Just one more thing that we're guilty of."_ Cassandra confirmed grimly. _"We created the Rite of Tranquility."_

That was a shocking but not surprising fact to learn.

"_I told you of my Vigil, yes? The months I spent in solitude emptying myself of emotion?"_ Cassandra's eyes were filled with hurt and betrayal_. "I was made Tranquil without even knowing. The Vigil summoned a spirit of Faith to touch my mind. That is what gave me my abilities, what restored my mind. The Seekers hoarded that secret for themselves, not even the Divine knew about it."_ Cassandra stood from her seat and stared out the window sorrowfully. _"Lucius was not wrong about the Order. "At first I thought to rebuild the Seekers, no I'm not sure they deserve to be rebuilt."_

"_What else does the book say?"_ Rajmael asked curiously.

"_Eventually, power becomes its own master."_ Cassandra answered dourly_. "Originally, the Rite of Tranquility was not meant to be used on the mages, because it was believed to be abusing the Maker's creations. But we cast aside our ideals for the sake of pragmatism, and told ourselves that it was for the people. And then killed anyone who threatened that goal."_ Cassandra's head hung low with regret. _"Will that happen to us, Rajmael? Will we only recreate the mistakes of our predecessors?"_

"_I can't predict the future, Cassandra." _Rajmael answered_. "I don't know what will happen tomorrow."_

"_But we know the past. And if we don't learn from it, we risk making the future worse."_

It almost broke Rajmael's heart seeing the woman he loved so broken inside. Her faith had been shaken to the core, after dedicating her whole life to the Seekers to do her god's work only to learn that everything she ever served was a lie was a truly terrible betrayal.

Rajmael stood behind Cassandra and wrapped his arms around. _"I cannot decide the fate of the Seekers, ma vhenan. You devoted yourself to the ideals of this Order, you chose to look for your brothers and sisters. And even when the Chantry and the Seekers abandoned the world when it needed them most, you chose to stand by your oath, and protect it. And as far as I'm concerned, you are what it truly means to be a Seeker of Truth."_

It was so hard for Cassandra to think with Rajmael whispering into her ear and kissing her neck. _"You're…flattering me."_

"_Just stating the obvious, ma vhenan."_ Rajmael answered as planted another kiss.

Cassandra turned to face her lover and wrapped her arms around his neck, and he wrapped his around her waist. _"Thank you. I could now have done any of this without you."_ Cassandra pulled his lips to hers and they embraced into a warm, passionate kiss.

Cassandra would rebuild the Seekers once victory was theirs, and she would make them as they were meant to be. But for now, she would focus all her attention on stopping Corypheus, and enjoying the company of the man she loved.

**~XoXoXo~**

A few days ago Sera approached Rajmael asking for some help. Apparently some shemlen lords were were trading blows with each other over land disputes and their small folk got caught in the middle. She asked that Inquisition send soldiers to spook the nobles enough to stop fighting, and then the small folk would stop getting hurt. It seemed like a small enough matter, so Rajmael sent soldiers to stabilize the region.

Earlier Sera informed him that some of her people to meet with her pay Sera for services rendered, and she wanted Rajmael there to receive a cut. Rajmael wasn't all that interested in being paid but, he was interested in seeing how the Friends of Red Jenny operated. Her "friend" instructed them to meet him/her somewhere on the fringes of the Storm Coast, and when they arrived with Iron Bull and Varric, they found nothing.

"_Wait, this is weird."_ Sera finally said.

"_That's one of the first things people say before they realize it's a trap."_ Varric pointed out.

"_What's wrong?"_ Rajmael asked.

"_Put me in a city or a village I could give you a grand tour, but surprise, surprise! I don't do stupid ruins or outdoorsy things."_ Sera answered.

Someone approached them like he was approaching a sleeping bear. A gangly, scared-looking human with red hair. _"Please, don't hurt me!"_ he begged. _"Harmond made me do it!"_

"_What? Who're you?"_ Rajmael asked confused_. "What's going on here?"_

"_Harmond made me come here!"_ The man sobbed. _"He told me to lure her out here, because I said things. It was just tavern talk!"_

"_And of course things have gone wrong."_ Varric sighed.

"_No! If things don't go right, he'll kill me!"_ The man wailed. _"He knows that Red Jenny's been getting in his way, and he wants me to bring her."_

Rajmael looked to Sera wondering if she knew what was happening, but judging from the look on her face, she had no idea either_. "This was supposed to be a simple drop. What's happening?"_

"_You're her, aren't you? You're the one he's waiting for!"_ The man turned around and ran like he stole something. _"It's her! She's Red Jenny!"_ Arrows flew out of nowhere and turned the scared runner into a pin cushion.

"_What the FUCK!?_" Sera screamed.

"_Well, that was crappy."_ Varric commented as armed men ran out of their hiding places towards them.

These men were very run-of-them-mill mercenaries, more suited to scaring peasants and catching thieves rather than handling the elite of Thedas. Sera and Varric shot most of them down quickly and those that got too close were quickly cut down by Iron Bull with his axe.

"_Is that the Inquisition?"_ A well-dressed human asked. _"N-now hold on! There's no reason to fight!"_

Rajmael approached the man angrily with his sword in hand. He could see the fear in this man's eyes, and after seeing his mercs get cut down to size so easily, he didn't blame him.

"_This is all a tragic misunderstanding! Why don't we all just sheathe our weapons and we can conduct this like business!"_ The noble pleaded.

Rajmael gestured to his companions and apprehensively sheathed his sword.

"_See? Now was that so hard?"_ The noble asked smugly. _"Pell Harmond, at your service. I hope you'll continue to respond with reason, after all, your choice of company is hardly virtuous."_

This unarmed, unarmored, finely-dressed turd's arrogance was already beginning to grate Rajmael's nerves so he decided to remind this Harmond of the creek he was swimming in. _"You realize that I can kill you with a mere thought, right?" _He informed.

"_I say you do it, Inquisitor."_ Sera said with contempt_. "This prick's just another noble arsehole that sucker-punches all the little people!"_

"_We are alike you and I, Inquisitor."_ Harmmond continued, ignoring Sera's comment. _"We both need people."_

"_Trying to ambush me isn't a good way to start a sales pitch." _Rajmael stated glowering.

"_I cannot express enough that I wasn't trying to ambush you, Inquisitor. I was trying to rid the world more of these Red Jennies before they caused me any more grief than they already have. Honestly, I think I've done you a favor, it's only a matter of time before that thief hinders you as well."_

"_Bullshit."_ Sera spat. _"This arse pit is filling his pockets by getting people hurt!"_

"_Mind explaining that?"_ Rajmael demanded. _"Before I start exercising my sword arm."_

"_I'm guilty of nothing but bettering my wealth and position. Lady Chelle Morveau and I are both jockeying for the lands of south Verchiel. My men would encourage hers to leave and then she would nudge mine, so on and so forth."_

"_Yeah!" _Sera shouted_. "And everyone else in between gets caught and gets hurt!"_

"_Casualties in a conflict are inevitable."_ Harmmond stated casually_. "I'd think you of all people would understand that, Herald."_

"_Quit talking to this puss-bucket and kick his teeth out his arse already!"_ Sera demanded angrily.

Rajmael felt his temper begin to spike at both Harmmond and Sera. _"But what was the point of killing those people, all they did was make idle gossip!"_

"_Yes."_ Harmmond answered as if nothing was wrong._ "Your Friends of Red Jenny made their complaints a threat, if you wanted your friends and contacts to stay alive you shouldn't have involved them."_

"_THAT'S IT!_" Sera finally exploded_. "I'm going to make this prick wear his smile around his arse!"_

"_Bull, hold her back."_ Rajmael ordered.

"_You got it, boss."_ Bull acquiecesed.

The massive ox-man held back the petite elf while she began spouting out profanities that almost sounded like a new language.

"_There. I knew you were a reasonable man, Inquisitor."_ Harmmond complimented arrogantly. But then Rajmael drew his sword and but it to the miserable shemlen's throat.

"_Get on your knees."_ Rajmael commanded threateningly.

"_N-now, now, my lord."_ Harmmond pleaded whilst obeying the angry elf. _"Th-think carefully, I implore you. W-we c-could make good partners you and I."_

"_Partnering with a miserable shit-brain like you would only demean me, and lower the standards of the Inquisition. Instead of giving these horrible excuses and reasons for what you did to these people you should be begging me not to liquefy your brains from skull and watch it ooze out your ears!"_ Rajmael's eyes glowed with power and his sword was ablaze with veilfire. The sight of him scared the miserable human senseless.

"_Hey, is it just me or does the rain around lord whats-his-face look kinda yellow?"_ Varric pointed out while chuckling.

"_Yeah!"_ Sera yelled out. _"Not so hot shite now, are ya!?"_

"_P-please, p-please, sweet, merciful Herald of Andraste!"_ Harmmond sobbed. _"I'll do anything you want, just please don't kill me!"_

"_Congratulation, Pell Harmmond."_ Rajmael said while sheathing Victory_. "You've just been requisitioned into the Inquisition."_

"_WHAT!?"_ Both Sera and Harmmond demanded.

"_Shut up!"_ Rajmael commanded the two of them. _"Your task will be gaining the rest of the land of southern Verchiel for the Inquisition, without violence. And then you will begin trying to recruit the people of Verchiel for the Inquisition and try to convince them why our Order is the best thing for them, without resorting to coercion or pressing on them."_

Harmmond began to stand back up trying to regain his composure while doing his best to keep his own filth in his trousers. _"Y-yes. I-I swear. You won't regret having me in your ranks."_

Rajmael was not moved. _"If I find out that you're not living up to the standards that I have set, you're going to be…well with things as they are now, a despised local lord disappearing forever won't be the strangest of things._

They all posed for a moment to let Rajmael's orders and threats sink in and Sera had a wide grin on her face going from the top of one pointed ear to the other.

"_You know, the families of the servants you killed and the people caught in your petty squabble deserve compensation for their pain and heartbreak and I'm sure that as a representative of the Inquisition, you'll be more than happy to donate your own wealth, won't you?"_ Rajmael continued while putting on a vicious smile.

"_Yes, yes, of course!"_ Harmmond answered eagerly. _"I'll begin right away!"_

"_I won't have to send my spies to make sure that you do, right?"_

"_Yes…I mean no! No! Of course not."_

"_Now, go on! Get out of here!" _Rajmael snarled and the petty lord scrambled away while tripping over himself.

"_Ewww!"_ Chortled out Sera. _"Now there's a pair of trousers I won't try swiping!"_

Rajmael looked down on Sera seriously. _"Sera, we need to talk, when we get back to Skyhold."_

**Back at Skyhold….**

When Sera returned to her room in the Skyhold Tavern, she knew she was in a bit of trouble when she found the Inquisitor sitting in her room waiting for her. He was smoking that fancy Dalish pipe of his with a serious look in his eyes.

"_Hey, you!"_ Sera greeted in her normal chipper manner. _"How's that Harmond mess? I know I should be mad that you let him live. But it's all good, yeah? His kind hating having to be put on a leash."_

Rajmael said nothing, he just kept puffing the smoke in his pipe.

"_I mean he deserved worse for turning it all bad, but we made it out alright, yeah?"_

Smoke slowly billowed out of Rajmael mouth with a pissed off look on his face. _"You fucked up big time, Sera."_

Sera's face mirrored her outrage_. "I'm sorry what are you on about? Because that sorry excuse for a person was a full vetted arsehole! I didn't do anything to the little people."_

"_You think you can poke a hungry bear in the face and it won't bite back?"_ Rajmael asked rhetorically. _"You didn't think about what the consequences would be, and your people paid the price for it!"_

"_Don't put this one me!" _Sera spat_. "Yes, they got hurt. But who actually hurt them? Who made it necessary to speak out? That noble prick, that's who. And that's just who we flushed out!"_

"_And because you didn't care enough to think this through, your people died, while you still get to run around with your head up your ass!"_ Rajmael yelled. _"What happens next time when you piss off the wrong guy and he decides to get back at you by killing whole families!?"_

"_What you'd rather do nothing?"_ Sera hissed_. "I'm trying help people!"_

"_No!"_ Rajmael denied. _"You're a spoiled brat who just wants play around and line your pockets by stealing from the nobles to make yourself feel better about yourself. You just use helping people as an excuse, but you don't actually care about what happens to them afterwards." _

That last remark actually hit Sera where it hurt. _"Well, I…I…"_ Her hurt look turned to anger to cover it up. _"You know what? Go suck some eggs! I take it back. No, I don't change the world, but that's hard, right? Even for Heralds, or you're lying!"_

"_Every worthy cause is hard!"_ Rajmael yelled. _"You'd know that if you weren't so selfish! And if you don't have the character to understand that, and that your actions have consequences, then you don't deserve to be here!"_

"_Easy to talk down at people when you're the friggin' Herald, ain't it? Well, I'll just hop to it, your arseness!"_ Sera spat_. "Let me just go and find someone to bark me orders and stand around like a prick."_

"_Yeah, go do that, Sera, because it's obvious you can't figure shit out on your own."_ Rajmael seethed. He wasn't backing down to the woman_. "One mistake, Sera! One stupid mistake with other people's lives, and it can cost you everything!" _Rajmael knew that lesson all too well. It cost him those he loved most. _"Grow the fuck up, Sera. I don't __ever__ want to have this conversation again."_

Sera flashed him a nasty look, but said nothing. Rajmael doused his pipe and strode out of the room. He heard Sera scream in frustration as soon as the door was closed, followed by the sound of something made of glass hitting the wall and breaking. Good. Some people just don't listen until you piss them off first.

**~XoXoXo~**

The cold rain bit into Rajmael's bones while the whipping wind lashed at his face. The Storm Coast was as welcoming as always. Not the ideal place for ships to make port, not many would come to these turbulent waters. But that was probably the point, since no one used these shores it made it the best place to secretly launch ships and smuggle Red Lyrium out of the country. As Rajmael, Cassandra and Varric waited int the frigid cold for Iron Bull's contact, he thought back to the reason they were here.

Iron Bull had received contact from his fellow agents within the Ben-Hessrath. Apparently, they didn't like the prospect of an ancient Tevinter Magister and his Venatori cult taking over the world, and they really didn't like red lyrium. They wanted to make sure this stayed out of the Qunari's backyard.

The Ben-Hessrath learned of that was going to happen on the Storm Coast. The Venatori are going to use smuggler ships to sneak red lyrium into Minrathous. The Venatori were dangerous enough as it is in the South, if they could get it into Minrathous, the heart of the Elder One's beloved Tevinter, then the Venatori could have a new base of power far too close to Qunari lands. And that was something that the Triumvirate of the Qun did not want.

The Qunari wanted the Inquisition's aid in stopping this heinous material from reaching the North. They wanted the Inquisitin and the Bull's Chargers to meet with another member of the Ben-Hessrath, and stop the Venatori from shipping off the Red Lyrium. In exchange the Qunari would make a formal alliance with the Inquisition. More Ben-Hessrath reports, use of dreadnaughts, and soldiers of the Antaam pointed at the Venatori. It would be a most advantageous arrangement.

Rajmael didn't fully trust the Qunari. The Qunari would never aid outsiders unless it's for their own gain. Normally, Iron Bull would agree, but this was the first time in the Qunari's history that they were willing to ally with a foreign entity. It could be a major step forward for both groups. So Rajmael agreed.

Despite Iron Bull's solicitation for the aiding the Qunari, Rajmael sensed his reluctance. Iron Bull believed in the Qun and what it does for all people who live under it, but not many people outside of Qunari rule would be accepting of such a radical change. Rajmael believed that Iron Bull was nervous with being reunited with his fellow Qunari after being disconnected with them for so long, perhaps he didn't want to be seen as a qunari in front of his men.

Any longer out in this weather, and they were all going to drown in it. _"How much longer do we have to wait here, Bull?"_

"_Our Qunari contact should be here to meet us soon." _Bull answered.

"_Sooner than you think."_ A strangely armored elf answered. _"Good to see you again, Hissrad."_

Iron Bull's single eye lit up ecstatically_. "Gatt! Last I heard you were still in Seheron."_

"_The Ben-Hessrath have decided that I've calmed down enough to be released back into the world."_ The elf chuckled.

"_Boss, this is Gatt."_ Iron Bull introduced. _"We served together in Seheron. One of my oldest surviving friends."_

"_It's a pleasure to meet you, Inquisitor."_ The elven convert greeted. _"Hissrad's reports say you've been doing good work."_

Rajmael politely nodded his head to the Qunari agent.

"_What's a Hissrad?"_ Varric asked.

"_Oh, that's my title under the Qun."_ Iron Bull answered. _"I was assigned to secret work, so you can translate it to 'Keeper of Illusions', or…."_

"_Liar."_ Gatt answered almost accusingly. _"It means liar."_

"_Well, you don't have to say it like that."_ Iron Bull glowered.

"_I just love being the center of attention."_ Rajmael said sarcastically. _"Especially when people from foreign powers gossip about me in their secret spy reports."_

"_His reports about you are all the rage amongst the Ben-Hessrath. Especially since they aren't really secret."_ Gatt's tone was more accusatory than complimentary.

"_Look, Gatt…."_ Iron Bull spoke.

"_It's alright, Hissrad."_ Gatt waved off. _"Unlike our superiors, I know how it works out here. We both want the same thing. The Tevinter Imperium is bad enough without this Venatori cult and their red lyrium making things worse. We cannot let that stuff leave these shores, it could make the war with Qunandar much worse than it already is."_

"_With this Red Lyrium crap the Vints could make their slaves into an army of magical freaks."_ Bull asserted. _"We could lose Seheron, and then see a massive army made of red lyrium land on Par Vollen."_

"_That's why we're here now."_ Gatt confirmed.

The Venatori had already established themselves both on the shore, and in the hills overlooking the bay. So the plan was simple: The Bull's Chargers would take the shore and stop the Venatori's smugglers from loading the Lyrium and taking out the mages that would be a threat to the incoming dreadnaught, but that put them in range of the mages camped out on the hills. To that end Rajmael and his group would wipe out the mages out in the hills to keep them from attacking the chargers and the dreadnaught. And from there they would signal in the dreadnaught. Seemed simple enough, except it wasn't. Venatori were not to be underestimated.

"_Bull, are you sure you want to go this route?" _Rajmael asked.

"_I don't know, Boss."_ The qunari answered nervously. _"I've seen a lot of shit go wrong while trying to cover a dreadnaught run. It's really risky."_

"_More risky than letting the Venatori ship this stuff to Minrathous?"_ Gatt questioned. _"It's a risky plan, but it's the best way to stop this shipping operation for good."_

"_I'll go give the orders to my men."_ Said Iron Bull. _"Come get me when you're ready."_

Once Iron Bull was out of earshot, Varric started eyeing this other qunari agent. _"So, you're another member of the Ben-Hessrath, huh? The Heart of the Many?"_

"_That's right."_ Gatt answered. _"And you must be Varric Tethras. I've read other agent reports describing a beardless dwarf with an advanced crossbow and an attitude."_

"_Yeah, well, what can I say? Last time I saw an elven agent of the Ben-Hessrath, my buddy Hawke wanted to strangle her to death."_ Varric recalled.

"_We're not that easy to kill."_ Gatt stated as a matter of fact.

"_I'm sure Arishok thought the same thing."_ Varric countered. _"You know, right before Hawke split his skull open."_

"_I get the distinct notion that Iron Bull isn't exactly in high standing with the rest of your organization, Gatt."_ Rajmael surmised.

"_Hissrad said you were observant."_ Gatt answered. _"Our superiors weren't pleased with how forthcoming he was with the Inquisition, it defeats the purpose of being an agent. But he was one of their best agents. Kept the peace in Seheron longer than anyone before, or sense. And besides, the Ben-Hessrath won't discard a tool that still has some use."_

That last bit didn't sit well with Rajmael, and it is part of the reason Rajmael didn't have a high opinion of, or trust the Qun. The Qun saw people only as tools to keep itself functioning, and if a tool was broken they reassigned or discarded it. And if you weren't a Qunari, you were less than that to them. They could only ever use outsiders, never truly ally with them unless they gained more from it.

It was time to get things moving.

"_Alright, men, hit 'em hard, hit 'em fast!"_ Iron Bull urged his men heartily_. "And when this is over, drinks are on me!"_

"_You got it chief!"_ Krem saluted.

"_HORNS UP!"_ The other Chargers cried in unison.

"_Ready to hit the Vints when you are, Boss."_ Iron Bull said readily.

"_Before we go, Hissrad. There's something I'm supposed to give you."_ Gatt informed. The elf opened a crate with a massive battle axe and a helmet resting in it. It was almost as long as Rajmael was tall. The end of the shaft had a spiked mace butt to act as a counter balance and secondary weapon. The axe head long and widened close to the base of the head, made of pure black steel, and the back side of the head had a long, piercing pike to puncture armor. This was most certainly a weapon of devastation.

And the helmet was in the shape of a hornless bull's skull, meant to fit over the face like a mask, and the wearer's horns would fit perfectly in it. It made Bull's appearance much more frightening. The helmet was aptly named "Dread".

Iron Bull held the axe with effortless ease and found an inscription on the axe head. _"Ash-karek tel en Anaan."_ Iron Bull Recited.

"_Find purpose to find victory."_ Gatt translated. _"Something to remind you of who you are."_

Iron Bull didn't know if he should feel vindicated or conflicted that Gatt chose to give him such a weapon. But he accepted it graciously. Ready and eager, they set out to fulfill their task.

They made their way through the tall, rolling hills of the coast towards the Venatori without incident. With sometime to kill before doing real killing the two qunari got talking.

"_You had your men take the low ground, farther from the smuggler ship, and less likely to be heavily guarded."_ Gatt pointed out. _"You gave them the easier target."_

"_Well, then, I guess we're going to need to do the real work. Just like old times."_ The two qunari joined together in friendly laugh.

Varric seemed less than thrilled. _"Not sure I like helping the Qunari out here, Inquisitor."_

"_Not too pleased with our potential allies, Varric?"_ Ramael questioned.

"_Hawke and I have been burned by the Qunari on several separate occasions. Oh, and then there was that time they invaded Kirkwall."_ Varric answered cautiously. He could feel Aveline talking through him_. "I don't think Qunari are capable of real alliances with outsiders. Their kind always comes first, and if you're not one of them, you're either an obstacle or a means to an end."_

Varric's words had some weight with Rajmael, but he wasn't going to act on them. Iron Bull gave his word on behalf of his people, that this arrangement was legitimate, that his people truly meant to ally with the Inquisition. This could be an historic day in the relations between Thedas and the Qunari. He had to put a little faith in this venture.

The Venatori were deeply entrenched in their position. There were over a dozen battlemages and Venatori soldiers holding this hill. Cassandra used her Seeker abilities to disable as many of the mages as she could while Varric and Bianca fired Explosive Shots at them. Rajmael raised his sword above his head and summoned a lightning storm above his enemies that shocked and fried them to death.

Iron Bull and Gatt moved in perfect unison, their movements so intune you'd beieve they were thinking on the same wave pattern. Bull fought with raw power while Gatt moved with incredible speed. If the Venatori moved to attack their bodies were pierced by Gatte, and if they moved to defend they were cut down and slaughtered by Iron Bull. The Ben-Hessrath trained their agents well.

With the Venatori here dead, they moved to signal the Chargers below. Iron Bull looked down on the beach with pride as he saw that his men had already dispatched the Venatori below, and were now lighting their signal.

"_I knew you gave them the easier target."_ Gatt commented_. "Give me a moment and I'll signal the dreadnought."_ Gatt lit a flare that burned red and flew like a star in the sky. Within moments the Qunari Warship came pulling into shore with its signal bell ringing.

"_Ah, damn that brings back memories."_ Bull sighed nostalgically.

The dreadnought spat thunder and lightning from its hull and shot down the Venatori's smuggler ship into an explosion of fire and burning splinters.

"_AH-HA-HA! Nice one!"_ Bull laughed. His joy was cut short when he looked back down to the shore. _"Aw, vashedan."_

An unforeseen force of Venatori reinforcement was moving on to the Chargers. And there were a lot of them, too many for the Chargers to take on their own in an open field. Within minutes the Venatori would be upon the hill the Chargers were holding. The Chargers stood their ground, ready to fight, and to kill.

"_They cannot hold that position! They'll be slaughtered!"_ Rajmael knew the Chargers could get away if they fell back now.

"_I know."_ Bull acknowledged desperately.

"_Your men need to hold that position, Hissrad."_ Gatt reminded.

"_If they stay there, they die."_ Bull responded angrily.

"_And if they don't the Venatori retake that hill, and the dreadnought is dead in the water."_ Gatt responded beseechingly_. "You'd be throwing away an alliance between the Inquisition and the Qunari! You'll be declaring yourself Tal-Vashoth!"_

Iron Bull shot a vicious look at his fellow qunari at the mere mentioning of that word.

"_With everything you've given the Inquisition, half the Ben-Hessrath think you've betrayed the Qun already!"_ Gatt informed sharply. _"I stood up for you, Hissrad! I told them there's no way you could ever become Tal-Vashoth!"_

"_They. Are. My. MEN!"_ Iron Bull shouted with anger and desperation.

"_I know! But you need to do what is right. For this alliance…and for the Qun."_ Gatt begged.

Rajmael didn't know what the Qun considered to be right, and he didn't care. He already knew the right choice. He wasn't losing any more people to the Venatori_. "Pull them back. Now!"_

"_Don't!"_ Gatt cried.

Gatt's plea fell on deaf ears. Iron Bull blew into his war horn and called his men from their position. They watched from the other side of the bay as the Chargers made a safe retreat. The Venatori would not claim their lives.

Relief was painted all over Iron bull as his men got away safely. Gatt, on the other hand, was not happy. At all.

"_All these years, Hissrad, everything that you gave and did for the Qun, and you throw away everything that you are."_ The elven qunari ranted. _"And for what? For this? For them?!"_ he pointed at Rajmael and his companions accusingly.

"_This is my mission!"_ Rajmael growled. _"The Chargers and Iron Bull are my people, and I won't just stand here and watch them die for you!"_

"_I suppose he is."_ The qunari agent shook his head sadly. _"He isn't one of us anymore."_

Gatt trudged off while Iron Bull stayed behind and watched as they Venatori mages threw fire and lightning at the qunari battleship. It blew up into a great explosion of bright flame and smoke, and with the destruction of the dreadnought, so too did Iron Bull's place amongst the Qunari.

**Back at Skyhold….**

Rajmael met back with Iron Bull in the training yard and was surprised to see Gatt approaching them both.

"_Inquisitor, it is my duty to inform you that there will be no alliance between our people."_ Gatt said formally. _"Nor will you be receiving anymore Ben-Hessrath reports from your…Tal-Vashoth ally."_

A bitter scowl twisted on Iron Bulls face at that title._ "Were you sent to kill me, Gatt?"_

"_No."_ the qunari answered calmly. _"The Ben-Hessrath have already lost one good man. They'd rather not lose two."_

"_Then I suppose you should have these back."_ Iron Bull offered up the helmet and axe back to his former brother.

"_Keep them. They're the only thing that Qunari about you anymore."_ Gatt rejected. With no other purpose for being here, the qunari agent walked out with disapointment in his step.

Rajmael couldn't give a shit what that oxman wannabe thought. _"You looked after your people and got them out alive, Bull. I'm proud of you."_

"_Heh. Thanks, Boss."_ Bull appreciated it. Krem approached them both with a wide smile on his face. _"You're late, Krem."_

"_Sorry, Chief. Still sore from fighting all those Vints."_ Krem joked. _"Good to see you too, Inquisitor."_

"_I'm glad you made it back from the Coast alive." _Rajmael said graciously.

"_So's the Chief!"_ Krem laughed. _"He's even breaking open a cask of Chasind Sack Mead tonight!"_

Iron Bull shoved his lieutenant jokingly. _"Hey, that's something you don't need to to tell the Inquisitor."_

"_Sorry, Chief."_ Krem said as he grabbed his training shield_. "Ready to show me how that shield technique works?"_

"_Actually, I think you've got it down just fine." _Iron Bull smiled a genuine grin.

**Later….**

Earlier Krem passed a message to Rajmael that Iron Bull wanted to meet him on the battlements, but wouldn't say why. This felt just like when Varric called him there when he secretly brought in Hawke. The surprise Iron Bull had was not nearly as pleasant. The instant Rajmael got to Iron Bull, two Qunari assassins dressed as Inquisition soldiers attacked Iron Bull. One of them managed to tag the Bull with a poisoned dagger, and Iron Bull still killed them both with his bare hands.

"_I guess this is the way the Qunari say 'You're no longer in the club'." _Rajmael commented as he looked at the recently deceased bodies.

"_Two measley hitmen."_ Iron Bull grumbled. _"Guess I'm not worth sending real assassins. So that's it then, message delivered. I'm Tal-Vashoth. Tal-Va-fucking-shoth."_

"_Is that really so bad?"_

"_Yes, it is!"_ Iron Bull answered vehemently_. "I've killed hundreds of them back in Seheron, bandits, murderers, bastards who turned their backs on the Qun! And now…now I'm one of them."_

"_No, wrong! You're The Iron Bull, Commander of The Bull's Chargers!"_ Rajmael responded. _"You are not a savage! The only reason you burned out of the Qun was because you got tired of seeing your brothers get slaughtered."_

"_But I've always enjoyed fighting and killing."_ Iron Bull confessed. _"Without the Qun, I could turn as savage as the rest of them."_

"_You've lived without the Qun telling you how to piss for years."_ Rajmael reminded_. "The Qun may have taught you how to live, but the first step to being a man is learning how to make your own choices. And you chose to save your men, I'd say that's a great start in the right direction."_

Iron Bull paused for a moment and chuckled to himself. Rajmael's words actually brought him a little peace. _"I…I can live with that."_

Rajmael smiled back at his mercenary captain. "_You, and your men, are one of us, Iron Bull. You're a part of my clan."_

"_Thanks, Boss. Whatever I regret leaving the Qun, whatever I'll miss about that life…this is where I want to be. Whenever you need a door or an ass kicked, The Iron Bull'll be there."_

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael found Dorian back in the library and felt a little uneasy about what he was going to tell their resident Tevinter. Earlier today Mother Giselle approached him, she had told him that Dorian's family, House Pavus of Qarinus, had contacted her. Rajmael remembered Dorian telling him that he and his family were not on good terms and apparently they contacted Mother Giselle to speak with Dorian and arrange it for him to meet with a retainer of theirs at an inn in Redcliffe, without his knowledge.

Instead, Mother Giselle wanted Rajmael carry out this matter. Judging from the tone in her voice, she didn't want Dorian to know what was truly happening, and seemed to want him gone. Apparently, a mage of Tevinter made the Chantry Mother more than a little uncomfortable.

Well, Rajmael wasn't going to lie to Dorian. If his family didn't have the courage to come and face Dorian themselves, then they had no business trying to make contact with him. However, if Dorian's family wanted to contact him, then Dorian had the right to know about it. There was no honor in tricking him about it.

"_Hello, Inquisitor."_ Dorian greeted in his normal, witty demeanor while putting down a book about the Grey Warden, Garavel. _"Come to talk to the Tevinter mage again? What will people say?"_

Very astute of him, Rajmael thought. "_Dorian, there's a letter you need to see."_

"_Ooh, what kind of letter?"_ Dorian asked in giddy voice. _"Is it a naughty letter? A marriage proposal from some minor nobility in Antiva? Or an invitation to Montfort's hunting party at Chaeteu Haine? I hear the have the best parties of the season in all of southern Thedas!"_

Rajmael could tell that his fellow mage was being sarcastic but this bit of new was going to wipe the smirk of his face_. "Actually, it's a letter from your father."_

And just as Rajmael predicted the smile fell from his face_. "Ah. I see. May see that letter?"_

Dorian paced the floor with an agitated look on his face, and it only got worse the more he read it.

"_I know my son!?"_ Dorian blurted out. _"What Magister Halward actually knows about me would barely fit into a thimble! And I'll bet this retainer of theirs is just some henchmen sent to knock me out and drag my back to Tevinter!"_

"_You really think your own father would do that?"_ Rajmael quizzically. He found it odd that a father could ever harm his son.

"_You'd be surprised the things my father would do, and the excuses he'd make to justify them."_ Dorian answered angrily. "_He expects me to go with Mother Giselle. He must really not know me well if he thinks that I would!"_

"_What exactly is your issue with your family?"_ For Rajmael and most Dalish clans, family was everything. He couldn't comprehend how someone could have such animosity towards his own family.

"_They're not proud of the choices I've made, and I'm not proud of theirs."_ Dorian answered vehemently.

"_Is this all just because you decided not to get married?"_

"_No. That was just the icing on the cake."_ Dorian finished. _"Come on let's go meet this retainer. I hope he was paid well to just stand around if I didn't show up, and to have his legs broken if I did."_

**The Warden's Rest, Redcliffe Village….**

So here they were, back at the inn at Redcliffe and once again to meet Tevinters with ill intentions. Only this time the inn was empty. Could this be a trap?

"_Strange."_ Dorian observed. _"Why is there no one here? This doesn't bode well."_

"_Dorian."_ A stranger hiding the shadows of the hallways announced. He stepped into the light revealing a man close to his fifties.

"_Father."_ Dorian said the word like it was a curse.

This was Dorian's father? Yes. Rajmael could see it now. He looked like an older version of Dorian except clean shaven, and was wearing a mage's robes that pronounced him as a high ranking member of the Magistirium. Other than that, the resemblance between the two was uncanny. Although, Dorian probably wouldn't want to know that.

"_So, I guess the thing about the retainer was just a convenient smokescreen then?" _Dorian assumed.

"_So you told him. I apologize for the deception, Inquisitor. I never intended for you to be involved."_ Magister Pavus spoke slowly in a voice thick with a northern accent. Apparently he never spoke out of his own native tongue much.

"_Of course not."_ Dorian scoffed. _"The great Magister Halward Pavus couldn't be seen in Skyhold where the most powerful man in Southern Thedas is a knife-eared descendant of servani! What would they say back in Qarinus?!"_

"_Dorian, I didn't come here to fight."_ Halward sighed.

"_Obviously you have!"_ Dorian spat. _"Instead of coming to see me in person at Skyhold, you wanted to use an old Chantry Mother to lie to me and bring me here so you can what? Kidnap me? Or try to use blood-magic on me again like you did the last time!"_

Blood-magic? What the fuck? Rajmael never saw blood-magic as being evil, he just saw it as another form of magic. Contrary to what the Chantry dictates the Dalish don't see any magic as good or evil, there's only people with good or evil intention. But to use something as extreme as blood magic on one's own son? _"Wait, what do you mean, Dorian?"_

"_Dorian, don't."_ Halward pleaded.

"_I prefer the company of men."_ Dorian let out easily. _"And my father disapproves."_

Oh, that's it? Rajmael had known about Dorian sexual preferences for quite a while now. He was never very discreet about it. He always spoke with charm and beguilement, and had half the female staff in Skyhold smitten, but never partook with them. And Rajmael always noticed how Dorian sometimes eye Iron Bull's bulging muscles.

"_That's…not exactly a secret, Dorian."_ Rajmael informed casually.

"_No."_ Dorian confirmed_. "Nobody here in the South seems to care, Father. So why should it matter in the North, where deviancy is the Imperium's national pastime?"_

"_This display is uncalled for." _This Magister replied ruefully.

"_No. it is called for."_ Dorian retorted. "_You called for it when you lured me here."_

"_This is not what I wanted."_ Magister Pavus sighed wearily.

"_I'm never what you wanted, father! You've made that abundantly clear." _Dorian said spitefully.

"_Why is this such a problem?"_ Rajmael continued. He found it extremely ironic that from a nation that was legendary for its debauchery could consider anything deviant.

"_It's simply because I'm not the way he wanted me to be!"_ Dorian answered beginning to get teary-eyed. _"All the Great Houses in Tevinter breed, and interbreed, to distill the perfect mage, the perfect leader, and my Father got me, the flaw! When I refused the marriage proposal he set up for me, I told him and my mother the truth. Then he tried to use blood magic to…to change me! To change how I feel. What I believe in!"_

"_What?"_ Rajmael said disbelievingly.

"_He taught me to hate blood-magic, he told me that it was a crutch!"_ Dorian cried angrily. _"The last resort of weak minds, he said. But what was the first thing you resorted to when your precious heir refused to play pretend, and be another lifeless pawn in the Magisterium's bullshit!?"_

"_I was only doing what I though was best for you."_ Halward said with a voice full of regret.

"_No, Father. You did what was best for yourself. For your fucking legacy!"_ Dorian finished and this time the tears were apparent.

Rajmael understood Dorian's anger. Sometimes the people you love most, are the ones that can do the most damage.

"_Dorian."_ Rajmael addressed. _"Your father came all the way to the frozen armpit of this continent just to see you. He may be trying to reach out to you. Trust me on this, if you don't make peace now, you'll regret it for the rest of your life."_ Rajmael knew that all too well. His god-child would never grow up knowing her parents, and would always regret it. Just as Rajmael regretted not being with her right now.

Dorian heeded the Inquisitor's words and let out a sigh. _"Why have you come here?"_

Halward looked at his wayward son for a moment with remorse and let out a deep breath. _"I didn't mean to drive you away, Dorian. What I did…betrayed your trust and it drove you away from us."_

"_I didn't leave because of you."_ Dorian argued. _"I left because it's the right thing to do." _

"_Regardless of why you came here, I did try to use blood magic on my own son. I didn't come here to take you back with me to Qarinus, I came to…ask for your forgiveness."_ Halward finally let out shedding tears of his own.

Dorian looked at his estranged father for a moment. _"Can you give us a moment, Inquisitor?"_

**Back at Skyhold….**

Rajmael waited outside the Tavern for what felt like hours. When Dorian finally emerged, he said nothing, and remained so the entire trip back to Skyhold. Rajmael found Dorian in his usual spot in the library, staring out the window with his face blank and his eyes full of depression.

Dorian sensed the Inquisitor's approach_. "He says we're so much alike, he and I. Too much pride. At one point I would have been proud to have heard him say those words. Now, I'm not so sure. I still don't know if I can forgive him."_

"_Are you going to be alright, Dorian?"_ Rajmael asked honestly.

"_No. Maybe? I'm not sure."_ Dorian sighed. _"Thank you for bringing me there, and not tricking me. It wasn't what I was expecting, but at least it was…something. Oh, Maker knows what you must think of me now after all that."_

"_What you do in your personal life is none of my business, Dorian."_ Rajmael answered truthfully. _"But…I think that you're incredibly brave."_

"_Brave?"_ Doian repeatedly disbelievingly.

"_Choosing to walk your own path, even though it's difficult, and the rest of the world tries to put you down and tell you to be otherwise, is something to be admired."_ Rajmael answered. _"It is something that my people know very well."_

A small smile spread across Dorian's face once more_. "Well, it's good to know I've got something in common with worthy men. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to go raid the winery and drink myself into a stupor. It's been one of those days."_

**~XoXoXo~**

After spending the past few days dealing with his companions' personal crap, Rajmael decided to end the week by visiting the tavern, and getting drunk and stupid with everyone else. The place was already rowdy and full of life. Varric was in the middle of a drinking contest with Iron Bull, Krem, Blackwall and Sera. At first Rajmael's money was on either Iron Bull or Blackwall just because they had the most mass, but was surprised and even concerend to see that it was Sera who out drank them all. Where does she pack everything she consumes? Does she have a Rift in her stomach, or just a tapeworm?

Dorian was wowing the other patrons, especially Scout Harding and the other tavern girls by flashing some minor spells. Making fire dance into wondrous shapes while lightning crackled in his hands made them all giggle and laugh. Such a shame those girls would never get to truly partake in Dorian's foreign Northern charm.

Rajmael managed to catch a few glimpses of Cole scurrying through the tavern, secretly refilling drinks, or stopping people from falling when they were too inebriated to stand. He even saw him stop a bar fight from breaking out by making to angry drunks forget their anger and start laughing again. Even when people were getting completely smashed and stupid, Cole tried to help people.

Rajmael sat by himself until he noticed Cassandra walk into the tavern. She flashed him that beautiful smile of hers and gave him that special look that only he recognized, then motioned him to follow her with his eyes. He handed his drink over to the nearest drunk and followed Cassandra out of the tavern.

Their clothes were scattered all over the loft of the smithy where Cassandra liked to hang out. It was a good thing the workers were all asleep in the barracks or in the tavern right now. Cassandra was a very loud sex partner. She had him pinned beneath her and clawed his chest as her passion rose.

Rajmael rolled over and threw her beneath him, she laughed heartily and locked her legs around his waist, and he his face to hers in a heated kiss.

Rajmael would do always aid his companions, and he would always do anything for her. Especially when aiding Cassandra could be so…rewarding. She rewarded him many times, and then he rewarded her right back. It was a very rewarding night for the both of them, and it was definitely going to make them sore and tired in the morning.

**Language Codex:**

**Ma Vhenan:** Elven endearment, translated,_ "My heart."_

**Ash-karek tel en Anaan:** Qunari phrase, roughly translated, _"Find purpose to find victory."_

**Vashedan:** Qunari swear word, roughly translated, _"Crap"_ or _"Trash"._

**Servani:** Tevene term, translated, _"slave"_ or _"servant"._


	13. An Unexpected Guest

**An Unexpected Guest**

Blackwall always liked his solitude, but he preferred to be doing something while he was alone. Witling was an old hobby of his, and he hadn't done it in a while. He remembered walking through the refugee camp just outside Skyhold and saw how many children were amongst them. Even in the midst of war, children deserved to be children. Maybe he'd make them a rocking-griffon. He had just gotten the tools and wood he'd need, and now was as good a time as any.

"_Hello, how have you been?"_ A very young voice asked.

Blackwall thought the greeting was directed at him, but when he looked around he saw he was quite mistaken. It was a small elven lass, couldn't have been more than ten, with platinum blonde hair. She was talking the Inquisitor's halla, Neirin, as if he could actually speak to her.

"_No one's given you carrots lately?"_ The child asked the halla_. "Don't worry, I'll find you a whole bunch of carrots to munch on."_

Blackwall just stood there somewhat confounded. Well, I suppose all children must have animal friends at some point. He thought to himself. When he turned back to his witling he was shocked to find the same elf girl right next to him. His eyes darted back over to Neirin's stable and wondered how in the Maker's name did she get from over there to over here? Blackwall looked back to her, she had one of his wooden planks against her pointed ear as if it were whispering to her.

"_Your wood's inferior and it was rotted with termites when the lumberjacks cut it down."_ The elf child blurted. _"You should use some cypress. Cypress lasts longer and it's easier to carve with the tools you've got."_ The Warden and the child just stared at each other for a moment in awkward silence. _"'Kay, bye!"_ The girl just trotted off as though the keep were her playground.

Well, that was…random? Blackwall thought to himself. He curiously put the same plank of wood next to his ear wondering if he'd hear something. Nothing. He pressed it against the corner of the table and it snapped in half the instant he put his weight on it, and there was indeed signs of termite rot inside the wood. Now Blackwall was really dumbfounded. How did that child know that? Guess elven ears aren't just for show. Maybe…maybe he would just follow her advice and go find some good cypress.

**~XoXoXo~**

Iron Bull, Varric, Sera, Dorian and Cole all sat around a table enjoying a late morning breakfast. All of them were still a little nervous around their newest residential weirdo. And sat in somewhat awkward silence. Iron Bull and Sera tried to keep as far away from Cole as they could, while Dorian and Varric sat next to him with faces like they were sitting next to an embarrassing relative.

Dorian decided to be the brave one and finally talk. _"So, Cole, that thing you do when you dip into someone else's mind and take a drink? Can you do that with anyone and any memory, or is it specific?"_

"_It has to be hurt, or a way to help the hurt. Or ways that other people were not hurting, so I can help someone else."_ Cole answered shyly under his hat. _"And I can make them forget the things that make them hurt._

"_So that means you can look into another person's head and possibly find every dirty secret and embarrassing memory they want to forget?"_ Dorian continued.

"_Yes."_

"_Ooh! That'd be a great interrogation tactic!"_ Iron Bull said excitedly.

"_Tell us what we want to know or we'll publish your every darkest secret?"_ Varric stated as he drank his ale_. "I got to admit, that's got potential. And it'd probably work better than stabbing a guy square in the books."_

"_Cole, what am I thinking about right?"_ Iron Bull asked.

"_Ugh! Stop talking to that thing already."_ Sera urged with equal parts revilement and fear.

"_Her hair is bright red, just the way I like it. She puts the water yoke down and motions me to follow her with that delicate finger of hers. You follow her to the barn."_ Cole said absently. _"Heart almost stops in chest, knees buckle, and breathing becomes hard. She's already undressed. And she has sisters. And a brother."_

"_Alright, alright!"_ Dorian begged. _"Please stop! Some of us are still eating."_

"_Hey! He was just getting to the good part!"_ Iron Bull argued.

"_How is that embarrassing?"_ Sera asked confused.

"_Well, I'm sure it's embarrassing for others. Knowing just how lacking they actually are compared to some."_ Iron Bull bragged.

"_Wow, I'm gonna have to use that for my next book or something."_ Varric laughed. _"Hey, kid, did you see Hawke when he was here?"_

"_Yes. He had lots of hurting, too."_ Cole answered.

A depressed look in Varric's eye showed. _"Really? Which…which one?"_

"_Chantry's fault, they drove Anders to madness by treating mages like garbage, did nothing to stop Meredith."_ Cole remembered.

"_Yeah, we all heard about that."_ Sera scoffed_. "I think this thing's broken."_

"_What did he do to her? What did that monster, Quentin, do to her?"_ Cole said with pain in his voice. _"He holds her to him, her desecrated, horribly stitched hand that doesn't belong to her touches his face. Tears run from his eyes. Maker, please, please don't take her from me, too!"_ An emotional look came over Varric as he remembered what he was talking about. _"She smiled at him for the last time. I love you, my darling boy. You always made me so proud. And then died, and a hole was left inside him."_

"_Yeah. Yeah, Leandra's death it…it hit all of us pretty hard."_ Varric confessed sadly. _"Hit Hawke the hardest. Do you remember anything else?"_ He wanted to change the subject.

"_Merrill lies down on the bed while Isabella holds her soft hands over hers, she whispers into Merrill's ear as he looms over them."_ Cole continued as though he were actually seeing the memory. _"Merrill and Isabella kiss, lips and tongues intertwining with one another, their skin rubs together like a mix of shades of caramel and cream. Isabella's hands gently play with Merrill's perky breasts. Isabella looks up with him with that naughty grin of hers, 'Kitten's purring, Hawke. Won't you scratch her_?'"

Everyone at the table, even Dorian, was breathing heavy now.

"_Yeah? Yeah? Keep going."_ Iron Bull almost begged.

"_Something about an Antivan Milk Sandwhich?"_ Cole answered with confusion.

"_What's an Antivan Milk Sandwhich?"_ A young voice blurted out of nowhere, and shocked the life out of everyone at the table. _"Are they sandwiches made out of milk from Antiva? Or is it something that the Antivans took credit for? Like Orlesian Sponge Cake that was actually made in Nevarra? Does anyone here have any real cake? I could use some cake. I like cake."_

They were so shocked by the appearance of this random child Varric spat his ale while Sera almost choked on her meat pie, and Dorian yelped in a rather high pitch.

"_Whoa! Where'd you come from?!" _Sera asked excitedly_._

"_From that door." _The child smiled as she pointed to the entrance.

"_Well, what do you want?" _Dorian asked with a quirked eyebrow.

"_I wanna know what an Antivan Milk Sandwhich is." _She answered innocently.

Iron Bull had a grin a mile wide on his face. _"Well, kid that's when a man gets with a woman, or a really, really muscular man, and puts his…."_

"_Maker's Sweet Breath, Bull!"_ Dorian cursed. _"Are you trying to scar this poor child?!"_

"_Hey, she asked a good question, and she deserved a good answer."_ Iron Bull defended jokingly.

"_Wow! You've got really big horns! Have you always had big horns, or do they fall off and grow back like halla antlers? Did you ever get stuck in a doorway with those things? I'll bet they're really fun to swing from! Wow, you're big! Do you lift weights, or do you just eat people?!_

Varric cleared his throat and took a moment to look at the little elf who just materialized out of thin air, and was blabbing her mouth like she was bottle-fed caffeine her whole life. She was really young, like ten, and pretty looking, too. And she had brilliant green eyes like shimmering emeralds.

"_You, uh, you here for something, Squirt?"_ This kid's questions were starting to give him a hangover and he wasn't even drunk yet.

"_I'm looking for someone."_ The elf answered.

"_Well, who're you looking for?"_ Varric asked as he wondered what the hell is an underage child doing in a tavern

"_I'm looking for my foster-father."_ She answered.

"_Were you separated from your family?"_ Dorian asked. _"Is that why you're looking for him here?"_

"_Nah, he left the rest of our family and never came back like he promised."_ The girl answered a little sadly. "_So, I thought I'd come look for him!"_

"_Wow. And I thought my father was a bastard."_ Dorian scoffed_. "At least he waited long enough for me to disappoint him before wanting nothing to do with me."_

"_What's he look like?"_

"_Like an elf."_ The girl smiled.

"_Could you…be a little more specific?"_ Varric urged. _"You know, give me a little something else?"_

"_Oh. He's got really pointy ears and big, bright eyes." _She answered.

"_Well, that doesn't describe every elf in the world."_ Sera muttered beneath her breath.

After what happened in the Breach and all the shit happening in the world right now, Varric didn't doubt there was probably a lot of orphans running around looking for their parent and safety. They probably couldn't save all of them, and that was the sad truth. But maybe he could help this one find her guardian.

"_Hey, listen, Squirt. I don't know if we can help you find your foster-father, but if you go to the Keep's rookery above the library and ask Sister Nightingale to help you, you'll find something."_ Varric instructed gently. _"If you tell her it's a favor for Varric, I'm sure she'll help you out."_

"_You think she'll fall for the big, sad eyes trick?"_ The girl asked blithely as she showed off her big, green eyes as though her heart were broken.

She was so good Varric almost fell for it. _"Wow, pretty good kid. Put in a little trembling lips and make your eyes a little teary, and you've got her in the bag."_

"_Okay. Thanks!"_ The manipulative elf skipped out of the tavern humming a tune to herself.

"_Ha. Cute kid."_ Varric laughed. _"Reminds me of a Rivaini pirate I know."_

"_Is it strange or unnerving that that child somehow reminds me so much of an Antivan crow I once met?"_ Dorian asked.

"_Damn. That kid's got the makings of a good spy going on." _Iron Bull complimented.

"_Maybe she's a Friend?"_ Sera suggested.

"_What, you mean you don't know?"_ Dorian asked.

"_Got lots of friends, doesn't mean I know them all."_ Sera answered defensively.

"_Hey, Cole did you pick up anything from that kid?"_ Iron Bull asked.

"_Mommy and Daddy are gone, others are saying he's abandoned us."_ Cole said sadly as he conveyed the memory he found. _"I have to find him, have to bring him home. Please, come home."_

**~XoXoXo~**

Two of the castle's workers, a dwarven mason and a human laborer stood around the courtyard on break. The two of them had been working to repair and replace the worn out walls and stairs and decided to take a moment to talk to each other. Both of them having doing the construction and reconstruction business for years now, both of them got started during the rebuilding after the Fifth Blight in Ferelden. And both so used to doing men's work they didn't care they talked shit to each other. Each one thought the other was decent enough company.

"_Just glad I'm working with you and not with them."_ The human stated.

"_Them? Them who?"_ The dwarf asked.

"_You know. Them."_ The human insisted.

"_Mages? Templars? Chantry sisters?"_ The dwarf continued.

"_No, no, no. __**Them.**__"_ The human alluded deliberately.

"_Spies? Mercenaries? Assassins?"_ The dwarf asked with annoyance.

"_Elves, you twit!"_ The human finally answered.

"_Is that all? Phhbt! Typical human."_ The dwarf scoffed.

"_Think about it, they could be the ones helping The Elder One."_ The human insisted.

"_What, from that kingdom they lost with that army they don't have?"_ The dwarf countered.

"_I heard the magic he's using is from the elves!"_ The laborer argued.

"_And you heard this where?"_

"_Does that matter?"_ The human questioned. _"It makes perfect sense. Those elves that hide in the woods, doing Maker knows what, could be doing Corypheus' work for him. Why else would they be hiding out from the rest of civilization?"_

"_Yeah, especially since you humans are so tolerant and understanding." _The mason stated sarcastically. _"You realize that the Inquisitor's a Dalish elf, right?"_

"_I'll believe that lie when I see it!"_ The human barked offended_. "There's no way Andraste's Herald could be a sodding heathen elf from the woods. It's just another part of the elven conspiracy to make us put our guard down so The Elder One can attack us, like in Haven."_

The human felt someone tap on him from behind, he turned to see a small elven child with platinum blonde hair looking at him with her big green eyes. _"Well, what do you want?"_ The human asked rudely.

The elven child silently, and with great speed, punched her fist right between the human laborer's legs with astounding force. The man screamed a high pitched falsetto as he doubled over in pain. The child then grabbed him by the hair and forced him to the ground and kicked him so hard in the face his nose broke.

The dwarven mason just stood there and watched as the elven child kicked his human coworker a few more times, then spat on his face. He wouldn't be surprised if that kid broke of few of the guys' ribs. When she was done, she skipped away with a carefree smile, humming a happy tune like nothing had happened.

"_Well…a prepubescent elf just kicked your ass, so I'll give you that one."_ The dwarf conceded sarcastically as he walked off to go get the guy a healer. Maker knows he probably needed one.

**~XoXoXo~**

Solas had finished writing down his latest findings about the Rifts and their immediate effects on nearby flora and fauna and had given it to Seeker Cassandra. She seemed less…ornery than usual. Her recent relations with the Inquisitor must be having a positive effect on her. Solas decided to use some of his free time to continue painting the mural he was working on.

When Solas walked into the library he was surprised to see someone already working on the part of the mural he left off on. A little elven girl with lovely bright hair and green eyes somehow found his pastels and painting supplies, and applying it to the wall surprisingly well.

"_Hello, little one."_ Solas greeted politely, startling the child.

"_Oh! I'm so sorry!"_ The girl sputtered_. "I-I didn't mean any harm to the painting."_

"_Nonsense, child. Being painted on is what the mural is for."_ Solas laughed_. "Please, continue."_ The elven apostate watched as the child's fingers dipped into the paints and applied it to the wall not like a child normally would, but with grace and intent. Whose daughter was this? _"Why are you here, da'len?"_

"_Oh, I came looking for someone named Sister Nightingale."_ The child answered politely. _"But then I saw your beautiful painting and I couldn't help myself."_

"_There are not many who know this style of painting. Where did you learn it?"_

"_My mommy taught me before she died."_ The child answered sadly.

"_I am sorry."_ Solas said sincerely. _"Perhaps, her memory will live on in the skill she taught you."_

"_That's why I learned it, hahren."_ The child smiled brightly_. "Can you tell me where I can find Sister Nightingale?"_

"_Yes, she'll be at the very top of the library." _Solas answered. _"In the rookery where all the birds are."_

"_Ma serannas!"_ The girl chirped as she wiped her hands on a towel and made her way to the stairs.

Solas smiled to himself as he watched the child go her own way. He looked at the small picture she made near the bottom of the mural, and was impressed at how well one so young could be so skilled. The picture she made had a dark background, with images of winged foxes prancing, white rabbits looking up to trees, and birds flying with pieces of gold clutched in their talons. The bears were standing on their four legs looking attentively at a hooded figure of elven appearance with two ravens perched atop his shoulders while covering his mouth with his hands.

The picture depicted the elven tale of when Dirthamen, Keeper of Secrets, bestowed a secret for each animal to guard. The rabbits told theirs to the treetops, the foxes traded theirs for wings, and the birds sold theirs for gold. Only the bears kept their secrets, and are therefore considered sacred to Dirthamen. Solas found it a strange coincidence that a child would paint the story of an elven god that happens to be the same god that the Inquisitor paid homage to with his facial tattoos. Who was that child?

**~XoXoXo~**

Leliana sat at her table overlooking the latest reports from her agents in Orlais. Their progress in Orlais and Ferelden was definitely making things difficult for Corypheus and his Venatori, but it wasn't enough. From what the reports said, Corypheus was sending his agents to search ancient ruins for artifacts that may be useful to him. It wasn't a surprise that Corypheus was searching Tevinter Ruins, objects of power might still reside in ruins only he knows of. But what was surprising was the fact that Corypheus was most ardently searching ancient elven ruins. Did the ancient elves possess or hide something powerful that he didn't know of? If the orb that Corypheus used to open the sky was truly elven, then any artifact in those ruins must not fall into his hands. All this trouble over elven artifacts did make Leliana wonder, what kind of power did the ancient elves wield?

"_You really shouldn't slouch like that, or frown so hard, Leliana."_ Josephine chided jokingly as she handed her old friend a cup of tea. _"Have you forgotten everything we learned in Val RoyeauX?_

"_Back in those days I had enough time for at least two hours of sleep. Now, I'm lucky if I can get ten minutes."_ Leliana replied as she took a sip of the caffeinated tea.

It had been a while since Josephine had been able to talk to Leliana as just a friend. And seeing how down her friend had been lately, maybe it was time for them to act like a couple of gossiping girls, if only for a moment. _"Well, at least one of the Hands of the Divine is sleeping well lately."_

Leliana sputtered on her tea and laughed. _"Oh, I know! I always knew Cassandra had a romantic side, I just never thought I'd live to see her show it."_

"_Some might think that it's inappropriate for an agent of the Divine, and a Nevarran Royal, to be with the Dalish elf." _Josephine stated. _"I don't disapprove, but I know that there are many in the courts who would be appalled by such a relationship."_

"_Most of those nobles aren't out there spilling blood to keep the world safe."_ Leliana responded. _"When I was in Ferelden during the Blight, Aedan Cousland dallied with a woman I had nothing but contempt for. Ugh, Morrigan! She was so disagreeable. But the two of them found love and joy in each other's arms despite the world ending around them."_

"_You make it sound so idyllic."_ Josephine sighed.

"_We should all be so lucky to find such love, Josie."_ Leliana affirmed_. "It is truly such a wonderful thing. And I think our Inquisitor and Cassandra deserve it more than many."_

"_Um, e-excuse me? Are you Sister Nightingale?"_ Asked a nervous yet sweet voice.

Leliana and Josephine were surprised to see the sweetest looking elven child with beautiful platinum blonde hair tied into an intricate pony tail, and she had the most enchanting green eyes. Oh, the poor thing looked lost and nervous.

"_I was told Sister Nightingale was a really pretty lady with beautiful red hair, and pretty shoes." _The girl explained nervously.

"_Oh, aren't you just precious!"_ Leliana gushed. This girl thought these horrible leather scouting boots were pretty. _"You think my hair is beautiful? But yours is just gorgeous!"_

"_And so polite."_ Josephine added with equal enthusiasm. _"She's like a sweet little doll!"_

"_I like your dress."_ The little girl said bashfully to Josephine. _"It makes you look even prettier."_

"_Oh, you little darling! You're making me blush."_ Josephine giggled.

"_M-mister Varric told me you could help me? I…I'm looking for my foster-father. I haven't seen him in such a long time, and I've been trying to find him." _

Leliana felt her heart strings being twinged. _"Oh, you poor darling, did you and your father get separated? I would love to help you but…."_ The little girl looked up to Leliana with those big eyes of hers on the verge of tears. Leliana couldn't just turn her away. _"If you can wait for me down in the library, then I promise to help you find your father."_

"_You promise?"_ The girl asked hopefully.

"_I promise."_ Leliana answered kindly.

"_Thank you!"_ The elven child beamed as she hugged Leliana affectionately.

Leliana felt her heart melt as the child hugged her warmly and bashfully scurried away down into the library. What a lovely little girl! Leliana just wanted to take her home, dress her up like a little princess, and let her play with Schmooples Two and Boulette while they did each other's hair. Whose daughter was she? Whoever they were, they were lucky parents indeed. Leliana hoped she could help her.

The little girl came back a few minutes later with a book detailing the Complete Study of Animals, Beasts and Dangerous Creatures of Thedas. Josephine practically beamed as she sat next to the little girl and read the book with her. This reminded her so much of how she and her sister, Yvette, used to be together.

**~XoXoXo~**

Cullen finally had the reports ready from his men who were uncovering and guarding some of the ruins the Inquisitor discovered in the Western Approach, and decided to share the report with Sister Nightingale. When he arrived at the Rookery, he was somewhat surprised to see a little girl sitting at Leliana's table reading a book with the Ambassador. She was a cute little thing, looked like she was reading a book about dangerous creatures.

"_Here are my men's latest reports, Leliana."_ Cullen stated as he handed them to her. _"They'll inform us if anything else changes."_

"_Good. We need to be vigilant."_ Leliana said as she glanced over the report.

"_Who's your little guest, Leliana?"_ Cullen asked curiously.

"_Isn't she adorable?"_ Leliana beamed as she looked over to the little elf. _"Varric sent her over to me, apparently she's looking for her adopted father."_

"_And you decided to help her?"_

"_She came to me looking for help." _Leliana said defensively_. "And how could I refuse such a sweet little thing?"_

"_There are so many children going around right now without parents or guardians. I suppose we should try to help as many as we can."_ Cullen relented.

"_You're not as scary as some people might think. You should say something to her."_ Leliana suggested. _"It'll make you feel good about yourself."_

"_I'm not sure that's a good idea…."_

"_Oh, come one, when was the last time you interacted with a child?"_

"_Probably my own childhood."_ Cullen sighed.

"_Well, go try talking with her."_ Leliana urged. "She's so charming, she might even pick your mood up."

Cullen decided to give it a try if only to satisfy the Spymaster's insistence. Cullen calmly walked towards the child, and tried to seem as friendly as he could. The little girl did look cute reading next to Ambassador Montilyet. _"Hello, little one."_

The elven girl looked up to Cullen, her smile disappeared as the color seemed drained from her face.

Josephine became deeply concerned with how frightened the little girl became when she saw Cullen. He hands were shaking and tears actually spilled from her eyes. What was wrong? "_Child? There's no need to be frightened." Josephine promised. "Commander Cullen keeps everyone in Skyhold safe."_

"_Templar."_ The little girl whispered with tears running down her cheeks. _**"GET AWAY FROM ME!"**_ she shrieked as she jumped five feet back from Cullen with astounding agility. All the flames from every candle in the library tower flew off the wicks and into the elven girl's hands, turning into white hot pillars of flame.

The girl was a mage? Cullen had to try and play it safe, somehow this girl had very powerful control, but she was still a frightened child. And that made her incredibly dangerous. _"Calm down…I mean you no harm. The Templars aren't what they…."_

"_Come any closer, and I'll blacken your bones!"_ The girl threatened with flames intensifying. She looked at Sister Nightingale and Miss Josephine, and clapped her hands together, smothering the flame and creating a thick cloud of smoke.

"_Where'd she go?!"_ Cullen coughed and choked on the smoke.

"_What is going on here?!"_ Madame Vivienne asked frantically as she ran up the stairs, fanning the smoke away. Solas followed right behind her.

"_There was a little girl here, a mage."_ Leliana answered_. "I've never seen her before. Cullen's very presence frightened her."_

"_She must not have been here very long, all mages who came with Fiona know that the Commander means no harm."_ Josephine added.

"_Given the templars' actions during the war, I don't think I can fault the girl's reaction."_ Solas commented.

"_This is exactly what I feared would happen."_ Vivienne sighed despondently. _"Giving mages no oversight is only going to lead to even more destruction. That girl is a danger, and the Inquisitor's foolishness will cost us all."_

A thick dictionary floated up from the lower floors right in midair, and flew straight into Vivienne's face with a resounding smack, and broke Vivienne's nose. Vivienne cried out in pain, and everyone looked down to lower floor. The little elf girl shot a nasty look at Vivienne and flipped her the finger before running off.

"_We must…__**GET HER!"**_ Vivienne shrieked as she magically mended her broken nose and split lip.

Everyone, including Josephine, and especially Vivienne, ran down the stairs to catch the elf before she caused any harm. They found her in the main hall and chased her out into the courtyard. Cullen couldn't let her get away in such a state, lest she hurt herself or someone else.

She had already beaten them down the stairs from the keep. Cullen saw the Inquisitor and Seeker Pentaghast walking side by side, and the little girl was running straight for them, just as the Inquisitor's other companions were leaving the tavern. This could not bode well.

"_Inquisitor!"_ Cullen warned.

"_RAJMAEL!"_ The girl cried joyfully as she leapt to Inquisitor.

A mix of surprise and joy washed over Rajmael's face as he caught the little girl in his arms. _"Eva! Aneth ara, da'vhenan!"_

"_I'm so happy I found you."_ Eva wept as she hugged him around the neck.

Cassandra was almost as surprised as everyone else, Vivienne looked more irked than surprised. _"Rajmael, who is this girl?"_ The Seeker asked.

Both elves looked at her with genuine happiness. _"This is Eva Lavellan. My god-daughter."_ Rajmael introduced.

Everyone was in a state of mild shock. This little girl running amok was actually Dalish? And she was this god-child that he's always spoken of? Some of them were actually impressed, while Vivienne was less than thrilled.

"_Love the nose job, Vivienne."_ Rajmael commented sarcastically as he carried the young girl back to the keep. Eva flipped the Imperial Enchantress off again, while sticking her tongue out at her. It took every bit of Vivienne's self-control to keep herself from wanting to throw a spell at the impudent little brat.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael took Eva over to the gardens and the two hugged each other closely, they missed each other so much. And hiding in the shadows, and on the battlements, and in the walkways above the garden, Rajmael's companions and advisors were listening in on their little conversation. They couldn't pass up the chance to see another side of

"_So, what do you think of my companions?" Rajmael asked humorously._

"_Phht! They're too easy!"_ Eva laughed_. "I could run circles around most of them all day. I think the bald one would make a great Dalish elf, like you. That other mage, the old one all dressed up like a peacock, she's an arrogant bitch who has to have everything her way. And your Spymaster and Ambassador are weak for anything cute and adorable. And let's face it, what could be more cute and adorable than me?"_ Eva batted her eyes and smiled in the same way her mother used to.

"_You're definitely your mother's daughter."_ Rajmael said almost remorsefully. Evanura would do the same thing to him and Nethras to make them do anything for her.

_"The dark skinned Orlesian is a total bitch-cake, but I think you know that already."_ Eva said with a disgusted scowl on her face.

_"Oh, trust me, Eva, I've already made her life a living hell." _Rajmael knelt down in front of his foster daughter with a pensive look on his face_. "Eva, what are you doing here? Why aren't you in Wycome with the rest of our clan? Does Keeper Deshana know where you are?"_ This time Rajmael's tone was extremely serious, and everyone listening could hear it.

A painfully sad look came over Eva's face and she hugged her foster father around his neck, holding him close to her. _"Rajmael, please, come home."_ Eva wept_. "I heard about what happened at Haven and I thought you died! I already lost mama and papa, I don't want to lose you, too!"_

Rajmael hugged Eva close to him and tried to soothe her. She was still so young, and he knew what it was like to be orphaned at such a young age. His worst fear was to die and leave her alone_. "Oh, da'vhenan, I want nothing more than to go home with you, but I can't just leave. There's far too much that needs my attention to for to go now. These shems would all walk out into the snow and die if I wasn't here."_ Rajmael tried to joke to get her mind off the pain.

"_There are members of the clan that are saying that you abandoned the Vir Tanadhal for the Chantry."_ Eva informed sadly. _"They're saying that you abandoned the Creators. Please, tell me it's not true."_

Rajmael cupped her small face in his hands and looked at her deep green and teary eyes_. "Eva, I could no more abandon you, or the Creators, than I could carve out my own heart. I am here to represent our people and lead this Inquisition through this crisis. I'm doing because I promised your mother that I would never let anything happen to you, and this is the only way I can keep you safe."_

Eva hugged into Rajmael's chest and held him tightly, her tears drenching his shirt. _"_

_Please, promise me you won't die." She begged. "I don't want to lose you, too."_

Rajmael held Eva close to him and rocked her back and forth_. "I'm not going to die, da'vhenan." He swore. "I'm not ever going to die. And I will never turn my back on our people."_

Everyone watching from their hiding place could feel the emotion in the air from these two elves. For some it was harder to hear than others.

"_Hey, you gettin' misty-eyed there, Tiny?"_ Varric whispered.

"_No!"_ Iron Bull denied while wiping his only eye. _"I just got something in my eye is all!"_

"_Yeah, that's called tears."_ Varric teased.

"_I wish my mother would have hugged me like that."_ Dorian wished half sarcastically.

"_Oh, friggin'…mush-cookies!"_ Sera cursed under her breath, while trying not to seem emotional.

"_This is too adorable."_ Leliana cooed.

Guess Hawke and the Inquisitor had a lot more in common than he thought. When it boils down to it, they were both just a couple of family men caught up in shitty situations beyond their control, but at the heart of it all, every great deed, every act of heroism they ever accomplished, they did it for the sake of family. And let's face it, what's a worthier cause than that? There are plenty of great men who'll die for king and country, or gold, or revenge. But the ones that fight for family are the rarest and greatest of them all.

Iron Bull wiped the nonexistent tear away from his eye. Growing up in Qun, kids aren't allowed to know who their parents are. They're bred to be serve the qunari people, and even though the records are kept about who their parents are, they're never allowed to know, something about how that only animals look after their young, and that the Qun looks after its people. But even he could see that there was something special about holding your own kid to you and watching something you created grow and smile, and laugh. Even the Tamssrans didn't know what that was like.

Oh, vishante kaffas, this was so sweet it threatened to make Dorian's teeth rot. But that was certainly not a bad thing. Seeing Rajmael and Eva together reminded Dorian of that episode he had with his father just so recently. And seeing how close those two were made him wish that he had such a relationship with his parents. The occasional hug, kiss and "I love you, son" wouldn't have been so bad. But that would have shown weakness to the other houses, or worse, the servants. Rajmael being an elf that walked around barefoot with tattoos on his face didn't care for such superficial nonsense, and could show anyone as much love as he wanted.

Now this is what was worth fighting for, Blackwall thought to himself. A man fighting for what he loved. That little girl came here all the way from the Free Marches just to see her adopted father, now that was a cause more worthy than any battle he'd ever fought in his life before the Wardens. Blackwall had seen firsthand from his own experiences on the battlefield, and what he saw from those farmers he trained in the Hinterlands, nothing is more fearsome than a man fighting to protect his family and loved ones. It was something that that bastard Corypheus could never hope to understand.

Josephine dabbed the tears from her eyes with her handkerchief. Seeing this side of Rajmael with his beautiful godchild reminded her of how much she missed her family. _"I have to write a letter to Mama and Papa."_ She promised herself. It had been too long since she'd spoke to her brothers and sister. Maybe she should send them a care package to let them know she was thinking about them. Rajmael would have made a wonderful papa.

Cole looked down on the Inquisitor and the little girl down in the courtyard and felt Rajmael's feelings. He holds her close to him, just like he did the day she was born. Sweet little Eva, please don't cry. I could never bear seeing and your mother cry. I'm not going to die, I will never abandon you. Rajmael's feelings were the same as Rhys' mother, Wynne, who held the Spirit of Faith. Wynne loved Rhys and would have done anything to protect him. And in the end that's what she did. Cole wished he knew what that was like.

Despite everything that Solas felt about the Dalish, he had to admit there were things to be admired about them. They possessed an indomitable spirit that has withstood the test of time and persecution, and every Dalish elf recognized the value in caring for one another. It was something Solas did not see as much in modern city elves, and even less so amongst humans, and even dwarves. Once more the Inquisitor surprised him. Rajmael was much more mortal than most be would acknowledge.

Cullen started feeling bad about himself. Not only did he scare the life out of that little girl, it made him realize how much he'd actually been neglecting contact with his siblings. Mia would criticize and ridicule him terribly for not contacting them as often as he probably should. Maker's breath, it had been almost a decade since he'd seen them. Perhaps with the uncertainty of this war, he should contact them, and maybe even see them again.

Leliana never had a family. Many good and close friends, but never an actual family. She barely remembered her mother, and Lady Cecile was a wonderful woman, but it was never the same as a real family. She saw the pain and anguish the loss of family had done to Aedan Cousland, how such a loss could destroy a man. It was good to see that even amidst all this chaos and loss, there was still some joy to be found.

Unlike the others, who felt the need to comment about everything when they were supposed to hiding, Cassandra stayed silent. A smile crept across her face as she watched her lover embrace the child. Now she understood why in the beginning he wanted to leave so badly, and Cassandra could not help but feel guilty once more about her originally forcing Rajmael to be here, and her forcing this terrible burden on him. The more he surprised her, the more in love she found herself with him.

**~XoXoXo~**

The day was getting late, and Rajmael knew Eva was tired. He carried her up to his room and laid her down on his bed. He knew that she didn't want to sleep just yet, and he remembered the lullaby that Nethras' mother would sing to him while she nursed him back to health, the same song that Evanura sung to her daughter. He tried to sing at well as those two women did. The song was called _"Mir Dal'en Somniar"._

_Elgara vallas, da'len_  
_ Melava somniar_  
_ Mala tara aravas_  
_ Ara ma'desen melar_

_Iras ma ghilas, da'len_  
_ Ara ma'nedan ashir_  
_ Dirthara lothlenan'as_  
_ Bal emma mala dir_

_Tel'enfenim, da'len_  
_ Irassal ma ghilas_  
_ Ma garas mir renan_  
_ Ara ma'athlan vhenas_  
_ Ara ma'athlan vhenas_

_Sun sets, little one,_  
_ Time to dream_  
_ Your mind journeys,_  
_ But I will hold you here._

_Where will you go, little one_  
_ Lost to me in sleep?_  
_ Seek truth in a forgotten land_  
_ Deep with in your heart._

_Never fear, little one,_  
_ Wherever you shall go._  
_ Follow my voice-_  
_ I will call you home._  
_ I will call you home_

Rajmael's singing must have been decent enough. Soone Eva's eyes became heavy and she fell asleep while holding his hand. He moved the stray hairs from her face and tucked her in. Sweet Sylaise, he didn't realize how much he missed her.

He found himself back in the War Room looking at the map, at the region in which Wycome resided, to be specific. And all he could think about was what had been happening to his clan. There were times where he thought he would die from anxiety when he heard the reports that kept coming in.

Clan Lavellan's fortune grew worse before it got better, and Rajmael could not help but feel responsible for the ills that befell his clan. First, Keeper Deshana sent him a letter telling him that they were under attack by bandits, so Rajmael sent in the Inquisition's forces to protect them. The Duke of Wycome, Duke Antoine, graciously invited Clan Lavellan into the city and allowed them to live amongst the city's elves, Rajmael was just glad to know his clan was somewhere safe. But as the old saying goes: they went out of the frying pan, and into the fire.

A terrible disease broke out amongst the humans, especially the nobility, which had the same symptoms as exposure to red lyrium. Duke Antoine used the Clan Lavellan and the elves as a scapegoat and blamed them for bringing in some kind of filthy elven sickness that now poisoned the human population, and he was going to purge the city's elves. Many of the humans were getting sick, and they believed the Duke's lies. Diplomacy was out of the question, and if Rajmael deployed the military, the humans would instantly begin slaughtering the elves. This called for subterfuge. Sister Nightingale deployed her agents and they met with the Keeper Deshana, and other members of the elven resistance, and they were able to infiltrate the city and stop the Duke's red lyrium operation. When the human laborers and merchants were shown this evidence, they joined the elves in an uprising against the nobles and their soldiers. The fighting was short and very brutal, and most of the nobility was slain. Keeper Deshana personally dispatched Duke Antoine and his retinue of Tevinter advisors and soldiers.

Amongst the Duke's personal effects were corresponding letters from the Venatori. Apparently they bought the Duke with promises of godhood and immortality, and instructed him to hire mercenaries to kill Rajmael's clan. When that didn't work, Antoine decided to kill two birds with one stone and blame the elves for the poisonous outbreak that the red lyrium was causing to pit he humans against the elves, and cover up his operation with the Venatori.

Rajmael thought, hoped, that he was done worrying about his clan now, but, alas, it was not. The nobles that fled the city during the attack fled to the surrounding city states and told the leaders of those cities about how Wycome was over taken by an army of heathen elves that murdered Duke Antoine in his own keep. After the Second Qunari Invasion of Kirkwall, the nobles of the Free Marches weren't too keen to let another heathen army establish itself in their backyard and be a threat to their faith. Josephine recommended diplomacy, but Rajmael didn't trust the powers of human reasoning, especially those fanatical brain-dead shems in the Free Marches, so he sent the Inquisition's forces to aid his clan and defend the city.

In the face of the Inquisition's soldiers, and the combined forces of the Dalish eles and the humans who allied with them, the Free Marchers backed off and were willing to talk. Josephine's diplomat explained the situation, and as an offer of peace, they paid a sizeable ransom to the citizens and elves of Wycome. Rajmael thanked all the Creators and even Fen'harel for such a remarkable resolution to this ordeal. And to top it all off, Keeper Deshana, along with another city elf, was placed on the newly formed Wycome City Council, which would rule the city fairly for both humans and elves alike.

Rajmael had hoped that after their resounding victory and newly found place in Wycome, he wouldn't need to worry about Eva anymore. But now she was here, and the painful truth that he wished he could just pray away was, the closer she was to him, the more danger she would be in. He would need to send her away. Again.

All these thoughts of his clan made him anxious and homesick. He needed to have a drink right now. And no doubt his immediate company was probably waiting to bombard with with questions or comments about his ward being here. The tavern was definitely the best place to be right now.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael sat down with a glass of 8:45 Coastland Whiskey as he stuffed his sylvanwood pipe with his favorite tobacco. And, sure enough, before his pipe was even lit, Rajmael found himself surrounded by his companions, all with eager looks on their faces. "_If this is about Eva, go ahead and take a seat."_ Rajmael sighed. Everyone grabbed a chair and sat around the Inquisitor, some more eagerly than others.

"_I know I heard you say you had a god-child, Inquisitor, but I never imagined she was anything like that!" _Varric laughed_. "She reminds me of a certain Rivaini pirate I used to know."_

"_I never would've pegged you for a family man myself."_ Blackwall admitted with a smile.

"_Oh! And she is just so adorable!"_ Josephine declared. _"I just want to take her home and play dolls with her!"_

"_Her smiles make you feel bright inside."_ Cole whispered_. "Her joy makes you feel complete."_

"_And the way you look as you hold her, I would have mistaken her for your daughter." _Cassandra said smilingly.

"_Near enough."_ Rajmael smiled back as nostalgia washed over him. _"I delivered her into the world, and placed her in her mother's arm."_

"_You said that she's your god-daughter. You and her parents must be very close."_ Leliana observed.

Rajmael chuckled to himself as he sat back in his chair with his pipe. _"Yeah, we were as close as can be. They were as close as family as I ever got to have after I was adopted by the Dalish."_

"_I'm sensing a story here."_ Varric pointed out.

"_None of you got anything better to do?"_ Rajmael asked sarcastically.

"_If we did we all wouldn't be in the tavern right now."_ Dorian answered.

"_Being in the tavern is best thing I ever do all day."_ Iron Bull joked.

"_Okay."_ Rajmael relented. _"After I was saved by the Dalish, Nethras, Eva's father, and his parents practically adopted me. He became our clan's best hunter, and we grew up like brothers. He was the one who gifted this pipe to me for a birthday present."_ Rajmael held out his lit sylvanwood pipe for them to see.

"_And what about Eva's mama?"_ Josephine asked eagerly.

Rajmael smiled sheepishly as he remembered Eva's mother. _"Heh-heh. Evanura, now she was something else."_ He answered almost dreamily. _"She was our clan's best swordfighter, and she was even named after the greatest sword made in the Temple of June. Nethras and I were obsessed with her."_ Rajmael laughed. _"She had us wrapped around her little finger! I remember one time she came and asked us to get her some fresh wyvern hide to wrap on her sword handle. All she had to do was bat her eyes and give us that smile, and we had to fight each other to try and find a wyvern first."_

Everyone laughed at Rajmael's story. Cassandra couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of jealousy as Rajmael spoke so fondly this Evanura. But she ignored it, she still remembered Regalyan fondly, why shouldn't Rajmael remember his first love?

"_Well, he and I fought each other to get to the wyvern first, but the instant we found that thing, we fought to outrun each other."_ Rajmael laughed so loud he almost choked on his smoke. _"We spent the half the day running from it, and the whole night trying to kill it. We came back to camp the next morning all bloodied and dirty, each carrying half of the wyvern's hide, only to find out that Evanura already killed a wyvern, and was already tanning its hide by the time we got there!"_

"_Aha-ha-ha! Hot damn, that girl sounds like a riot!"_ Iron Bull laughed.

"_Indeed! I would have loved to meet this woman."_ Dorian agreed. _"She sounds like a woman after my own heart."_

"_I guess the Inquisitor is mortal after all."_ Blackwall chuckled.

"_Any woman capable of manipulating the Inquisitor does sound formidable."_ Vivienne agreed as she sipped her wine.

"_Daisy and Rivaini would have loved this girl."_ Varric chuckled incessantly

"_Oh, that just classic!"_ Sera chortled.

"_You were covered in cuts and bruises, but you can't help but laugh." _Cole said smilingly. _"She teases, but does not lie, she cares, but she plays, too."_

"_It sounds like she would have made a wonderful bard."_ Leliana complimented.

"_Keeper Deshana was so pissed off and impressed, she gave us our vallaslin early, then kicked the crap out of us. I chose to honor Dirthamen, Keeper of Secrets, and Nethras chose to honor Andruil, Lady of the Hunt."_ Rajmael grimaced as he remembered the pain of the Keeper's staff hitting him upside the head. _"Evanura was the one who taught me swordsmanship so that I could master the ways of the Arcane Warrior. Damn near broke my heart when she and Nethras got married, but he and I remained as brothers, and I was honored beyond all measure when they asked me to be their child's godfather. I delivered her the day Eva the day she was born. I cut her cord and put her in Evanura's arms myself. Nethras said he was never prouder to have me as his brother. Happiest day of my life."_

"_Parenthood is indeed a blessing."_ Solas commented with a genuine smile.

"_What…what happened to them?"_ Cassandra asked curiously.

Rajmael tried to hold back a look of forlorn grief. _"They…they were killed, two years ago. A human raid led by templars."_

A profound silence came over them all, and Cassandra felt that guilty feeling wrench in her gut.

"_But…but you said that Evanura and Nethras were the best swordfighter and hunter in your clan."_ Josephine said with shock_. "How could they have died?"_

"_Even the best can die when they're distracted."_ Rajmael answered sadly. _"Evanura was too busy trying to get Eva away from the templars to fight them, and was…killed by arrows."_ Rajmael choked back faint sob. _"We managed to fight the humans off, but I lost many clanmates that day. Nethras was so overcome with grief and rage that he tried to hunt down the templars who killed his wife. It took us a week to track him down. And when we found him, he had already been killed. Surrounded by the bodies of seven templars, and burned so badly, I only recognized him because of the wedding band on his finger. I lost many clanmates, the two people I loved most, and Eva became an orphan, all because of one stupid mistake. And after that I became Eva's guardian."_

Suddenly both Cullen and Cassandra began to look and feel horribly guilty. Even Sera began to shift uncomfortably in her seat.

"_So that's why your god-daughter was so frightened of me."_ Cullen stated with guilt on his face.

"_Yes."_ Rajmael emphasized bitterly_. "Those templars came because they wanted to take the children in my clan who had magic. They wanted to save them from treachery of elven heresy, they said. So perhaps now you can appreciate why I have such…disregard for the Chantry, and what it is that I'm truly fighting for."_

They continued talking throughout the night, about Eva, about their own families. How Cullen had three siblings, and how he could almost never beat his sister Mia at chess. Josephine talked about her brothers' shipping business, how her mother sent her to University in Val Royeaux, and about how much she missed her family. Leliana spoke about Lady Cecile and how studying music and dance with her was what got her started in the life of a bard. They all continued to talk to each other about their past with one another long into the night, and while they may not have realized it, they were becoming closer to a family than most could know.

**The Next Morning….**

When Rajmael woke the next morning he wasn't surprised to see that Eva was no longer in his room. He wasn't worried, Eva didn't travel this far just to get lost. He calmly searched around and was extremely surprised, and almost scared, to find Eva in the Undercroft with Dagna. The Dwarven Arcanist and Rajmael's adopted daughter were discussing the differences between the Circle's mainstream curriculum of magic and the practicality of traditional Elvhen magic.

"_But that makes no sense."_ Dagna stated mid conversation_. "To conjure a spell that powerful, the mage in question would need vast amounts of lyrium to replenish the mana he exhausted in his being. Trying something like that would kill him."_

"_No, wrong."_ Eva stated as a matter of fact_. "A mage can absorb the ambient energy of the spells he already cast, like a sponge, and use it to replenish the mana he's already lost. Like a tree absorbing sunlight for energy."_

"_Such techniques have never been attempted before in the Circle. There's too much risk involved."_ Dagna informed.

"_That's because Circle mages don't have to live out the woods everyday where we Dalish need to use our magic to survive."_ Eva explained. _"And, unlike you Circle types, we don't have access to boatloads of lyrium, so we take our mana from wherever we can get it. And the more magic we expend, the more mana we can reabsorb. There are things you can't learn through theory and study, live practice and survival is always the best teacher. That's what my mommy used to say."_

"_Having a friendly debate, are we, ladies?"_ Rajmael asked smilingly.

"_Oh, Inquisitor, Eva's told me more about elven magic in the past half hour than I ever learned in the Circle!"_ Dagna gushed. She hugged Eva close to her like she was her favorite stuffed animal. _"Aw, and she's just so cute, I want to take her home and keep her!"_

"_And as an Arcanist, what do you think of the use and application of Elvhen magic?"_ Rajmael asked proudly.

"_Oh, it's much more practical than Circle magic."_ Dagna answered with honest enthusiasm. _"Circle mages have to spend years trying to understand the basics through reading and theory, but you Dalish elves actually put theory into practice, and then you pass it on through living example. Like the difference between judging a sword and actually forging it."_

Rajmael smiled at his goddaughter proudly. _"I'm glad Eva, and our magic, was able to impress you."_

"_Oh, it's all impressive!"_ Dagna complimented truthfully_. "Before you came here, I never actually believed in the stories about Dalish elves using wooden swords. I mean, no offense, but, I first thought 'who does such a thing?' 'It can't be true!' as a dwarf I thought such a thing was ridiculous!"_ Dagna confessed. _"But then I saw your sword, Enasalin, and you made a believer out of me. Unlike other people, who like to force the world to their will, the elves take the natural world and bend it, reshape it into something beautiful."_

A sense of pride swelled in Rajmael as Dagna spoke. The Arcanist saw and appreciated things with an open mind, and looked for the good instead of seeing things through preconceived notions. He even more proud of Eva for giving Dagna such a positive outlook.

**~XoXoXo~**

The two elves left the Undercroft and made their way around the keep. While Eva was here, Rajmael decided to show off in front of her, and what better way to do that than to show her around his brand new castle? Eva's eyes lit up like candles, she had never before been inside a castle before, and the grandness of Skyhold took her breath away.

They made their way back over to the stables where Neirin was kept, where Eva fulfilled her promise and gave the big, white halla a bushel of carrots. Neirin munched happily on his precious snack and allowed Eva to straddle his back while he ate.

Horsemaster Dennet walked in and was genuinely impressed to seeing a child as small as her actually sitting on a halla.

_"Huh. If that done beat all."_ Dennet said disbelievingly._ "At the Inquisitor's discretion, I was able to ride that halla, and I must admit, I felt twenty years younger doing so. But the stubborn beast has refused to let me even get that close ever since."_

Neirin gave a few stamps and grunts between chewing his carrots. Eva leaned in and nodded as if she could understand him.

_"Well, that's because you approach him like he's a horse, a beast of burden meant to carry you. Neirin finds it insulting."_ Eva explained gingerly.

_"So, what, I should bow and ask permission before getting to close?"_ The Horsemaster asked half-joking.

Neirin grunted and bleated in response.

_"He said that would be a good start."_ Eva translated, a _bright smile on her face. It didn't seem like she was joking_

_"Don't take it personally, Master Dennet." Rajmael chucked. "Halla are naturally stubborn creatures, and elves are have had the most time to form a positive relationship with them."_

_"Can Neirin and I go out for a ride, Rajmael? Please?"_ Eva pleaded with those big eyes of hers.

How could Rajmael possibly say no? _"Of course, Eva. I know of a glen nearby that would be perfect."_

Rajmael led his halla and adopted daughter out to a wide open glen just outside of Skyhold on its western slope. The glen was naturally guarded from the Frostback's harsh winds by the mountainsides that covered it, and it was far down enough to where there was still warmth on the ground. It was green with grass and the air was warm, with Ferelden wildflowers blooming all around. It was a perfect place to ride.

Rajmael watched with pride and joy at the sight of Eva riding Neirin so well. Watching her riding at full gallop, her white-gold hair in the wind and that beaming smile on her face, she looked so much like her mother it was almost heartbreaking. Eva inherited all the talent and grace of her mother, and every ounce of her father's fearlessness. Rajmael used to think only Nethras could have so much brass that would he would risk both Ariva and Keeper Deshana's wrath by sneaking out of the camp behind their backs.

The Inquisitor remembered back to the days when he and Eva's parents were younger, and the three of them would ride hard through the forest, each of them trying to outdo the others. Now seeing Eva with that same youthful spirit made Rajmael yearn for his home amongst his clan even more. However that desire was paled in comparison to the happiness he felt just watching his adopted daughter riding Neirin so beautifully.

Josephine made her way down the steps from the keep to the glen where one of the servants said they saw the Inquisitor going. Maker's breath, the shoes she was wearing were just horrible for long treks like this. But she needed to get the Inquisitor to sign and approve these latest trade agreements and diplomatic treaties. Why would he come all the way out here when there was so much work to be done?

Josephine quickly found her answer when she saw the Inquisitor standing in the middle of the glen waving to Eva as she rode his white halla with the grace and skill that most noble ladies could only wish they possessed. The smile on his face was unlike anything Josephine had ever seen from him before. In the time Josephine had known the Inquisitor, she had never seen him so happy.

Seeing such a lovely moment between a father and child made Josephine think of her own childhood when her papa would take her around his art studio and let her paint on his canvases. Josephine smiled and left the Inquisitor to be with Eva. What were trade agreements and diplomatic treaties when compared to quality time between a parent and child?

**~XoXoXo~**

Towards noon, Rajmael and Eva found themselves in Skyhold's sparring area. He felt it was appropriate, both as her adopted father, and as the First of Clan Lavellan, to see how well her skills were developing. The two grabbed training swords and commenced to sparring.

Rajmael brought his sword down on Eva with control and precision, Eva blocked it with perfect timing, and struck back. He evaded and counterstruck at her head, she dodged, recovered, and assaulted. Eva's skill was indeed growing. She had the perfect balance of speed, tenacity and force. She inherited her mother's gift for the sword, and her father's indomitable will.

"_She's quite impressive."_ Cassandra complimented on the other side of the sparring fence.

"_She inherited her mother's skill, and her father's spirit."_ Rajmael added proudly_. "Would you like to spar with her?"_

"_Oh, no, I shouldn't."_ Cassandra said reluctantly. _"I don't want to hurt her."_

"_Nonsense, Cassandra. I know you won't hurt her."_ Rajmael insisted. _"She's far too good for that to happen."_

"_Oh?"_ Cassandra balked skeptically. _"I'm not sure if you've noticed, Inquisitor, but I'm not too bad with a sword myself."_

"_You'll fight dragons, abominations and demons, but you won't spar with a little elven girl?"_ Eva asked tauntingly. _"Or are you afraid that after killing so many things that you'll _lose_ to said little elven girl?"_

Cassandra almost liked this child's persistence, but she wasn't going to get into such an unfair match. _"Maybe when you're older, Eva."_

"_How about we make it interesting, Cassandra? A little wager?"_ Rajmael suggested_. "You and Eva have a match to first strike. If Eva wins, you have to wear a beautiful dress that extenuates your feminine charms to a special occasion of my choosing."_

A deathly grimace twisted on Cassandra's face at the very suggestion of her wearing a dress. It was almost too much to bear_. "And why should I even consider such a proposal? What could you offer that would equal such a bet?"_

That wide, mischievous grin spread across Rajmael's face_. "If you strike Eva first, I'll get Varric to finish writing the next issue of Swords and Shields."_

The Seeker's blush would shame a tomato. _"How…how do you know about that?!"_ Cassandra asked confounded and completely embarrassed.

"_I saw what you read at night when you think I'm asleep."_ Rajmael grinned. _"And I know you're waiting for the next issue. I can get it for you by week's end. But only if you accept our little bet."_

The next issue of Swords and Shields, or being forced to wear a dress? It was a very difficult choice for her. If she was seen in a dress she'd never hear the end of it from anyone, especially Rajmael. But it would only be for one night, but on the flipside, if she won, she'd get the next issue to the best book series ever written, and it'd be hers forever.

The stakes were just too high to pass up. _"Very well, Rajmael." Cassandra answered apprehensively. "I'll accept your terms."_

Rajmael's smile became even more wicked_. "Alright, Cassandra. I'll leave you two to get ready, I'll be right back."_

Rajmael walked off into the keep while Eva and Cassandra picked out their practice swords. Cassandra couldn't help but feel conflicted about fighting such a little girl, but her confliction was quickly replaced with dread when Rajmael came walking out with all their compatriots. Rajmael had the shit-eating grin on his face that Cassandra wanted to just smack off his skull. _"What…are…you all…doing here?"_

"_Is what I'm hearing correct, Cassandra, dear?"_ Vivienne asked intrigued_. "You've taken a wager where you'll wear a dress if you lose?"_

"_I still cannot believe it." _Leliana commented. _"Cassandra wouldn't wear a dress unless Andraste herself commanded her too."_

"_Well, the Herald of Andraste is just as good, I imagine."_ Blackwall chuckled.

Iron Bull's laugh shook his whole body. _"Thanks for telling me about this, boss. There's no way I'd ever want to miss this."_

"_I don't think our entertainment at the Seeker's expense is something to laugh about, Bull."_ Solas chided. _"But I must admit the prospect of seeing our martially inclined wearing a gown does have its prospects."_

"_You too, Commander Cullen."_ Cassandra asked grievously.

Cullen scratched the back of his head nervously_. "Well…I've got nothing better to do right now, and this sounded like it'd be interesting."_

"_And here I thought a giant hole in the sky was the weirdest thing that could happen."_ Varric said disbelievingly. _"But don't worry, Seeker, I'll keep my end of the bargain if this goes in your favor. And I'll even be discreet about it."_

The last thing Cassandra wanted was for Varric to tell anyone else about her secret guilty pleasure. Rajmael and Eva stood side by side with that same impish grin on their faces, practically taunting her. Well, whenever she found herself pressed against the wall, she always resorted to fighting. There was no need to change now.

"_Try not to go too hard on her."_ Rajmael bid as he lit his pipe.

"_I won't leave any lasting injuries."_ Cassandra promised.

"_Oh? I was, er, I was talking to Eva."_ Rajmael confessed with Eva smiling widely at Cassandra.

Eva and Cassandra stood against each other and assumed their stances. Cassandra carried no shield, she felt guilty enough fighting a ten year old, she didn't need to give herself even more of an advantage than she already had. Just to first strike, one strike and this little show would be done, and she'd get her newest edition of Swords and Shields.

Cassandra started with a halfhearted swing at Eva, but the elf easily dodged the harmless swing. Eva, however, did not share Cassandra's confliction. The young elf attacked with incredible tenacity and grace that was half trained, half instinct. Cassandra was so surprised, and impressed, she actually had to go on the defensive for a moment.

Unlike Rajmael, who liked to hold his ground and make swift, one draw, one kill attacks, Eva incorporated a great deal of athleticism and acrobatics to move around her opponent and get a superior angle of attack, forcing Cassandra back and keeping her on her toes. Cassandra was actually, thoroughly impressed with Eva's training and skill. No longer holding back, the Seeker swung her practice sword with full force and effort, forcing Eva to defend and use her acrobatics to dodge out of the way.

Cassandra wasn't going to lose her chance to get the newest issue of Swords &amp; Shields, and there was no way she was _**ever**_ going to be forced to wear a dress. Cassandra swung a horizontal strike at Eva, Eva did a backwards somersault to dodge it. Before Eva landed, Cassandra advanced so quickly on the elf-child that the instant she touched ground Cassandra was so close she threw Eva off balance, and Eva fell backward on to the grass. With victory near, Cassandra brought her sword down on Eva to finish this little contest.

"_Please, don't hurt me!"_ Eva cried desperately.

Cassandra's sword stopped when she realized what she was doing. How could she even think of doing such a thing?

Eva's sprung back to her feet, sword in hand and jabbed Cassandra square in the ribs, much to everyone's shock and surprise, especially Cassandra's. Eva held her sword to Cassandra with a victorious smile on her face, and then walked off.

Everyone laughed in surprise and congratulations, while Cassandra stood stiff as a pole and in utter shock. Eva tricked her and she fell for it so readily. Well, she wasn't going to give Rajmael the satisfaction of her acting like a sore loser, she would accept her defeat with dignity and grace that beffited a Seeker of Truth. She placed her practice sword back on the rack and tried to walk away with said dignity and grace.

"_Ah-ha-ha! Great job, kid!"_ Iron Bull boomed.

"_And here I thought it would snow in the Hissing Wastes before Cassandra lost to ten year old." _Blackwall stated almost stunned. _"I guess they must shoveling the snow out of the desert right now."_

"_Wow, nice job of pulling off one of the oldest tricks in the book, Squirt."_ Varric congratulated_. "I don't know whether to be impressed or scared."_

"_She pretended to be scared, but she was laughing inside."_ Cole said almost confused_. "Why pretend to be when she wasn't?"_

"_War is on through deception." _Solas answered. _"Sometimes it's better to out think your opponent than out fight them."_

"_Friggin' good one, that is!"_ Sera chortled. _"I'll have to remember that one."_

"_I don't think I can actually believe what I just saw."_ Cullen confessed with blank look on his face.

"_Cassandra, dear, I don't wish to seem callous to your loss, but when you have the time, I have the most gorgeous line of dresses you to try."_ Vivienne urged.

"_It should be pitch black with deep crimson accents."_ Leliana suggested dreamily. _"With the skirt tied so that it shows off a bit of those lovely legs. And the shoes! I have just the perfect pair of Montsimmard styled high heels that will look just divine with your gown!"_

"_I think she could do with a bit of jewelry, don't you?"_ Dorian suggested with that signature grin on his face_. "A little bit of skilled artifice always brings out more beauty in a woman._

"_I'll have to find the perfect occasion for such a momentous event."_ Josephine said as she looked down her clipboard_. "We cannot let such an opportunity pass us by."_

"_Ugh! I…am never going to hear the end of this, am I?"_ Cassandra groaned.

"_Oh, come on, Cassandra. It's not that bad."_ Rajmael insisted smilingly. _"When you've actually worn the dress, you'll never hear the end of it!"_

"_Ugh!"_ Cassandra rolled her eyes in disgust.

"_And we'll probably all forget that you lost a contest of arms to a ten year old."_ Rajmael laughed as he picked up Eva and tossed her in the air, Eva laughing in pure joy.

**Later in the Garden**

The day was drawing to an end, and so too was Eva's stay here at Skyhold. It pained Rajmael to send her away, but as long as he was the Inquisitor he would have enemies, and they would target him through any mean possible. So far, no one else outside Rajmael's companions knew about his adopted daughter and he needed it to stay that way. He needed to send her somewhere safe away from him, where the Venatori could not infiltrate.

"_Thank you for meeting me here on such short notice, Mythra of Ostagar."_ Rajmael greeted his fellow Dalish elf.

"_It is an honor to be here."_ The Dalish Hunter returned. _"Keeper Lanaya sends the blessings of our clan. You do our people proud to have risen so high, even the shemlen show you respect."_

Mythra was from the Clan of Dalish elves that had been given the lands of Ostagar by King Alistair for coming to his kingdom's aid during the Blight. This gift filled all the Dalish clans with gratitude and pride, never before had shemlen monarch acknowledged their people in such a manner. Some Dalish flocked there in the hopes of setting down roots, but many, apprehensive about living so close to humans, continued to wonder with their clans. Keeper Lanaya's wisdom and diplomacy quickly became legendary amongst the clans for her tempered and wise dealings with the humans. Ostagar would be the perfect place for Eva to go. Even Venatori couldn't infiltrate the Dalish.

"_You understand the importance of this favor I ask of you, Mythra? And why it must remain secret?"_ Rajmael asked seriously.

"_I understand completely, Inquisitor. I swear to Mythal and all the Creators, your daughter will not come to harm with our people."_ Mythra promised.

Eva approachd, with a sad look twisting on her face, she didn't want to leave. _"Rajmael, please…."_ Eva begged.

Rajmael felt his heartbreaking. This was hurting her more than it could ever hurt him_. "Da'vhenan, I don't want to send you away either, but I don't want you in danger because of me. Mytra will keep you safe. See the lands of Ostagar, and, when you're ready, go back to our clan in Wycome. See the lands that our people have earned, live a better life than I have."_

Eva hugged Rajmael's neck and held him close_. "What kind of life will I lead if I don't have you in it?"_

"_Only the Creators know, Eva." _Rajmael said consolingly as he hugged her to him_. "Only you can choose how you lead your life."_

"_I promise, I'll always honor you and the Creators."_ Eva swore tearfully.

"_Before we go, Inquisitor. There is something Keeper Lanaya wished to give you."_ Mythra informed. Several of her clanmates carried in a small shrine made out of the hollowed stump of an Ironwood tree. And in the shrine was the image of all nine Creators and the Dread Wolf carved from sylvanwood. "_We felt you deserved something of our people as you now represent us amongst the shemlen. And to remind you that you have the gods' blessings."_

The shrine was magnificently carved by a master craftsman. The inside of the shrine was set with amber that lit like gold when the hollowed trunk was opened, and the images of the Creators were done with incredible skill and mastery. Before they left, Rajmael felt it was appropriate to leave a prayer.

"_Mythal, All-Mother, Protector and Vanquisher, watch over my ward and grante her your protection. Ghilan'nain, grant Eva a safe journey and fair winds as she journeys to Ostagar. Dirthamen, Lord of Secrets, grant her the wisdom and knowledge to live well as she steps into a new chapter of her life."_ Rajmael beseeched his gods as he knelt before them.

"_Andruil, Lady of the Hunt, grant Rajmael success in this hunt against the evil he pursues, let his arrows be accurate, and his sword sharp. Sylaise, Hearth Keeper, grant your protection upon this keep in which he stands. Elgar'nan, All-Father, First Born of the Sky, grant Rajmael your strength and visit your vengeance upon his enemies." _Eva prayed alongside her adopted father.

Cassandra could see that some of the Chantry Sisters and members of the faithful were uncomfortable with seeing these elves praying to their gods in the Garden. She supposed she could understand their discomfort, but she didn't care. They called upon their faith to protect them, and give them hope, no different than how any Andrastian did. There were some in the Chantry who believed such a thing was the most heinous of evils, but Cassandra could see no evil here. Just a father and his daughter praying for strength and hope as they were about to separated once more.

Before Eva left with Mythra, Eva approached Cassandra with hope in her eyes. Cassandra knelt down to look at Eva in the eye, and was surprised when Eva hugged her around the neck.

"_Please, protect him."_ Eva begged with tears brimming in her beautiful green eyes. _"He's all the family I have left."_

Cassandra felt her heart stir inside her inside her chest, and gently hugged the weeping child to her. _"I swear, I will never let anything happen to him."_

"_I know you've taken my mother's place in Rajmael's heart, Seeker."_ Eva sad almost sadly_. "I can see that you share her spirit."_

Cassandra was truly touched by this girl's sincerity and sorrow. _"I…don't know if I'm worthy of being compared to your mother, Eva. But I will strive to be."_ Eva hugged Cassandra once more and kissed her on the cheek, making Cassandra blush intensely. She could feel Rajmael's heartbreak as he watched her walk away with Mythra.

Rajmael stood on the cliff outside Skyhold and watched with tears in his eyes as Eva and her entourage walked through the Frostbacks and out of sight. All the while he prayed his heart out that his gods would watch after her. Everything he does, he does it for her.

**~XoXoXo~**

Cassandra had changed into her night clothes before retiring for the night. When Cassandra came into Rajmael' bedroom, she found him already sitting on the bed with that sad look on his face. She was never good at comforting people, she never had reason to. But for Rajmael she was willing to try.

She crawled on the bed and wrapped her arms around Rajmael's chest, and held him close to her. _"I must confess, Rajmael, your relationship with Eva reminds me of what the one I had with my brother."_ Cassandra whispered into his ear_. "Antony was more of a parent to me than my uncle was, and when he died I felt my whole world shatter. I understand now why you wanted to leave so badly when we first met. And I don't blame you, not anymore."_

Rajmael turned his head to face Cassandra, trying to overlook his sorrow with a smile_. "But if I had left, I would not have found love again. Sometimes taking the path we don't want leads us on the path we truly need. I'm happy to be here with you, and I'm happy that you got to meet Eva."_

"_I am as well. She is an enchanting child."_ Cassandra felt her face blushing again, but she was no longer ashamed of it_. "I…I hope that when this is over the Chantry can make up for what it's done to the elves. Perhaps the Maker sent you to be the bridge for your people."_

"_Everything I did, I did it for Eva's sake."_ Rajmael replied. _"I want her to grow up in a world where she isn't persecuted for being an elf and for adhering to our culture. Maybe even have children of her own on land that is hers. That is why I am here."_

"_Securing your people's place in Wycome is definitely a step in the right direction."_ Cassandra complimented. _"I have no doubt you will do more by the time our task is done."_

Rajmael smiled that bright smile of his again. _"Before I forget, there's one thing I want to give you."_ He reached around and handed Cassandra something that stole her breath away.

Cassandra couldn't believe her eyes. The latest issue of Swords &amp; Shields! He actually got Varric to finish writing it! "_But…why? I lost the bet!"_

"_Because I thought this might cushion the blow of your loss a little bit." _Rajmael answered. _"And besides, I love seeing you smile."_

"_You've certainly succeeded."_ Cassandra beamed as she planted a kiss on Rajmael's lips. _"I wonder have time to read the first part."_

Despite the horrid prospect of being paraded like a prize horse in a dress, and the fact that she'd been forced to wear a dress, despite her principals, she couldn't help but feel so happy right now. Rajmael was definitely the ideal man she wanted, he was always ready to sweep her of her feet. And right now he was succeeding.

"_I skimmed through the book a little bit and I found a rather steamy part on page 226. I thought maybe we could reenact it."_

Cassandra returned that sly grin of his. _"Well, seeing as I haven't read that part yet, maybe you could…narrate it for me?"_

Rajmael crawled over Cassandra as she laid down on her back. His lips pressed against hers, his tongue flicked against her mouth, inviting hers to come out, an invitation she gladly accepted. Their mouths separated and he started planting kisses along her neck down to her chest, and he began peeling her night clothes off with his teeth. Oh, Cassandra knew that page 226 was going to be her favorite chapter in this book.

She would never feel ashamed for what she felt for Rajmael, nor would she ever feel ashamed for what he believed in. All that mattered was how she felt about him, and she couldn't help but love him, and his adopted daughter. The Maker brought him to her, that was His blessing to her, and she would never question it.

**Language Code:**

**Aneth ara:** An elven greeting, translates as_ "My safe Place."_

**Da'vhenan:** An elven term of affection, translates as _"Little Heart."_

**Mir Dal'en Somniar:** An elven lullaby, translates as, _"The Child's Dream"._


	14. Playing the Game: Part I

**Playing the Game Part I**

_"I know what Corypheus' next move will be."_ Josephine proclaimed in the War Room.

_"You just stumbled on this, Madam Ambassador?"_ Cullen asked skeptically.

_"In that future Rajmael visited, he said that the south fell into chaos because Empress Celen was assassinated."_ Josephine explained.

_"Orlais already in a state of civil turmoil. The fighting and destruction is almost as bad as it was in Ferelden."_ Leliana informed. _"Empress Celene is doing her best to try and cease the fighting, but if she were to suddenly die…."_

_"The balance of power will be thrown out of control, and everyone will be too busy fighting for the Orlesian throne while an army of demons marches down on them!"_ Cullen concluded_. "And with the most powerful nation in the South destroyed, the rest of Thedas will follow."_

_"The Empress' death will be Corypheus' keystone into the invasion and conquest of Thedas."_ Rajmael stated grimly. _"This cannot be allowed to happen. Have we sent warning to the Empress?"_

_"We have, but the Empress' court is not so receptive of us."_ Josephine answered. _"They see us as another political rival for control."_

_"Right, because assassination is just all too common Orlais."_ Rajmael said sardonically. _"Just one more on the Empress' life is no big thing. They just haven't taken into account what will happen if the assassin succeeds."_

_"I know where this assassination will take place." _Josephine stated. _"The fighting in Orlais isn't going well for any side. Celene and Gaspard's armies continue to fight in a stalemate while Briala's rebels harry them both. To that end Grand Duchess Florianne has called for a peace summit at the Winter Palace in Halamshiral. Absolutely everyone will be there. During the festivities, Empress Celene will be entering peace talks with the usurper Duke Gaspard, and Ambassador Briala."_

_"With so many enemies under one roof, it would be the perfect place for an assassin to hide."_ Leliana spoke from professional experience. _"And is she should die with all her supporters and enemies present, they'll tear each other apart."_

_"Halamshiral?"_ Rajmael completely forgot about the mission at hand as he remembered the bitter sweetness of that place. Once the capital of the Dalish Kingdom, but was destroyed when during the Exalted March when they human's broke their treaty and destroyed everything his people tried to rebuild after a thousand years of slavery. The elves who still live there, now lived like servants and slaves under humans rule, and every Dalish elf remembers its loss with sadness and anger. Rajmael needed to snap out of it. _"Um…tell me about the contenders of this war. I'm afraid I don't know as much as I would like about what's been going on in this civil dispute."_

_"He's the man who would have been Emperor. Some still think he should be."_ Cullen answered sternly. _"He's Celene's cousin, and the first to inherit the throne after Emperor Florian died. But Celene outmaneuvered him. She won over the Council of Heralds, who hold authority over all title disputes. She became the Empress, and Gaspard became The General of the Imperial Army, so he's is greatly loved by his troops. He is also the head of the Chevalier Order, most sided with him when he turned on the Empress."_

_"They swore an oath to serve the empire didn't they? Why would they help instigate a civil war?"_

_"Chevaliers have always been a guileless lot, but in this case they feel they are justified."_ Cullen answered. _"Empress Celene has been working to improve relations with Ferelden and Nevarra, the Chevaliers see her as antimilitary. They believe the Gaspard can lead them back to the glory days of Drakon's expansionist years. By that logic, they believe they are serving the Empire."_

Rajmael hocked a lugi and spat it on the ground, all his councilors looked at with mixed confusion and disgust. _"What? All elves despise chevaliers. You can't trust the honor of someone who slays elves as an initiation rite. What do we know about the Empress besides public knowledge?"_

_"Empress Celene is a renowned diplomat and reformer."_ Josephine answered. _"She has worked tirelessly to try and secure peace for the empire, but many Orlesians mistake peace for complacency. She has not named an heir, nor has she ever considered taking on a suitor, leaving the fate of her throne uncertain should anything happen to her. Especially considering that her cousin Gaspard would be next in line, and he's made very few friends within the Orlesian Court."_

_"Celene can also be incredibly ruthless, she'll do anything to get what she wants, by any means necessary."_ Leliana added grimly.

Leliana's comment was a bit of surprise. _"What do you mean by that, Leliana?"_

_"Before the war started Empress Celene was granting concessions to make the lives of elves more tolerable in Orlais. Some of the nobles backing Gaspard began smear campaign that said that she favored the elves over true Orlesians, and when the elves began rebelling in Halamshiral, she burned their Alienage herself to discredit the allegations."_

_"And how do you know this?"_ Rajmael inquired.

_"I'm the spymaster for a reason, Inquisitor."_ Leliana evaded.

_"And what about this Ambassador Briala?"_

_"An Ambassador in name only."_ Leliana answered. _"Sometime after the purge of Halamshiral's Alienage, Briala organized the elves of Orlais into an effective guerilla army, and they've all but crippled both Celene and Gaspard's forces. Celene has invited Briala to the talks in the hopes of getting the elves to aid her in her bid for the throne, which is scandal enough. There are rumors stating that Briala is in fact a jilted lover of Celene's, and that was the reason for the smear campaign against her."_

_"An elf sleeping with the shemlen empress who oppresses them?"_ Rajmael questioned. _"Mmm! Trust me, that wouldn't go over well with a lot of elves."_

_"It is only a rumor, one whispered on the lips of many servants. But if true, the empress and an elf? The scandal alone would destroy Celene."_ Leliana confirmed. _"A personal grudge, and an army of saboteurs at her command? A most promising lead."_

_"I assume we're not going into the lion's den blind?"_

_"With Gaspard and Celene's armies so deeply entrenched, we cannot march our soldiers to the Winter Palace."_ Cullen noted. _"And if we're tracking down Venatori, I doubt there'll be just one, there's going to be a whole operation in there."_

_"My agents will be posted inside waiting for your men, Commander."_ Leliana assured_. "But we will need to sneak your men in a few at a time to avoid notice."_

_"And I have already secured us an invitation from Duke Gaspard himself."_ Josephine added. _"The Empress is worried that we'll upset the delicate power balance, and Gaspard is all too happy to tweak his cousin's nose."_

_"Then in that case there's only one problem left." _Rajmael stated dismally.

_"And what's that Inquisitor?"_ Cullen asked.

"_Finding the right threads for what is sure to be a memorable evening."_

_"Oh, Josie, Vivienne and I may have a few ideas."_ Leliana informed with a look that somehow reminded Rajmael of a cat about to pounce on a mouse. He didn't know whether to be relieved or scared.

**~XoXoXo~**

Somewhere in one of the hidden corridors in Skyhold, Leliana found a hidden room almost as large as the Inquisition vault, and she filled the whole damned thing with the latest fashions from Val Royeaux. They had everything, shoes, surcoats, gloves, accessories, everything from buttons to zippers. Already Leliana, Josephine and Vivienne descended upon the garish clothes line likes vultures on a dead carcass.

_"My dear Leliana, wherever did she find such a wonderful collection of ensembles?"_ Vivienne asked wondrously.

_"Well, everyone needs a hobby. And I just can't buy shoes without having the right dress to go with them."_ Leliana answered sheepishly.

_"And I added to this little collection knowing that eventually we were going to make a formal appearance to the courts."_ Josephine informed_. "I have just the uniforms picked out for this ball."_ Josephine pulled out several matching uniforms made of highest quality red velvet. They were styled in traditional dress uniform and they were perfectly tailored to everyone's size.

_"Oh, no, no, no, dear Josephine."_ Vivienne rejected politely_. "We are all a part of the Inquisition yes, but we are the elite of the Inquisition. And we should wear only the finest ensembles that prove that we are. It just wouldn't do for us to look like peons."_

_"That…is a fair point."_ Josephine conceded_. "And there are some things here that I've wanted to wear for a special occasion."_

_"Well, let's get everyone in here, and we'll pick out the perfect clothes line out for them."_ Leliana giggled. _"Picking an outfit for Rajmael will be a little difficult, he'll want to wear something that shows off his Elven heritage, but I'll make sure he at least wears shoes."_

_"But let's not forget who deserves our attention the most: Seeker Pentaghast."_ Vivienne reminded with a sly grin on her face.

_"I've been waiting for this day for years."_ Leliana laughed.

_"This will be so much fun."_ Josephine commented.

**One Brief Fashion Montage Later….**

After a few painstaking hours of preparation, threats, bribes and possible emotional scarring, everyone was ready for the Winter Palace. They rode from Skyhold to Halamshiral with an entourage of their soldiers. This was definitely going to be a night to remember, as demonstrated by how some of them had dressed. When they arrived, the receptionists at the gates were shocked and awed by the Inquisitor and his entourage.

Dorian wore the traditional dress clothing of the Tevinter Elite, a layered plum surcoate designed with dragon motifs and a lace collar wearing a brooch with heraldry of House Pavus, and on his back was embroidery with the Sigil of the Inquisition. Dorian had no issues with wearing or even being seen in Tevinter cloth, he could make anything look good, and he could make anyone love him for wearing it, he said.

Cullen and Iron Bull were both a difficult task. Vivienne wanted Cullen to wear the dress uniform of the Knight-Commander, but he refused as he was no longer a Templar. And she wanted Iron Bull to wear this most garish purple vest and jacket with a ruffled collar and poofy pantaloons. Iron Bull politely insinuated that he wouldn't be caught dead in that thing. So they both decided to wear the red dress uniform Josephine prepared, but Cullen agreed to wear his service medals, and his ribbons to distinguish wear he served. Iron Bull wore it on the condition that he could wear some of the trophies he won that said what jobs he pulled like medals. Some Great Bear hide, Wyvern scale, Giant's hair and piece of a Dragon's Tooth.

Cole also decided to just wear the Inquisition Dress Uniform as well. No one would see or remember him, and he like the colors on the clothes. Josephine was even nice enough to find him a matching hat for the uniform.

Sera almost violently eschewed any kind of formal wear. _"Don't want to look like a shit",_ she said. Not such a bad thing, Sera was more useful as a stealth operative, and she couldn't do that in lace and high heels, but formal wear was non-negotiable. So, she opted to wear the formal clothing of the Inquisition as well.

Of course Vivienne decided to wear only the latest and most fashionably up to fate ensemble. She did, after all, have a reputation to maintain within the Orlesian Court. It was modeled after her usual garb, but it was designed with intricate, overlapping layers of white garments that clung and flowed around her figure, and embroided with silver and pearls along the edges. She wore gilded thigh high boots with modest heel, laced with silver and bird designs. And, of course, she wore her signature split henin and her courtly mask inlaid with white-gold and lyrium crystals.

Leliana wore a very effeminate jacket and blouse of red and white, which complimented her figure and did very well to hide any weapons she'll be carrying. The red and white Leliana wore were the colors of the Chantry servants, embroided with the Andrastian Sunburst and Eye of the Inquisition, and it did well to compliment her red hair. She wore thigh high boots with gilded buckles, incredibly high heels that forced her to walk on the balls of her feet, and white leggings that clung to her shapely legs.

Josephine wore a ball gown that was reminiscent to her work clothes, only more extravagant. An intricate ruffled skirt that was like curtain of purple and gold, her blouse had a low neckline, and cut low in the back, which showed off her delicate, dusky skin. Her hair was intricately braided upwards, held in place by ruby hair pens, and a golden necklace with baubles of rubies and onyx laced around her elegant neck.

Blackwall tried to hide it, but he could barely keep his eyes off Josephine. Their residential Grey Warden was wearing a silver-colored coat with blue linings that complimented his upper body strength incredibly well. He bore the Warden Constable's Badge proudly on his chest, and pinned right next to it was the Silverite Wings of Valor. Blackwall didn't notice, but Josephine loved how he looked in formal wear, and the medals made her look at him even more.

Solas was a bit of a challenge. He always preferred wool and furs to silks and velvet, being a wandering apostate. Leliana graciously gave him the formal wear of a Thedosian Scholar, given his vast knowledge and sage-like demeanor, she felt it was only appropriate. Solas gladly accepted, though he chose to eschew wearing footwear, and wore a pendant of the Inquisition on his coat.

Varric wasn't one for formal wear, or for galas in general for that matter. While he loved to have money in his pocket, he wasn't suited for the life of luxury that the nobility loved to have. He'd much rather be at a tavern with scoundrels and thugs than sipping wine with the elite of Thedas. But seeing as the Orlesians assassinate anyone who don't even wear the right color for this season's shoe buckle, Varric decided to wear the formal wear of a deshyr of the Dwarven Merchant's Guild. He opened the collar to enough to show off his glorious chest hair, his signature identity, and Vivienne did say it was important to keep up appearances.

Rajmael was most uncomfortable in wearing finery, her preferred function to fashion, but he also knew the importance of appearances, especially in the face of potential enemies and allies. Knowing his fondness for the coat his Keeper bequeathed to him, Leliana dressed him in a formal white long coat with militaristic dressings. The long coat had leather tassels on the coat ends that Rajmael carved several of the Creators' names on to for protection, and the back was stitched with the Sigil of the Inquisition. His vest was made of finest black Great Bear hide and was embroided with floral patterns. Rajmael wasn't used to wearing these long, black leather boots, having them cover his feet, it was unnatural. Wearing leather on his feet; he may as well be walking with his feet in an animal's carcass. And as a special edition to the ensemble, Rajmael wore a like sash over his coat like a badge of honor, it bore the crest and colors of Clan Lavellan.

Rajmael's jaw practically fell to the floor when he Cassandra. She wore a neckless, and shoulderless gown with deep crimson accents along the edges, and the skirt was an intricate swirl of red and black, like red blood on black ink, with scarlet roses attached to it. Covering her strong, slender arms were these black silken gloves that reached up to her biceps, and wore small golden chain bracelets around her wrists. On the very edge of her top, towards her generous cleavage, was a pendant that bore the Heraldry of the Pentaghast Family. And by some miracle, Leliana actually managed to get Cassandra to wear these masterfully made, exotic, black high heeled pumps that forced her to walk on her tip toes. Cassandra was actually forced to ride sidesaddle with her legs draped over one side of her horse, and only one foot in the stirrup because of her skirt. She had an uncomfortable scowl on her face the whole way to Halamshiral, but Rajmael was too busy admiring those beautiful legs of hers in those silken stockings every time the wind blew her skirt up a little.

**~XoXoXo~**

They dismounted their steeds and turned their invitations into the valets at the gate. The guards and valets at the gates were shocked and awed to see Rajmael riding in on a halla. Neirin, on the other hand, was not comfortable with humans trying to grab his reigns. If Rajmael hadn't been there, there'd probably be a few skewered shemlen hanging from Neirin's antlers.

Cassandra was still uncomfortable in this confounded dress, and was even more uncomfortable with everyone staring at her.

_"What are you staring at, Varric?"_ Cassandra asked with an undercurrent of hostility.

Varric was eyeing her like she was some kind of curio on a shelf. _"Oh, I'm just making sure that I'll always remember this moment of you wearing a dress. This is definitely going on my list of weirdest things of ever seen. Right under that part where a hole in the sky showed up."_

_"Keep staring at me like that and I'll use these high heels to gouge your eyes out, dwarf."_ Cassandra promised.

_"Aww, just look you, trying to look all tough and dangerous in that lovely gown of yours."_ Dorian cooed sarcastically_. "Like a little puppy trying to act all big and tough, but you just can't take seriously because of how cute it is."_

_"You must relax, Cassandra, dear."_ Vivienne insisted. _"If you keep up that ghastly scowl while wearing that lovely ensemble, you'll alert the assassin from a mile away."_

_"And war is one through various means, Seeker. Sometimes victory calls for us to do things that we don't wish to do, though in this case, I think you've drawn up a lucky hand."_ Solas stated.

_"Lucky me."_ Cassandra said sarcastically.

Rajmael snuck behind Cassandra and wrapped his arms around her waist_. "Cassandra, whether you're in steel or silk, you'll always be beautiful to me."_ He whispered to her as he kissed her neck.

_"Well, there is one thing I would actually like to wear."_ Cassandra said with heavy breat. She reached into her handbag and pulled out the amber amulet that Rajmael gifted to her as a sign of his love, and placed it around her neck. The heart-shaped sylvanwood leaf rested perfectly on her chest.

Rajmael was actually touched. _"Are you sure you wish to wear this so openly, Cassandra?"_

_"You gave it to me. Why should I be ashamed to wear it?"_ Cassandra answered with a smile.

Cassandra noticed an uncomfortable look in Rajmael's eyes. _"Is something wrong, Rajmael?"_

Rajmael sighed with depression. _"I don't know it's just….Many members of my clan dreamed of coming to the Dales, of seeing our ancestral land, this place that was once our kingdom. But now that we're here, and seeing the squalor my people live in here, I can't help but feel guilty that I'm here to save the empress who oppresses my people so that we can gain the aid of an empire who treats elves like shit. I feel like I'm betraying them."_

Cassandra understood what he was saying, and couldn't help but feel guilty as well. After all, it was the Chantry that put the elves on their knees and forced them to live in poverty under the elitist and indifferent boots of Orlais. It's easy to claim how righteous the Exalted March was when it was many centuries ago, when the dead and the pain are not even echoes of memory. But the elves remembered, and they were reminded every day when they woke up, and it was hard to claim that same righteousness when they were the ones still suffering for it.

Solas looked at Rajmael with pity in his eyes. _"One battle at a time, my friend. Our people will still be here when Corypheus is defeated."_

_"Yes."_ Rajmael confirmed sadly. _"And will they still be here, like this, after I'm dead and gone?"_ Rajmael shook the thought from his mind, and tried to remain focused on the task at hand.

**~XoXoXo~**

The others went ahead into the palace and waited for Rajmael. Being the Inquisitor, he had to make a grand entrance with the soldiers he brought. His soldiers all marched to the entrance of the palace in disciplined formation. When they arrived through the main gate, they stopped and gave Rajmael a perfect salute. The sight of the Inquisition entourage caught all the nobles' attention, but their wonder quickly turned into shock at the sight of these soldiers saluting a heathen Dalish elf.

Rajmael could already hear these elitist, racist bootlicks whispering behind his back, like he couldn't hear them.

_"Is that the Inquisitor?"_ A lady asked disbelievingly.

_"An elf savage? Maker forbid!"_ A lord said with shock a disgust.

_"Only Gaspard would be so crass as to invite such vulgar company as a joke."_ Another lady said angrily.

Rajmael looked ahead and saw the Grand Duke approaching him. Josephine described him in great detail, and he memorized the crest of House Valmont on his garish mask, a yellow and two lions rampart above a Chevalier on checkered yellow and green badge shield. The Duke was a man at least in his sixties, balding and with a hard face beneath his mask, Rajmael could also see that trademark human arrogance in his eyes. Gaspard stood tall, and looked incredibly strong for a man his age, no doubt he was a great warrior in youth, but Rajmael noticed the slightest hesitation in his step, and the swing of his arms. He suffered some kind of injury and was trying his damndest to hide it, so he was probably not fit for fighting anymore.

Despite how gaudy his mask was, he wore the ceremonial armor of a Chevalier made of wyvern skin; probably one he killed himself. And he carried an almost outlandish sword with the image of a woman's face on the hilt and a lion's head on the pommel, encrusted with precious gems. But Rajmael didn't doubt the sharpness of that blade. Gaspard was a warrior, the Imperial Commander of the Chevaliers, and he wanted everyone to know it.

_"Welcome, Inquisitor Lavellan! We meet at last."_ Gaspard greeted gregariously. _"I'm a great admirer of your exploits. Brining the Rebel Mages into the ranks of the Inquisition was a brilliant move, one that most people wouldn't have the spine to even attempt. My favorite story is the one where you slew a Pride Demon in single combat in the Temple Sacred Ashes! And I've even heard you've become quite the dragon slayer."_

_"Yes. One Fereldan Frostback, an Abyssal High Dragon, and a Vinsomar."_ Rajmael answerd casually. _"With the aid of my companions."_

_"Most impressive. Imagine what your Inquisition could accomplish with the aid of the rightful Emperor of Orlais at your back!"_

Rajmael could see why the Duke wasn't popular amongst the other nobles, he wasn't a silent wallflower, or a delicate dandy. He was a lion and he knew it; he strode into the room and made himself known, no matter who was offended. A warrior's attitude, and one Rajmael would admire if he didn't know how pigheaded this guy really is.

_"You might be surprised the things I could image, Duke Gaspard."_ Rajmael responded. _"Would the rightful Emperor be capable of matching what my imagination conjures?"_

_"You and I are men of action, Inquisitor. We see what must be done, and we chase after it."_ Gaspard answered. _"And I am not a man who forgets his friends: you assist me, and I'll assist you with all the authority my rightful place grants me." _Gaspard invited Rajmael to walk with him to the palace_. "Are you prepared to shock the world by arriving as the guest of the hated usurper, my lord? They will be telling stories about this night into the next age!"_

_"Oh, trust me, Duke Gaspard, these people won't believe what's happening, even while it unfolds before their very eyes."_ Rajmael promised.

_"I knew we'd get along famously!"_ Gaspard laughed.

If only the Duke knew what was truly going on this night. He probably wouldn't be acting so smug if he knew there was a Venatori assassin serving a would-be god in the palace.

_"As a friend, perhaps there is a matter you could look into."_ Gaspard suggested with his voice uncharacteristically quiet and filled with caution. _"This…elven woman, Briala, I suspect she is here to sabotage the negotiations before they even take place. My people found these 'ambassadors' all over the fortifications. Sabotage seems the least of their crimes."_

_"So the elves were acting dodgy? Is that such an uncommon thing for servants in the Winter Palace?"_ Rajmael asked.

_"That is usually what they want us to think, my lord."_ Gaspard answered. _"I detest the Game, it is an honorless way to gain anything, but if we do not play it well, these saboteurs and sycophants will spell our demise for us. But we are keeping the court waiting. Shall we begin?"_

**~XoXoXo~**

Gaspard led the way into the Winter Palace, and to the Ball Room. Rajmael was almost in awe of the Ball Room. It was a vast hall of gilded, alabaster walls and a marble dance floors set down below were everyone on the upper floor could see the festivities. Rajmael would be impressed if he didn't think such grandeur was wasteful.

At the end of the Ball Room, overlooking the dance floor stood the Grand Duchess Florianne and Empress Celene Valmont I, who stood in a gorgeous gown of satin blue, a lion-faced mantle on her back that held a sapphire blue cape that cascaded down her back, and a mask that represented her and her house. She had a beautiful smile on her face as she greeted each of the guests, but Rajmael knew the smiles of Orlesian nobles was just another mask, another lie to hide their ulterior motives.

The Inquisitor noticed his companions standing near the exit, waiting to be announced on the floor by the chamberlain. This guy must've had some impressive lung power, considering how loud he talked, how long some of these guests' titles were, and how many people he had to announce.

Rajmael noticed the scroll the chamberlain had and noticed how it was going to introduce him, and some of those following him. And he didn't like it. So he decided to subtly tell the chamberlain to say otherwise. _"If you say any of that crap, I'll have you killed."_

The chamberlain went as white as snow, and almost choked on his own tongue.

Rajmael waved his hand over the scroll and the chamberlain watched in amazement as some of the letters rearranged themselves into new introductions. _"This is what you will read."_ Rajmael instructed.

_"O-of couse, y-your worship."_ The man said. He cleared his throat and started doing his job, while trying not to piss himself_. "Now presenting…Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons, Head of the De Chalons family, and Commander of the Order of the Chevaliers of Orlais."_ Gaspard gave a curtsied bow full of false grace, and strode towards his cousin and his sister.

_"Accompanying the Grand Duke, Lord Inquisitor Rajmael Lavellan. First of Clan Lavellan, Savior and Protecter of the Mages of Thedas, Dragonsbane, and Herald of Andraste."_ The entire ball room went silent, and beneath the nobles' masks were faces of shock as Rajmael appeared on the floor and gave a respectful bow. They couldn't believe that there was actually a Dalish heathen walking their precious floors. He didn't show it, but on the inside he was laughing his ass off. Let's see any of these ass-kissing cheese-monkeys try to be a third of the badass he is. But he did smile that triumphant grin of his.

_"Yes, smile, dear."_ Vivienne whispered approvingly. _"Remember, this is all for show."_

_"And accompanying the Inquisitor,"_ the chamberlain continued. _"Lord Dorian Pavus, Member of the Cirlce of Vyrantium, son of Magister Halward Pavus of Asariel."_ Dorian bowed and winked to the Orlesian nobles. Somewhere repulsed by the presence of a Tevinter mage, while others, men and women alike, were intrigued by the exotic foreigner.

_"The Iron Bull, Commander of the famed mercenary company The Bull's Chargers, as the name might imply. Mercenary Captain to the Inquisition."_ Iron Bull walked out on to the floor with heavy steps, and a big grin on his face. No one wanted to say anything to his face.

_"Madame Vivienne, First Enchanter of the Montsimmard Circle of Magi, Enchanter of the Imperial Court, Mistress to the Duke de Ghyslain."_ Vivienne walked out with unflappable poise and grace, and proceeded down the floor with a sultry yet authoritative swagger. The audience was in awe of her elegance, and she knew it.

_"Renowned author and adventurer, Varric Tethras. Head of Noble House Tethras, Deshyr to the Dwarven Merchant's Guild of Kirkwall, and veteran of the Second Qunari Invasion of Kirkwall."_ Varric bowed modestly, many of the attending nobles were excited to see the famous author.

_"Warden Blackwall of Val Chevin, Constable of the Grey. Bearer of the Silverite Wings of Valor, and honored recruiter for the Order of the Grey Wardens."_ Blackwall bowed low and humbly, barely showing his face. Rajmael thought that it was good for someone with such credibility would also show humility.

_"Her Ladyship, Iva Lodt of Khrabs."_ Sera snickered incessantly along with all the servants in the background.

_"Seeker Cassandra Allegra Portia Callogera Filomena…."_

_"Get on with it!"_ Cassandra barked.

_"…Pentaghast, Fourteenth cousin to King Markus Pentaghast, nine times removed. Hero of Orlais, and Right Hand to Divine Justinia V."_ Rajmael didn't realize Cassandra had so many names along with her longwinded titles. No wonder she hated going to these galas. A lot of the men, and even the women, couldn't take their eyes of the Seeker as she walked down the floor in her beautiful gown.

_"Ser Cullen Stanton Rutherford of Honnleath. Commander of the forces of the Inquisition, Former Knight-Commander of Kirkwall, and veteran of the Second Qunari Invasion of Kirkwall."_ Cullen gave a polite bow, stone-faced and stern. Half the ladies and some lords swooned as he walked by. If things go well, Cullen might get lucky in more ways than one.

"_Lady Leliana, Nightingale of the Imperial Court. Left Hand of Divine Justinia V, veteran of the Fifth Blight, seneschal of the Inquisition, and former companion of the Hero of Ferelden."_ Like Vivienne, Leliana walked the floor like she belonged there, but moved with infinite grace and charm. Every man wanted her hand in a dance, and every woman wished they held half the power she wielded.

_"And Lady Josephine Cherette Montilyet of Antiva City. Heir Apparent of House Montilyet, and Ambassador of the Inquisition."_ Josephine gave a perfect curtsy and walked down the way with the grace of a dancer, and a beaming smile. It wouldn't be much of a surprise if half the men in the ball room would ask for her hand later.

Rajmael was somewhat impressed with the chamberlain, he must have had some impressive lung power to say all that. Rajmael stood in front of his company, with the Grand Duke, before the gaze of Empress Celene and Grand Duchess Florianne.

_"Cousin. My dear sister."_ Gaspard adressed with slight hint of contempt.

_"Grand Duke, we are so pleased to have you join us this evening."_ Celene greeted with a voice like smooth silk, and natural grace.

_"Don't waste my time with pleasantries, Celene."_ Gaspard insisted. _"We have business to conclude."_

_"We will meet for the negotiations once we have finished greeting our other guests."_ Celene assured. The Duke gave bowed with faux courtesy and walked away_. "Lord Inquisitor Lavellan, we welcome you to the Winter Palace. Please, allow me to introduce my cousin, Grand Duchess Florianne de Chalons of Lydes, without whom this gathering would not have been possible."_

_"What an unexpected, but most welcome pleasure."_ Florianne greeted. _"I did not think the Inquisition would be a part of our festivities."_

_"Orlesian festivities are just so entertaining and filled with so many interesting people, how could we not want to involve ourselves?"_ Rajmael asked with as much charm as he could muster.

_"Well said."_ Florianne smiled_. "We must speak later, Inquisitor."_ The Duchess walked away to join the rest of her little soiree.

_"Your arrival to our court is like a cool on a summer's day. How do you find Halamshiral, Inquisitor?"_ Celene asked sweetly.

_I would gladly burn you and every shemlen in this godforsaken shit-shack to the ground for desecrating the Dales with your filthy footprints,_ Rajmael thought to himself. _"The beauty and majesty of the Winter Palace is beyond anything I've ever seen. I cannot do it justice."_

_"But your words are very well spoken."_ Celene complimented. _"We look forward to watching you dance."_

Everyone bowed in respect as the Empress turned from them, and they vacated the dance floor to get on with their business.

**~XoXoXo~**

_"Inquisitor, I must speak with you."_ Leliana whispered urgently_. "Immediately."_ Rajmael met with Leliana in a secluded corner in the vestibule where they could see everyone, but no one would hear them talking. "_Did the Duke mention who our saboteur might be?"_

_"He's a Chevalier, Leliana. And he points the finger at whoever he thinks doesn't belong."_ Rajmael answered. _"So, of course he points to Ambassador Briala."_

_"The Ambassador is up to something, no doubt, but I do not believe she is our main concern. Celene knows to be wary of her, and the best place to strike the empress is from her side." _Leliana's face became deathly serious, now Rajmael knew to really pay attention_. "The Empress is fascinated by mysticism; foretelling the future, speaking with the dead, that sort of rubbish. She has an…occult advisor. An apostate who has charmed her way into the empress' good graces, along with half of her court."_

_"I thought Vivienne was the official advisor to the empress about magic?"_ Rajmael said curiously.

_"That position was always seen as nothing more than a glorified jester, Vivienne was the first to turn it into a political position, but when the Circles rebelled all mages became apostates. Celene brought this woman on as her arcane advisor because she was already an apostate, and could tell her things no Maker fearing mage could. And she has become very close to the empress."_

_"An apostate mage who charmed her way into the Empress' grace without the Chantry's approval or political BS? Wow! Vivienne must hate her guts! I like her already!"_ Rajmael laughed.

_"This is no laughing matter!"_ Leliana scorned. _"I've…dealt with her in the past. She is ruthless, capable of anything and has absolutely no compunctions about delving into things no one else should."_

_"You seem to know a great deal about this Arcane Advisor, Leliana."_

_"We have a history, both from before and during our time at court."_ Leliana answered. _"She is worth investigating. That is all I'm saying, I cannot be certain. I will directing our spies if you need anything."_

This was going to be a pain in the ass, but it was one Rajmael had to endure: playing the Grand Game. It was every Orlesian lords excuse to do terrible things to another person, and it was the only way to gain anything in the treacherous halls of Orlesian power. These activities only proved one fact that Rajmael had always known: Orlesians are treacherous, and not to be trusted. But he would play their little game, and he would best them at it.

**~XoXoXo~**

Cassandra stood in complete discomfort, waiting for the chance for Rajmael to call her and the others to action. High heels were the greatest punishment that any woman could suffer! How can Josephine, Leliana and Vivienne stand it? And worse than that, she was standing in this ridiculous dress in public! Cassandra could feel everyone staring at her; she like she was some kind of freak show.

_"Excuse me, milady?"_ a young handsome Chevalier with bright blonde hair adressed politlely.

_"Yes?"_ Cassandra asked disinterestedly. She could tell the man was a Chevalier from the feather in his hat, and he had a couple of medals pinned to his chest. And like all Chevaliers, he strutted around like a rooster in mating season.

_"My name Jean-Renard de Parteu. I've fought since the beginning of the war, and one several decisive battles, I was even with the Duke when he first declared his intent to take his rightful throne."_ The man lauded.

_"Is that supposed to impress me?"_ Cassandra rolled her eyes.

_"I just arrived at the palace when I noticed you standing there, and I knew immediately that I had to introduce myself to you, I had to know who you are. Please, will you do me the honor of telling me you name?"_

_"Ugh!"_ Cassandra groaned. _"Cassandra Pentaghast, if you must know."_

Cassandra was almost amused by how quickly the enthusiasm left the Ser Whats-His-Names' face. He quickly gave a respectful bow. _"Oh! Er, i-it's a pleasure t-to meet you, S-seeker! An honor, r-really. Would you…please excuse me?"_

_"You're the only one talking."_ Cassandra was amused by how quickly the vain knight got away from her. It would seem her reputation in Orlais was still withstanding, and it made for the perfect suitor repllent.

_"Here for barely an hour, and already you're making quite the impact, Cassandra."_ Leliana laughed_. "It is good to see you dressed for the occasion for once."_

_"Ugh. This just like my fourteenth birthday all over again."_ Cassandra remembered dismally. _"My Uncle would dress me up like a porcelain doll, and whole line of suitors would ride in on their steeds, and tell me how my beauty shames the sun. Bah! I'd rather wear a shirt made of shattered glass and molten led boots than go through that again."_

_"Ha! Then what did it take for you to wear such an ensemble here where there would be lords a plenty who would bore you for hours about your beauty, your status and everything else about you?"_

Cassandra blushed slightly. She couldn't keep things from one of her oldest surviving friend. _"An elf who rode in on a white halla, and said that I hit like a girl."_ If this was any other event, Cassandra would gladly accept a dance with Rajmael while wearing a dress. But she'd never actually tell him that.

**~XoXoXo~**

Dorian stood by himself in the inner courtyard tossing a few caprice coins into the fountain, while listening to pleasant music. The ham was delectable, even though it tasted of despair. Events like these almost reminded him of home. Almost. In Tevinter the environment is much darker, and magic was on constant display to show off their prowess, and his mother was usually nagging in his ear. Also, most of these nobles believed that their titles offered them some sort of protection and were too important to be killed by their neighbor, however, in Tevinter everyone was capable of killing everyone, and not just because they were mages, even the slaves serving drinks were trained killers; either the were mages themselves or seasoned soldiers and assassins. Sigh. Thoughts like these were making him homesick, Dorian decided to go try the cheese, he heard it tasted of regret.

**~XoXoXo~**

Ironbull was enjoying being the center of attention. They were all asking about the Boss, and making innuedo about how big his muscles must be. Obviously he enjoyed the flattery, but Bull could tell that some of these guys were actually spies. The one guy dressed in really tight pantaloons with a heron-feathered mask was a chevalier, most likely he had knives hidden in his sleeves. Bull could tell from the way he stood and the way he motioned his arms. So were the elven girls passing him drinks and snacks, they were constantly eyeing everyone, and the humans were too snooty to notice. No mages though, if the Venatori are here, they'll definitely be bringing serabass. He was hoping the Boss would sniff them out soon; some of these ladies and lords were giving him the hungry eye, and was tempted to take them all around the corner and oblige them.

**~XoXoXo~**

Sera thought it was too easy. Most of these self-important tits were too busy watching Cassie's nice, firm ass, and trying to get autographs, and learn about the champion from the hairless dwarf to notice that she was swiping their purses and whatever jewels and valuables that they were flaunting on their clothes. Oh, what would she do with all this gold and jewel trinkets? She'll keep the gold obviously, but maybe she'll throw all the jewels and pearls to the poor sad saps in the gutter back in the city. That'll rub shit in the noble arses' noses.

**~XoXoXo~**

Cole could see all of these people, but none could see him, and he was very confused. All of these people said something to one another, but meant something else. Some of them would say nice words to each other, but are actually hateful, and some actually meant to hurt the people they were talking nice to. He spoke to Varric about it, but he told him to not do anything and enjoy the dancing. Cole didn't understand the dancing, but he liked the pretty hats. On the table there was a plate with many pretty little cakes on it, he didn't understand how people could eat something so pretty. Cole tried one and it tasted like happiness.

A servant walked by to deliver some more cake at the refreshment table and just as she dropped it off it disappeared! She thought she saw someone make off with it but couldn't remember clearly, so she decided to get more, quickly.

**~XoXoXo~**

Now this is where Vivienne belonged. In the halls of power where the most important people of Thedas decide the outcomes of the world. And tonight, one of the most important outcomes in history will be determined, and she would have a part to play in it. The Inquisitor has done well so far, he actually surprised with how well he handles the nobility. Vivienne would wait to see how long this sudden state of wisdom and practicality would last. If there was one thing she learned, it was not to trust the Inquisitor's powers of pragmatism.

The Council of Heralds was here to decide who had the stronger claim for the throne, but it was only the six of them. The seventh one, her dear Bastien, was…indisposed. His absence would complicate the matter, and the outcome would most likely be decided by whichever of the contenders came the most prepared. If the Inquisition was to better fulfill its mission, it would behoove them to determine who should rule the empire, but only to the best benefit of the Inquisition. After all, the Inquisitor's successes were hers as well.

**~XoXoXo~**

And here he was once more. Watching from the sidelines as the powerful and entitled strutted around like peacocks showing off their feathers while pretending to be raptors. He had seen many such displays in the Fade, the powerful remain the same, and only the costumes change. Most nobles went through their lives never noticing the servants who serve their drinks, or realizing that it was the servants, not the other lords that they should be wary of. Far too often the nobility were too arrogant or too ignorant to notice how easily it was for the servants they deliberately ignore could poison their drinks or steal their secrets. And even if they did realize this fact, most were too proud to act on it, that would force them to admit that their lowly servants were a threat, and therefore worth noticing.

Rajmael had made it to the halls of power by the strength of his own will, something that most nobles knew nothing of. And they had no idea what to make either him or the Inquisitor, neither of them were people that the nobles wanted to acknowledge, but neither were they people who could be ignored. An unwelcome conundrum. The servants, on the other hand, were happy to refill Solas' glass, and they even called him hahren, and the Inquisitor was already hunting down clues and suspects with the inquisitive mind of a follower of Dirthamen. This would shape up to be an eventful evening.

**~XoXoXo~**

Blackwall stared at the other side of the dance floor, utterly enamored. Josephine was a lovely as an early spring, a fact made more obvious by the gorgeous dress she wore. Andraste's Knickers that woman is beautiful. He watched her talk with her younger sister, another pretty thing, but she had some time to go to catch up with her sister, both in wisdom and in beauty.

_"Instead of standing there looking like a creepy, bearded statue, why don't you just go over there and ask her to dance?"_ Rajmael suggested earnestly.

_"Oh, I'm tempted. Really tempted, but it wouldn't be appropriate."_ Blackwall stated. _"There's just too much standing between us."_

_"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm well aware how much you shems like to put so much importance on petty social differences."_ Rajmael waved off. _"But I think an acceptation can be made tonight. To the eyes of the nobility, she is yet another lovely face in a sea of masks and intrigue. And you, Warden Blackwall, are a highly ranked, decorated slayer of darkspawn in a time where Grey Warddens are celebrated as heroes. I think you two at least deserve to have one dance with each other, on a night where you two can be considered equals."_

Blackwall hadn't thought of that. For her to be seen dancing with a Grey Warden who wanders the wilderness for a living, what might that do to her carefully made reputation? _"I don't know….perhaps?"_

Rajmael handed the indecisive Warden a shot of some Coastland Whiskey he found on one of the serving tables. _"Here's a little liquid courage."_

Before his better judgement could make a coward of him, Blackwall downed the glass in one shot, and decided to take Rajmael's advice. He made his way over to Ambassador Montilyet who was still talking to her sister. Rajmael also made his way over there when he saw Cassandra approaching Josephine.

_"Milady, Josephine."_ Blackwall greeted courteously.

_"Oh, Warden Blackwall. My Lord Inquisitor."_ Josephine curtsied. _"This is my sister, Yvett Gabriella Montilyet."_

_"A pleasure to meet you, ma'am."_ The two men greeted.

_"Oh, Inquisitor! I have so many questions!"_ The younger Montilyet almost squeeled. _"Is it true that you and Seeker Cassandra are going to elope, and move to Nevarra, and make a claim for the throne, and slay dragons together?"_

_"Yvette!"_ Josephine scolded.

_"I want to know!"_ Yvette whined.

Rajmael smiled slyly as he wrapped his arm around Cassandra's waist. _"I've already reserved our honeymoon suite in Cumberland. Isn't that right, ma vhenan?"_ Rajmael planted a few kisses on Cassandra's lovely neck.

_ "No! That is not true!"_ Cassandra denied while she blushed several shades of crimson.

_"Oh! But that would be so romantic if it was."_ Yvett looked to Blackwall and giggled like a school girl. _"Josephine, is this the Warden you wrote to me about?"_

_"Shh!"_ Josephine hissed, making her sister giggle even more.

It was now or never. Blackwall swallowed hard and forgot all about his social rank_. "Might I have this next dance, Lady Josephine?"_ he asked nervously before the music resumed.

Josephine's eyes lit up like candles, her smile filled with genuine joy. _"I…was hoping you'd ask, Warden Blackwall."_

Blackwall offered his arm, and Josephine gladly took it as he led her down to the dance floor. Rajmael had now idea Blackwall knew the Montsimmard Waltz.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael decided to take Leliana's advice and had spent the better half of an hour listening and gathering information, mostly from the elven servants, as well as charming up a few of these noble snobs. It was amazing how easily they could be moved by false smiles and fake words depending on how pretty they were.

The elven servant were hiding something. Something about hiding something in the garden balcony. Something Briala didn't want discovered. And whatever Ambassador Briala was hiding was definitely something he needed to know.

He made his way into the gardens and easily snuck his way past the chatting nobles as he snuck up the lattice to the upper balcony. The closet the elves spoke of was locked by some kind of enchantment; someone really didn't want anyone else to open it, but he easily disabled the magic charm. Rajmael was surprised to find the bodies of two imperial messengers inside, along with the letter her was supposed to carry.

Strange. This was a letter from Gaspard to Celene beseeching her for an alliance against Briala. The Duke actually considered her to be the biggest threat. Why? The letter spoke of a weapon in Briala's possession, an elven artifact that made her, and the elves serving her, a threat to both contenders for the throne. What artifact could she possess that would make Orlais' highest ranking general sweat enough to make him want an alliance with the empress he wanted to depose? This must be why Celene wanted Briala apart of these talks: the Ambassador was too dangerous to ignore.

Briala must have learned of the Duke's intentions and killed the messenger, and stole the proposal of alliance. If Briala was half as smart as he thought she was, she would have sent false letters to both the Empress and the Duke to heat up the fighting, and keep attention off of her. Rajmael was definitely going to need to find out Briala's intentions. Still, he couldn't help but like her for sticking it to the shemlen bastards who take delight in harming elves.

Rajmael made his way over to the Arcane Advisor's office and was pleased at how fortunate it was to find it empty. Her office was hidden behind a secret door behind the book shelves, but Rajmael could sense the magic behind it, and found the hidden lever that revealed the room behind it. The office had strange artifacts of all cultures. Elven, Tevinter and even Chasind artifacts littered the room, many of them were things that the Chantry forbade. On her desk Rajmael found a letter from the hand of the empress herself. The empress stated that she wanted her Arcane Advisor at her side during the peace talks. Apparently she didn't trust her cousin enough to not bring magic into the negotiations, and it wouldn't be the first time he brought a mage to undermine her, so Celene wanted her personal mage there to protect her should that happen.

Given how much importance the Empress was placing on an apostate, whose position in court was precarious at best, and whose only protection came from the empress, it was not likely that this "Lady M" was the assassin they were looking for. If the Empress was killed by magic, fingers would first be pointed to her.

But something else was going on. A few of the servants actually approached him and warned him not to go into the servant's quarters. Said that no elf that went there came back out alive. That definitely sounded like the place to check out. But first, it was time to go, before Rajmael was missed and the nobles started wondering where the Inquisitor was.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael made his way back to the Grand Ball Room's entrance in the Foyer. And then he felt something, like a cold chill mixed with static electricity crawl up his spine. A very powerful mage, with a very unique control over magic was nearby. A mage with access to very ancient, and even primordial magic.

_"Well, welll. What have we here?"_ Asked a voice a sultry voice that had winter's cold embrace. _"The leader of the New Inquisition, fabled Herald of the faith. Delivered from the dark grasp of the faith by the hand of Blessed Andraste herself."_

Watched as a raven haired woman with an almost ethereal beauty to her approach with each word. Her skin was like fresh snow, and had brilliant golden eyes, almost like his own. She wore a dark red velvet dress that was cut low in the front and generously showed off her feminine features, and other dark dressings that gave her a beautiful, mysterious but also dangerous appearance. She also wore a golden necklace with a turquoise gem of foreign design. Judging from her accent and her features, she was most certainly not Orlesian. Chasind perhaps?

_"What could bring such an exalted creature to the Imperial Court? Do you even know, I wonder?"_ The lady asked.

_"I suspect that I know myself, and my reasons for being here more than an unintroduced stranger probably could."_ Rajmael replied. _"Courtly intrigues tend to obscure much."_

_"Indeed, but they don't hide everything."_ The golden-eyed lady smiled. _"I am Morrigan. Some call me advisor to the Empress on matters of the Arcane. You…have been very busy this evening, hunting in the dark corners of the palace. Perhaps you and I hunt the same prey?"_

_"Well, that would depend upon the nature of our hunt, wouldn't it?"_ Rajmael evaded.

_"You are being coy."_ Lady Morrigan chuckled.

_"I'm being cautious. I don't make it a point to show my hand to strangers."_

_"Not an unwise decision, given the state of things."_ Morrigan replied. _"Allow me to speak first, then. Recently, I found and killed a most unwelcome guest within these halls, an agent of Tevinter. Allow me to offer this as a sign of good faith. A key: where it leads and what it unlocks, I cannot say, but the assassin had it on him, and was most upset when I relieved him of it. I would search myself, but cannot leave Celen's side for fear of her assassination. Perhaps you can find where it leads."_

This was the key to the servant's quarters, where those elves told him to stay away. It would be the perfect place for someone to sneak in troops or agents. "_What does a Chasind Apostate gain from protecting the Empress?"_

_"Well, my life for starters."_ Morrigan laughed_. "If anything were to happen to her, her occult advisor would be the perfect scapegoat, even if others knew otherwise. There are sharks in the water, Inquisitor, and I will not fall prey to them, not now, not ever. I hope you proceed with caution. Your enemy is allied with Tevinter, and their identity remains hidden amongst Celen's allies and enemies. What happens next, promises this to be a most eventful evening."_

Morrigan smiled and walked off as though she were off to watch a play. Leliana was right, this woman was worth caution, but she wasn't the enemy they were seeking. This wouldn't be the last he saw of her, he was certain of that.

**~XoXoXo~**

_"You stupid little elf-bitch!"_ A fat, obnoxious masked lord barked at his servant. The young lady had accidently spilled some red wine on his surcoat. _"Look what you've done!"_

Rajmael had never seen a shemlen so fat before. His stomach was as big a boulder, and his overly expensive mask barely fit over his chubby, fleshy face. The man's expensive threads threatened to tear under the strain that his grossly obese body placed on them. To be so well fed while others starved in the midst of a war was shameful to Rajmael.

_"I…I'm sorry, messere."_ The young elven lady whispered_. "You told me to run and…."_

The fat lord smacked the young lady across the face in front of a whole room of people, the elves tried not to care, the nobles that looked actually didn't care, while the others acted as if nothing was going on.

_"No excuses!"_ The fat lord yelled, his jowls and extra chins shaking. _"Get out of my sight, before I have you caned!"_

The kept to the walls, so as to not get in the other nobles' way, and scurried away weeping.

_"Ugh! Elves."_ A noble lady groaned in disgust_. "So clumsy and lazy. They should be grateful for what kindness we give them."_

A sense of outrage washed over Rajmael, and that thing inside him began to stir once more as he watched the whole spectacle. He hadn't been a city elf since his parents were killed, but he remembered well how indifferent and cruel humans could be, and he couldn't imagine what his life would be like if he had never been adopted by Nethras' family amongst the Dalish. Halamshiral was originally the new homeland of the Elves, and even today the elves of the Dales vastly outnumbered the human interlopers. How can the elves of this land just let humans treat them like such shit?

Rajmael tried to keep his mind on the task at hand, but he couldn't help but glare poisoned daggers at the fat lord, and that fat lord couldn't help but notice.

How dare this lowly elf look at him thusly? _"You bastard little knife-ear! What are you starring at?!"_ The lord demanded.

_"Not much."_ Rajmael answered indignantly. _"Just another fat human, who probably couldn't find his own dick with four hands and a map."_ The nobles gasped in shock, and the elves all snickered in the background.

The lord turned purple while his jowls shook with rage. _"You miserable knife-eared, bastard-born, son of a slut! Who do you think you are?!"_

And now he brought Rajmael's mother into it? Now it was personal. His eyes flared power as his magic began to shimmer around him, and his hand rested on his sword. _"Rajmael Lavellan, Lord Inquisitor to the New Inquisition."_

The once purple lord now turned pale_. "A Dalish savage…? I mean-! Please, pardon me. My lord! Your worship! I…beg your forgiveness!"_ The lord's jowls were now quivering with fear.

Rajmael approached the fat lord, his eyes still glowing with power. _"Usually when people beg me for anything, they're on their knees."_

_"W-what?"_ The lord asked wide-eyed with disbelief.

_"Get. On. Your. Knees."_ Rajmael ordered dangerously. _"And beg my forgiveness."_

The fat lord looked around at his fellow peers as if they could offer him aid. The other nobles averted their eyes, as though they were ashamed of him. Even the man's chevaliers backed away into the shadows. With no one coming to his aid, the nobleman slowly lowered to his knees, the size of his obese body made it difficult for him to lower himself, and the weight of his lethargy hurt his knees something awful.

Rajmael dropped a handkerchief in front of the kneeling fat man. _"While you're down there, shem, shine my boots."_

The chunky noble apprehensively took the cloth, his knees and his weight killing him, and set to work shinning the Inquisitor's boots. Some of the nobles felt outraged at the sight of an Orlesian lord being forced to clean the feet of an Elven savage, while the elven servants hiding in the background felt a sense of vindication seeing one of those high and mighty shems being brought low by a fellow elf.

_"Now look at me."_ Rajmael ordered vehemently.

The fat lord looked up to the Inquisitor, but his eyes didn't meet the elf's. His attention was too focused on the Inquisitor's sword pointed at him.

That thing inside Rajmael demanded that he kill this fat fuck, make everyone in this room pity his fate. Rajmael ignored it. He had another idea. _"Now you can beg my forgiveness."_

_"Please, Inquisitor, I beg Andraste's forgiveness!"_ The man wailed as he felt the heat from the Inquisitor's white hot blade burn his face. _"I beg your forgiveness! I'll increase my servants' pay, I'll donate to the Inquisition! I'll do whatever you want!"_

The obese lord's fleshy face was streamed with tears and his whole body shook beaneath his tight-fiting, garish clothing. This was so pathetic, it was almost funny.

_"Take of your mask."_ Rajmael ordered.

The other nobles gasped in shock and horror as the fat lord unwillingly removed his expensive, barely fitting mask and dropped it to the floor. Rajmael could now see his piggy little eyes, beak like nose and fleshy face, the man reminded actually reminded him of a stuck pig. There was no worse shame for an Orlesian lord than to be removed of his mask, but to have it removed on the order of an elf, was almost too shameful to bear. And then, the Inquisitor crushed the bejeweled mask beneath his shinned boot.

_"If I ever hear you mistreat another elf, or even utter the word knife-ear again, I'll know. And next time, I'll burn the fat from your body and make you eat your own entrails."_ Rajmael turned away and left the pig-like noble kneeling in shame before his own peers, sobbing like a little girl, barefaced and shamed in a manner that crushed his soul.

That thing inside Rajmael continued to scream at him, it wanted him to go back and murder that lord. Show these humans what elven wrath looks like, make them regret ever befouling this sacred land with their filth ridden footsteps. But Rajmael ignored it. He was here for another reason entirely. Still, it gnawed at him like a hungry wolf. There was no doubt in his mind that if every shemlen soul in this stolen kingdom of his people's was to die, he would not shed a tear, only smile at the poetic justice of it all.

But first, he must perform his bitter duty, and save this Empress who would continue to treat his people as secondary citizens fit only to serve and oppress. Rajmael knew in his heart that no matter who won tonight, his people would still lose, and be seen only as fodder to the humans of this putrid empire.


	15. Playing the Game: Part II

**Playing the Game: Part II**

Celene took a moment to observe this curiosity, the Dalish elf who now commanded the hearts of the faithful all over Thedas. He was truly Dalish with those intricate tattoos on his face, meant to honor his heathen gods, and he had the most peculiar hair style, the sides of his head were shaved and the rest of it was pulled into a tight pony tail. After her first encounter with the Dalish elves of Clan Virnehn she learned to be very cautious concerning those kind of elves. But this one was different.

Somehow he, a heathen elf with a blasphemous name, got three ardently loyal members of the Chantry, two of whom loyally served the Divine herself as her Hands, to serve him with the same loyalty. Such a thing was admirable, and extremely dangerous. She initially didn't want him here because he could tip the delicate balance of power by turning the tens of thousands of faithful against her or Gaspard if he chooses. But this could be a blessing in disguise. She had already sent Couteau, Columbe and Fleur to speak with the Inquisitor and assure him of her intentions. That should placate him for the evening and, if nothing else, she could learn more about him. His policies, his ethics, what Inquisitor Rajmael seeks. The first step to winning The Game was knowing your opponent, so that you can know how to outmaneuver them.

"_Did you meet with the Inquisitor as I instructed, ladies?"_ Celene asked her handmaidens.

"_Oui, your grace."_ Couteau answered sincerely.

"_And we assured him of your intentions."_ Columbe followed with eagerness.

"_He didn't seem impressed."_ Fluer finished in her usual morose tone.

"_How do you mean?"_ Celene asked curiously.

"_It seemed he didn't believe you are capable of fulfilling your promise." _Fluer answered in her monotone voice. _"Or perhaps, he simply does not care for your promises."_

That shouldn't have been a surprise, after all, the last time Celene tried dealing with the Dalish they threw her offers of a lordship back in her face. They stubbornly clung to their ways, despite what they might have gained from allying with her. Although, she supposed anything she offered, Gaspard probably offered the same thing, and that seemed more likely.

"_What do we know of the Lord Inquisitor?" _Celene asked from behind her lace fan.

"_His clan originally roamed the Free Marches, and he has helped secure them a permanent place in Wycome."_ Couteau answered first.

"_It seems he favors giving the mages sanctuary and disavows any loyalty to Blessed Andraste."_ Columbe added almost sadly.

"_And apparently, he has gained the respect of Ferelden and King Alistair for his assistance in stabilizing the Hinterlands, and saving the King and Queen from assassination by Tevinter radicals."_ Fleur finished.

Celene took a moment to contemplate his feats. _"If he has won over the Fereldan monarchy, he can only be a boon to us if we can sway him our way, or a bane if we cannot."_

"_Forgive me, Your Grace…."_ Columbe addressed. "_But do we truly need the Inquisitor's assistance to win the Empire?" _

"_Have you not been keeping your ear out for the past year, Columbe?"_ Celene gently chided. _"This Inquisition is quickly rising to become a power that can rival nations. Not only are they led by a man, whom many believe is Andraste's chosen on earth and wields great power, they are making great impacts on the world as a whole."_

For a moment her maidens stared at her wide-eyed like a small group of children and waited for her to continue. _"In Nevarra they routed out a conspiracy with mages using Blood magic to influence King Markus. Even my cousin, Duke Cyril de Montfort, boasts about how they have made the Council of Heralds jobs easier by settling the succession dispute in Lydes, and if my agents are right, both Tevinter and Nevarra are now vying for the Inquisition's support, both of whom are our Empire's chiefest rivals."_

All three of her hand maidens gasped and had bewildered looks on their face and Celene decided now would a good time to tease them a little_. "Also, rumors abound that the Champion of Kirkwall was seen at Skyhold."_

That bit of gossip made them blush under the masks, and they started fanning themselves hard. While they had their little fantasies, Celene turned her mind back to the task at hand.

There wasn't a doubt in Celene's mind that Inquisitor Rajmael was a formidible man, and he was counseled by some of the best minds in all of Thedas. Gaspard may have actually played the better hand, but Celene knew in her mind that Briala would seek him out and ask for aid. She'll probably use the fact that they're both elves to convince him of the worthiness of her cause. But judging from what her spies have told her, The Inquisition was more concerned about this Tevinter Cult than the cause of the elves, and that could be her saving grace against her former lover.

But for now, she had more immediate concerns. Everything was in place for her to deal with Gaspard, who was the most immediate threat to her empire. She would deal with Briala, and if needs be, the Inquisitor later. She had already sacrificed too much to let her beloved empire be taken from her now.

**~XoXoXo~**

Gaspard stood by himself on one of the ball room balconies, drinking a most excellent bit of Heartland Port, Vintage 8:89 Blessed. He knew he made the right decision seeking out the Inquisitor. Men like him and the Inquisitor are men of action, with a mission, a goal to achieve. Men like them seek what their after and take their destiny by the throat, not let others dictate what they should do for appearances sake, or let petty ceremony stand in their way. And neither of them were men who would be manipulated. If Celene were to have her way, she would tap dance around the issue and try to reason with the Breach instead of marching on it.

"_What do we know of the Lord Inquisitor?"_ Gaspard asked several of his lieutenants.

"_If rumors are to be believed, my lord, it is said that he is both a mage and a warrior."_ One of his lieutenants answered disbelievingly. _"He uses some strange form of elven martial art and magic to decimate entire companies of knights and templars. And that he wields an ironwood sword blazing with white fire."_

"_A mage who can actually put up a fight?"_ Gaspard chuckled. _"Now that is something worth bragging about!"_

"_I beg your pardon, your grace."_ Said one of him men. _"But the empire already has Knight-Enchanters, all of whom are from powerful and influential families. Would it not suit us better to try and bring Madame de Fer to our cause?"_

"_Yes, that it would, Captain Cheville."_ Gaspard confirmed. _"But can any of them banish a whole horde of demons with just a wave of his hand? No. We need this Lord Lavellan, or no one at all. Also, I doubt my former father-in-law's mistress would be so willing to aid me."_

"_Well, my lord, it is rumored that he, in fact, does not support the Chantry, or even pray to the Maker, but to his heathen gods."_ One of his officers stated condemningly.

"_Let the priests and philosophers contemplate gods and the hereafter, and let us focus on the here and now."_ Gaspard waved off. _"As for the Chantry…well, who could blame anyone for not supporting those cantankerous old biddies? They would rather pray away a problem than face it. What do we know of his militaristic accomplishments?"_

"_Under his command, the Inquisition has quickly gained a foothold in various outposts across Ferelden and the Empire."_ One of Gaspard's captains answered. _"I heard that in Redcliffe, he single handedly cleared out a cult of Tevinter mages that had taken over the castle, and he did the same thing with the Griffon's Wing Outpost in the Western Approach after clearing out ancient Tevinter ruins filled with demons, darkspawn and giants."_

"_Ha-ha! You see, gentlemen? Celene's tentative nature has undone herself."_ Gaspard laughed. _"Whereas she saw an unknown factor to be avoided, I saw an opportunity in the Inquisitor, and, as we all know, fortune favors the bold." _

Gaspard had never given the Dalish elves much thought, but this Inquisitor was definitely a man not to be taken lightly, a fact that Celene was all too happy to overlook. With the Inquisitor on his side, and a few well-made preparations, there was no doubt in Gaspard's mind that he would have the throne after tonight.

**~XoXoXo~**

The peace talks were going to begin within a matter of hours. Briala had made ready all her plans for tonight. Starting with the forged letters she sent to both Celene and Gaspard. That should keep the two of them from ganging up on her, and give her time to keep organizing her people. Briala knew both of Celene's and Gaspard's plans, which gave her the most advantage. The only possible wrinkle in her plan was this Inquisitor Lavellan.

It infuriated her that an elf could accept being the guest of a Chevalier, especially a thug like Gaspard. But then, given her experience with Dalish elves, the so-called "true elves", cared only for their own goals, their own agenda. No doubt Gaspard bought him off with the promise of aid should the Inquisitor help him succeed in his bid for the throne, and given how well the Inquisitor has been charming the nobles, Gaspard just might succeed. Briala had to make sure everything was ready in case either side did, or did not get what they wanted.

"_What do we know of the Inquisitor?"_ Briala asked several of her people who had been watching everyone of importance.

"_Well, he is Dalish. That much is obvious."_ The stable hand answered with a smile. _"He even rides a white halla, I saw it in the stables. It let me feed him some carrots."_

"_I want to know his character, not his mount, Tom." _Briala scolded.

"_One of my cousins works in the Skyhold Garden."_ One of the valets piped in. _"She tells me that he has a shrine dedicated to the elven gods, and, if you can believe this, he is a priest to them!"_

"_That is no surprise, the Dalish elves have always maintained the old faith."_ Briala reminded. _"Some might say they care more about what happened in the past than they do about the present. And if a Dalish elf so eagerly serves a cause devoted to the Chantry, he is not one to be trusted."_

"_He…cannot be all bad."_ Sabine, one of the serving girls said shyly. She had been weeping earlier, and her face was too tear stained for her to be seen on the serving floor. _"When…my master slapped me, the Inquisitor stood up for me, and forced him to remove his mask and shine his boots. I think my master may commit suicide for such shame."_

That was unexpected. Briala knew that this Inquisitor Rajmael had easily gained many of the nobles' adoration. Was he so quick to cast it aside for a mere servant? Perhaps there was more to him than she thought.

"_And then there's the matter of Seeker Pentaghast."_ Said the old cook.

"_What about her?"_ Briala asked curiously.

"_That pendant she wears around her neck, it is an elven amulet."_ The cook answered_. "My grandmother told me that sometimes the Dalish will fashion an amulet from the amber and leaves of a sylvanwood and present it as a sign of unrequited love. I never thought to see such a trinket, much less around the neck of a shemlen Seeker."_

More and more this Inquisitor Rajmael became more of a curiosity to Briala. He was a Dalish elf who prayed to the elven gods, yet served an organization devoted to Andraste. And Cassandra Pentaghast, a member of a powerful family, and the devoted Right Hand of the Divine proudly wore a Dalish love trinket in front of all the nobility. Maybe this Inquisitor wasn't as easy to figure out like she thought. She would need to learn more about him if she was to prevail over either Gaspard or Celene.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael had given word to several of his companions to be ready to go to the servant's quarters; they needed to figure out what was going on there. But first Rajmael needed to relax for a moment. That thing inside Rajmael was still yelling at him, and it wasn't shutting up, and he couldn't concentrate with it screaming in his ear. He needed to relax, so he headed to the balcony to have a smoke. That should calm his nerves. He tried to empty his pipe of the ash that had built up in it, but he still couldn't get that thing to shut up, and in fit of anger, he slammed his fist against a marble pillar, leaving an almost perfect imprint of his fist behind.

"_Not enjoying the party Inquisitor?"_ asked an unfamiliar voice.

Rajmael turned to see an elven woman wearing an almost noble looking mask of some authority. This had to be Ambassador Briala. Rajmael regained his composure. _"Watching elves living like servants when they should be the masters of this land, and letting the shems treat them so horribly makes me sick. I don't understand why any would choose to live like this." _He answered honestly, and with venom.

"_Easy for you to judge, living on your own terms in the woods, never worrying about the Chevaliers barging into your home, or what the humans may do to you at night."_ Briala scoffed indignantly. _"I didn't think the Dalish cared enough about what us poor flat-ears go through."_

Rajmael gave the ambassador a dangerous look, he would not let anyone, even another elf, insult his people to his face. _"That coming from a primped and sweet smelling pet, who slutted it up with the very empress who oppresses our people, means less to me than what my halla shits out. Tell me, Ambassador Briala, how many of your fellow elves did you have to step on to get be Celene's pet? Or did you simply spread your legs from Day One?"_

The Inquisitor gave Briala a mocking grin, she knew he was trying to get a rise out of her, and tried not to act on it. _"Are you really the sort to listen to idle gossip and wild tales, Inquisitor?"_

"_Are you really the type to whore yourself out in exchange for getting the empress to try and make concessions for the elves of this godsforsaken empire?"_ Rajmael balked back with that smile still on his face. _"Why don't you try clarifying this for me? I don't want to think that I'm just relying on court gossip."_

Briala had to maintain control. Whether she liked this man or not was inconsequential; he may be the key to turning the tide in this war. _"I can be honest: yes I served as Celene's handmaiden and spymaster, and yes, I tried to get her to make the lives of the elves even a little bit better."_

"_But only as far as it served her more, and kept the elves beneath humans."_ Rajmael interjected.

"_Yes."_ Briala answered bitterly. _"But the elves of Halamshiral wanted more, and they began an uprising. She sent me to calm them down, and when I returned, she had me arrested on a trumped up charge so that she could deflect the rumors that she was an elven sympathizer. It was nothing personal, just The Game." _Briala scowled bitterly underneath her mask as she remembered that moment of betrayal. _"That is the excuse all humans in the Orlesian Court use, and it just wouldn't do for the Empress of Orlais to show any favor towards the elves."_

"_Ah. So it wasn't until after Celene fucked up your life that you decided to actually stand with your people."_ Rajmael stated blithely. _"In the meantime, everyone else's lives got fucked up while you were living in the palace and sleeping on silken sheets."_

"_Nobody has cause to hate Celene more than I, but I have no stake in harming her." _Briala stated_. "An elf assassinating the Empress? Alienages across all of Thedas would be burned. But I doubt you could possibly understand how difficult life for us is amongst the humans."_

"_You lack loyalty and you lack honor, and now you dare think to judge me, and how I stand amongst our people? Fuck you."_ Rajmael said with blithe disgust_. "Unlike you, Ambassador Briala, I've always known where I stand with my people, both in the woods, and in the city, and everything I am, I made myself to be: I didn't have to suck up to anyone to determine my place in the world. Oh, and just in case you've forgotten this little fact…" _Rajmael pulled the glove off his right hand and pulled up his sleeve, revealing the horrid burn scar beneath it. _"The only other people who like to harm City Elves as much as humans, are other City Elves. Your kind taught me that the hard way. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to. So fuck you, and have a nice night."_

Briala stood stiff as a plank, and somewhat stunned. Half of what he said, about her being Celene's pet, she had already said to herself, yet hearing him say it somehow made her feel even guiltier. Perhaps it took hearing it from the mouth of another elf, one who fought to control his destiny, to make her feel the full weight of the guilt she carried. And though she may have denied it to anyone else, she knew Rajmael was right when he said that City Elves are just as ready to harm one another as the humans are. Her own mother framed another elf for stealing jewels so Briala could be made Celene's handmaiden. Was that how the Inquisitor received that scar?

Despite what happened the last time she encountered the Dalish, she still admired, and even envied that sense of independence they had, the freedom that only they knew. And after what he did to that fat noble for Sabina, maybe she was wrong about him. Perhaps Rajmael Lavellan was more than what she thought. Perhaps he was a worthwhile ally after all.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael and his companions snuck their way to the Servant's Quarters as soon as the next dance, and the peace talks began. With that going on, no one would notice their absence, and Rajmael's advisors would keep the nobility distracted. Leliana's agents had already smuggled their weapons in. But before they went any further, Rajmael desperately took those damned boots of his feet and ripped the socks off.

"_My dear Inquisitor, what on earth are you doing?"_ Vivienne asked almost outraged.

"_I feel disconnected from my surroundings wearing footwear."_ Rajmael answered as he took in the feeling of his freed feet in the cool air. _"I can't fully feel what's going on around me if I'm not full connected to the ground. Almost like walking blind."_

"_Oh, thank the Maker!" _Cassandra sighed. _"I'm glad I'm not the only feeling that way. I can barely move in this damned bear trap that passes for women's clothing!"_ The Seeker unclasped the skirt that she was dragging and cast it to the side, revealing to everyone on those long, supple legs. She was wearing a rather risque set of stockings that were held up by black lacy garters, and she was even wearing a matching set of undergarments. Rajmael loved how those beautiful calves of hers flexed in those sexy high heels she was wearing.

"_Would you stop staring at me like that!?"_ Cassandra demanded as she blushed several shades of crimson.

"_But you have such glorious legs."_ Rajmael drooled as all the other guys, and Sera nodded as though they were hypnotized by her stocking clad limbs.

Cassandra flashed them a dangerous look, and they all took their eyes off her legs and back into their heads. They still had a reason for being here, and they needed to finish it.

A sense of sickened disgust washed over all of them when they came into the servant's sleeping quarters and found them all dead. Their throats were cut, necks snapped, and hearts stabbed, all lying face down in a pool of their own blood.

"_Well, shit."_ Varric commented grimly.

"_Someone will be held accountable for this."_ Cassandra swore.

"_Venatori, friggin' arsehole, fuck-shits!"_ Sera cursed.

"_Someone really doesn't want their actions known."_ Vivienne stated.

"_Why would anyone go through all the trouble of murdering mere servants?"_ Blackwall asked pityingly.

"_Someone who doesn't want any witnesses."_ Solas answered solemnly.

"_They were only getting ready for bed, then burning pain came from behind and in the shadows. They die instantly."_ Cole said sadly. _"They were only doing their jobs to feed their families."_

"_This was done by professionals."_ Bull stated as fact.

"_They must be in a hurry if they didn't take the time to dispose the bodies."_ Dorian pointed out.

Rajmael tracked the blood and bodies out to the nearby garden courtyard near the noble apartments. Near the fountain was the body of a human with a dagger sticking out of his back. Judging from his mask and finery, he was a high ranking noble. What was he doing here?

"_Wait, I know him!"_ Viviene declared startled. _"He's an emissary for the Council of Heralds!"_

Varric pulled the dagger out of the poor sod's back, and noticed how high quality this blade was. It was adorned with wyvern leather, gems and platinum. _"This isn't exactly an assassin's blade. There's a crest on the hilt. You think you recognize it?"_

Vivienne caught the dagger when Varric tossed it to her. _"Indeed. This is the Chalon's family crest. Oh, Gaspard, what have you been up to?"_

Rajmael looked at the poor dead bastard and pondered what was happening. This made no sense at all. Gaspard may be a bully and a thug, with as much grace as a blind bull in a glass house, but he wasn't this stupid. Why would he kill an emissary for the Council of Heralds with his own dagger, then leave the body and the murder weapon right where it could be found? The servants were all killed by expert assassins, but this murder seemed more like a set up.

A shrill shriek split the silent air as an elven servant came running from the gardens for dear life. But before she could get any further, a white harlequin assassin jumped from the shadows, and stabbed her in the back. The pied professional smashed a vial to the ground and disappeared into a puff of smoke, and on to the apartment balconies. The assassin's accomplices came running out of the gardens, ready to engage. A Mage, Spellbinder, a Brute, several Gladiators, and two Marksmen.

"_Venatori Agents!"_ Rajmael yelled as he drew his sword. The others drew their weapons, and charged their magic as they engaged. Rajmael looked around and saw the harlequin getting away, he had to catch up with her.

The first threat to be dealt with, must always be the spellbinder. The tomes they carried and recited from, held the spirits that were bound within the pages, and they used these spirits to increase their allies' physical capability, as well as summoning entrapment circles and hexes. And they were slippery bastards, too. Able to teleport from one spot to another like a swarm of book pages, making them difficult to target. Unfortunately for them, Rajmael was good at moving around, too.

The Inquisitor phase stepped through the melee, passing through the other combatants like a ghost, and stopped right in front of the spellbinder. Before the Tevinter mage could utter another word from his book, Rajmael's slammed his palm on to the man's forehead, and made it explode with a powerful electric charge. Wet chunks of brain and skull flew all over the place.

Solas chucked a Stone-Fist from his staff at one of the Marksmen. The archer jumped out of the way, but Solas struck his staff downward, and Veilstrike smashed the limber assailant right out of the air in mid-flip. The Marksmen landed on his head at a bad angle, and the weight of his body broke his neck.

The other Marksmen had the misfortune of trying to outshoot both Sera and Varric. The Red Jenny thief and Dwarven Merchant shot him down like a quail, and turned his body into a pincushion.

With Thunderstrike in hand, Blackwall easily broke the Gladiator's shield like it was made of clay. Lightning surged through the Avvarian mace like a storm cloud. With a powerful backhanded strike, Blackwall smashed the Gladiator right in his unprotected chest and crushed every bone inside, and the surge of electricity blew out the man's back and sent his internal organs flying.

The Brute swung his his giant battle axe with fearsome force, enough to cleave a tree in half. Indeed, this fierce human was quite adept with his weapon. But Iron Bull was even better. The qunari bull rushed his opponent before he could swing his weapon again, and knocked the Vint into a nearby wall. Bull heel kicked the guy so hard, he probably broke all his ribs, then finished him off with his by swinging his axe so hard into his abdomen, he split him in half.

Avenger was truly a sword worthy of Fereldan royalty. Over three hundred years old and it still kept its razor sharp edge. The Spellcaster was going to feel just how sharp the Avenger truly was. Cassandra purged the mana from the Tevinter Mage's veins and attacked with her sword. Even without his magic, this Venatori fanatic was formidable, using his spearheaded staff as a lethal weapon. He expertly lunged, and stabbed at her with his spearhead, his attacks darting off her shield. Cassandra planted her feet and timed her shield bash with the Vint's spear strike, making the tip of the spear slide off the shield's face. Closing the gap between them, Cassandra stepped in and brought her sword down on the Spellcaster's head. The Venator tried to block the blade with his staff, but it was for naught. The Avenger cut through the staff like it was twig, and split the Spellcaster's head in two, like a melon.

With this squad of Venatori dead, Rajmael and the others chased after the Harlequinn, she would have answers they would need. But to their own shock, they found that the entire apartment complex was practically infested with Venatori agents. How did they sneak in here?

Obviously, the Venatori were just as surprised to see the Inquisitor and his party. They were prepared to handle defenseless servants and unsuspecting Chevaliers, but they weren't prepared to handle the Inquisitor and his band of professional killers. Rajmael and his companions mowed through the cultist scum like grass.

They chased the Harlequinn into the empty Royal Apartment Complex where she was surrounded by even more Venatori Spellcasters, Gladiators and Zealots. Varric laid down a mine field, while Cassandra purged all mana from the area, and Dorian finished them off with a powerful ball of fire. Unable to summon their magic, and completely surrounded by volatile explosives, the Venatori cultists were burned into crisp, black husks that screamed for their god to save them.

With her backup dead, and a bunch of pissed off people who just wiped out an entire platoon of powerful maleficar glaring at her, the Harlequin made one last desperate attempt to get away, only to run face first into a stiletto, courtesy of a certain elven spy.

Somehow Rajmael wasn't surprised to see Ambassador Briala here.

"_Fancy meeting you here, Inquisitor."_ The Ambassador said sarcastically. _"Shouldn't you be back at the Ball Room making the nobility grovel at your feet?"_

"_I quickly got tired of that uncomfortable sensation of those pussies kissing my ass."_ Rajmael responded with equal sarcasm.

Briala gave a light chuckle. _"Alas, that is half of all politics. You've cleaned this place out. It'll take a month to clean the Tevinter blood of the marble."_ The ambassador sad satirically as she walked towards the balcony. _"I came down here to save or avenge my missing people, but you've beaten me to it."_ The city elf looked down into the courtyard and eyed the dead emissary still laying halfway in the garden fountain. _"So, the Council of Heralds' Emissary…that's not your work is it?"_

"_If it was, do you honestly think I would tell you because you asked politely?"_ Rajmael answered sardonically.

"_Sometimes the best way to get an answer, is not to receive one."_ Briala laughed. _"You may have arrived with the Grand Duke, but you don't seem to be doing his dirty work. I knew he was smuggling in his Chevaliers, but bringing in Tevinter assassins? Murdering a Council Emissary? Those are desperate acts. Gaspard must be planning to strike tonight."_

Rajmael forced himself not to smile. It would seem Briala was more in the dark than he is, and she wasn't aware of the things he knew. "_If Gaspard is behind this, then he is not doing it alone. The Duke is not a man of subtlety."_

"_That he isn't."_ Briala agreed. _"I misjudged you, Inquisitor. It seems you may be an ally worth having after all."_

"_You're damned right you misjudged me."_ Ramael said spitefully. _"But the better question is, are you an ally worth having?"_

"_What could your Inquisition do with an army of elven spies? You should think of that."_

"_Right. And you'd be so willing to aid me because of your charitable and pious nature."_ Rajmael said sardonically. _"What do you want in exchange?"_

"_Help me help our people."_ Briala answered honestly, almost eagerly.

"_Our people?"_ Rajmael scoffed. _"Not an hour ago, I wasn't even a fucking elf to you simply because of my being Dalish and my rank."_

"_I was wrong, and for that I do apologize."_ Briala confessed. _"I know which way the wind is blowing, and I'd bet coin that you'll be a part of the peace talks tonight. And if you happen to lean a little bit our way? It could prove most advantageous, for us both. Just a thought."_

Rajmael watched as the Ambassador jumped off the balcony and, in the true bardic fashion, disappear in to the darkness of the night.

"_Ugh! More bribing and double-dealings!"_ Cassandra groaned. _"How corrupt can this nation be?!"_

"_That's the nature of the Game, darling."_ Vivienne answered stoically. _"You either play it, or get played. It's much more sophisticated than just coming to blows like uncouth dog-lords."_

"_Take it from a professional, never trust what a spymaster says at face value." _Iron Bull warned. _"They're always looking for an angle."_

"_And now you've been bribed by the three most powerful parties at the ball!"_ Dorian laughed. _"Now it's almost like a Tevinter soiree."_

"_You guys should see the kind of shit they pull in Orzammar, or in the Merchants guild."_ Varric said dourly. _"Then you'd understand why I never attend guild meetings, and why I drink so much."_

"_This doesn't make a lot of sense."_ Rajmael stated worriedly. _"This Venatori were here fully armed, in the heart of this palace, and they didn't even bother disguising themselves. Gaspard may want the throne, but this is too subtle for him to plan. Someone with a lot of pull and influence got these Vints in here."_

"_Hey! Come check this out!"_ Sera screamed from around the corner. She had found the Royal suite, reserved only for the empress, and inside there was a large, gilded door with a rather complicated looking lock. _"Lookee what we got here! The Empress' pretty piggy bank! Wonder what kind of naughty nickers she's got stashed away, eh?"_

Rajmael had no compunction about jacking some loot from the wealthiest monarch in all of Thedas, she probably never lacked for gold given how extravagant she can afford to live in the middle of a war. And besides, what better place to find the Empress' secrets than in her personal vault?

Despite the expense that went into its make and the complexity of the locks, Sera cracked the vault like an egg. And sure enough, there were priceless treasures stored away in there. Rare pieces of art never seen by foreign or peasant eyes, priceless family heirlooms that dated back generations, and of course, jewelry befitting an empress.

But there was one thing that caught Rajmael's eye the most amongst all these valuables. A simple locket. Not made of gold or silver, and not encrusted with rare gemstones, but made of wood, and carved with traditional elven designs. It was carefully placed in a glass case amongst several necklaces of gold, rubies, platinum and sapphire, but this one was sat in a place of honor amongst them. Why would this be here?

Rajmael took the elven necklace and dangled it in front of him to better inspect it.

"_That's elven isn't it? Why would that be here of all places?"_ Dorian asked.

"_Of all the nice, shiny things Empress Fancy-Tits' got, why does she need some elfy junk?"_ Sera asked disappointedly.

"_A gift from happier times."_ Blackwall answered sympathetically.

"_She keeps it to try and find the happiness it once brought her, but now it only brings her sorrow."_ Cole said sadly. _"She wants to remember the joy it brought her, no matter how much pain it brings."_

"_Oh, such sentimentality is a foolish mistake. Tsk, tsk, Celene."_ Vivienne chided.

"_Wow. This sounds just like the sort of fake shit I'd put in those terrible romance books I wrote."_ Varric commented.

Cassandra touched the amber pendant around her neck. Rajmael had given it to her as a sign of his love, did Celene receive such a gift from Briala to represent their love?

Rajmael took the necklace and secured it in his pocket. It may come in useful later.

**~XoXoXo~**

The Bell was ringing for the next phase of the ball, the peace talks were going to begin soon. Rajmael and the others discreetly made their way out of the garden.

Rajmael reappeared fashionably late, and just in time, too. The band was just starting up their next tune. Rajmael noticed the three contenders of the ball were speaking on the far side balcony. He wanted to discuss what their next step should be, but a certain elegantly dressed noble lady approached with grace and purpose.

"_Inquisitor Lavellan."_ The lady curtsied. _"Grand Duchess Florianne de Chalons. We met briefly at your introduction. We haven't been properly introduced, welcome to my party."_

"_Should I be surprised that the hostess of this little soiree wants to see me now?"_ Rajmael said sarcastically.

"_This is Orlais, my dear Inquisitor. Nothing happens here by accident."_ Florianne laughed. _"And after how well you've charmed the whole court, how could I not officially make your acquaintance. I believe you and I are concerned about the actions of a certain…person." _The Grand Duchess motioned Rajmael to follow her. _"Come, dance with me. Spies will not hear us on the dance floor."_

"_Dancing with a heathen elf? What will the rest of the court say?"_ Rajmael asked with a sarcastic smile.

"_I'm eager to find out."_ Florianne smiled. _"Unless, of course, you feel you're not up to the task."_

"_All Dalish love to dance."_ Rajmael assured as he offered his arm. _"Please, let me show you."_

"_I'd be delighted, Lord Inquisitor."_ Florianne smiled as she gently took his arm.

The Grand Duchess and The Inquisitor stood amongst the other nobles on the dance floor, her hand held delicately in his as they performed the Nevarran Waltz.

"_Have the Dalish gained a sudden interest in Orlesian Politics?"_ Florianne asked as they walked side by side to the music. _"What do you know of our war?"_

"_I know that the outcome of this war will have an effect on the rest of Thedas."_ Rajmael answered neutrally_. "The rest is all politics."_

"_No doubt you're correct. I wouldn't be surprised if Orlais is at the center of all Thedas' attention right now."_ The two of them walked in tandem with the music_. "It took a great deal of effort to arrange tonight's peace talk, yet others would use this as an opportunity for blackest treason. The future of the empire is at stake. Neither one of us wants to see it fall."_

The music picked up. The two dance partners turned to face one another and bowed in the motion and grace of swans. While Rajmael's feet kept up with the music, his mind remained sharp_. "Are you certain that's what we both want, Lady Flroianne?"_

The two exchanged hands back and forth into an inside turn, Rajmael led and she followed with astounding fluidity and grace. All the couples danced in natural turns on the ballroom floor, but many were focusing on the Duchess and the Inquisitor.

Cassandra looked down on to the dancefloor and was surprised to see Rajmael dancing with the Grand Duchess. While she was never one for dancing herself, she couldn't help but feel a searing pang of jealously burn inside her. She unconsciously gripped the marble railing above the dancefloor, and caused it to crack in her strong hands as she enviously watched the extravagantly dressed Orlesian noble dance with her lover.

"_I hope we are of one mind on this matter, Lord Inquisitor."_ Florianne stated as she followed his lead.

Rajmael held and led the Duchess with both grace and certainty. _"In times like these, both in and out of the Orlesian Court, it is difficult to determine friend from foe. Isn't that right, Your Grace?"_

"_I know you arrived as a guest of my brother, and have been everywhere in the palace."_ Florianne responded as they both performed a Reverse Natural Turn. _"You are a curiosity to some, and a matter of concern to others."_

"_Am I the curiosity or the concern to you, Your Grace?"_ Rajmael smiled almost sinisterly.

"_A little of both, actually."_ Florianne smiled. _"This evening is a matter of great importance, Inquisitor. I wonder what role you will play in it. Do you even know who is to be trusted in the Winter Palace? Can you distinguish friend from foe?"_

"_I trust the Inquisition, Your Grace." _Rajmael answered slyly. _"In a place where lies and deception are currency, the only ones that can be trusted are those who seek the truth."_

All eyes of the court were now on the Grand Duchess and the Inquisitor as they performed a series of complicated, and eloquent Inside Turns as they circles around the dance floor.

"_In the Winter Palace, everyone is alone."_ Florianne confirmed. _"It cannot have escaped your notice that certain parties are involved in dangerous machinations this evening."_

"_And here I thought dangerous machinations and backstabbing intrigue was the national pastime of this empire."_ Rajmael chuckled.

The music was reaching its crescendo. The entire court watched in awe and amazement as Rajmael upped the tempo of their step into an elegant series of turns that demonstrated both strength and grace form both partners. Flrorianne spun to her left, as Rajmael gently gripped her left shoulder with his right arm. She stopped spinning when his right arm blocks her body. With her momentum stopped, and her body held in Rajmael strong arm, Florianne simply leaned back while he supports her by holding her shoulder and ended in a graceful, almost intimate dip. Her slender body held up from the ground only by Rajmael's gentle grip.

The whole court gave a standing ovation as the two dance partners stood back up, hand in hand, as Rajmael led her off the floor to the dying beat of the music.

"_The attack will come soon. You must stop Gaspard before he strikes."_ Florianne warned as she dexterously slipped a key out of her sleeve and into Rajmael's hand. _"In my brother's office, you will find the orders he has given to his troops. And in the Guest Royal Wing Garden, you will find the captain of my brother's mercenaries. He knows all of Gaspard's secrets. I'm sure you can persuade him to be forthcoming."_

Well, that was a surprise. She just gave him everything he'd need to discredit and practically destroy her own brother. Now he knew Florianne has an ulterior motive. _"We'll see what the night has in store for us, won't we, Grand Duchess?"_

**~XoXoXo~**

Now was probably the best time to speak with each of his advisors. Each one had spoken to a royal candidate or someone who represented them.

"_That was marvelous! You'll be the talk of the Court for months!"_ Josephine applauded. _"I had no idea you could dance so well."_

"_All the clans gather at every Arlathvhen, and every time we hold a massive dance party."_ Rajmael said smilingly. _"Some of us spend year's practicing to be the best dancer of all the clans. I came in fifth last time."_

"_I hope you've got some good news."_ Cullen said grimly. _"It seems the peace talks aren't all that peaceful."_

"_Florianne is up to something."_ Rajmael answered seriously. _"She knows about everything that's going on, yet somehow a bucket load of Venatori agents got in here on her watch. But she points the finger at her brother."_

"_Florianne and Gaspard are very close, but she'd sell him out in heartbeat to save her own skin."_ Leliana responded. _"It may be up to us to determine who will reign when the peace talks fall through."_

"_So…." _Rajmael started. _"Who do you think the Inquisition should support?" _

"_That in itself is a trial." _Josephine stated harshly. _"Each candidate has their skills and merits, but each one has a flaw that could be the precedence for a new war."_

"_Well, each of you has chatted up a different candidate."_ Rajmael pointed out. _"Let's hear it!"_

"_I, myself, would support the Grand Duke."_ Cullen started. _"His has the stronger claim to the Golden Throne, he has the support of the military and has a mind for warfare."_

"_It takes more to be a ruler than being able to lead men into battle."_ Josephine pointed out.

"_True."_ Cullen conceded. _"The drawback is Gaspard wants to bring Orlais back to the glory years of Kordrilius Drakon's expansion days and reclaim their lost provinces. You can bet your boots that if the Inquisition supports the Grand Duke, we may as well be supporting a bloody war with both Nevarra and Ferelden and we could very well lose support from both kingdoms."_

"_Which is precisely why we must support Empress Celene."_ Josephine chimed. _"She is the rightful ruler and is a proven diplomat, reformer and politician. She has worked tirelessly to improve relations with neighboring kingdoms and is trying to push Orlais into an era of enlightenment."_

"_If she truly was such a skilled ruler, then the empire wouldn't be where it is now."_ Cullen rebuked.

"_On that matter, I have to agree with our Commander."_ Stepped in Leliana. _"Celene is far too concerned about appearances and courtly intrigue to actually move the nation forward in the right direction."_

"_So are you saying we should support the Grand Duke?"_ Rajmael asked.

"_Of course not."_ Leliana snorted_. "Well, not publicly, perhaps."_ That statement made the Lord Inquisitor quirk an eyebrow.

"_Gaspard doesn't have any skill at politics and is more or less a finely dressed thug, and he will bring further death and ruin to Orlais by trying to conquer and enslave Ferelden and Neverra once more. Celene doesn't have the fortitude to make real changes that will actually improve the lives of the people of Orlais, she'll only do so much as long as the nobles are happy. Who we truly need is Briala."_ Rajmael stated authoritatively

"_Briala?"_ Cullen asked incredulously. _"Somehow I doubt the nobility of Orlais will ever bend the knee for and Elf, no offense, your grace."_

"_None taken." _Rajmael answered.

"_No."_ Leliana stated. _"But they will answer to a guileless buffoon like Gaspard while he has an army of elven spies pointing daggers at his back with blackmail waiting on raven's wings."_

Rajmael and the rest of his advisors took a moment to let what Sister Nightingale said sink in.

"_You understand that to do that Celene must…die."_ Josephine pointed out apprehensively.

"_Then let her die."_ Leliana said dispassionately. _"Celene allowed all of this to happen because she cared more about her appearance rather than the welfare of her people. Briala however can bring true peace to the empire, not just within and outside its border, but for the elves as well."_

Rajmael took a moment to consider his Councilors' advice. He felt he knew what he had to do, but first he had to look into what Florianne had told him. Somehow he knew in his gut she was up to something. The Duchess couldn't know so much, yet have done so little.

**~XoXoXo~**

Now was probably the best time to speak to the three center pieces of tonight's festivities. May as well start with the man who invited him here in the first place. Rajmael found Gaspard on one of the side balconies, drinking enough port to drown a fleet.

"_Ah, Inquisitor! Come, have a drink!"_ Gaspard invited gregariously.

_You're in the middle of a war, with your men dying in the field and all you can do is drink_? Rajmael thought to himself. He had to admit though, Gaspard could really hold his liqour_. "I'm curious to know, Gaspard, if and when things turn in your favor, what are your goals as Emperor of Orlais? Surely you've got some plan in mind?"_

"_Don't worry, Inquisitor, I haven't forgotten my promise to you." _Gaspard assured as he downed another glass of port. _"And you're right, I do have plans. I'm not so petty as to want the throne simply because I'm the oldest grandson of Emperor Judaciel I. The first thing, the most important thing, I must do for this empire, is to reclaim our lost provinces. I cannot allow Ferelden and Nevarra to chip away at my people's borders. Celene is content to bow to the whining voices of the upstarts who stole those provinces from us, but I will lead my people back to glory."_

Now that was something Rajmael couldn't abide. There was a reason those countries rebelled against Orlais. _"You would go back to warring with other nations simply to appease your country's reputation?"_

"_I fought at the battle of White River when Loghain Mac Tir wrested Ferelden from my uncle, Emperor Florian. I was at the Battle of the Blasted Hills when Nevarra invaded it."_ Gaspard said bitterly. _"And now look what has become of the Empire since Celene took control. Demons and cults run amok, and elves are attacking our imperial soldiers, and Celene is too concerned about appearances to do anything about it. She would have us become a spineless nation of scholars, who would rather drink tea with a threat instead of fighting it. I cannot let her weakness destroy the empire my forefathers have built."_

Rajmael wasn't sure if Gaspard was being drunk or actually emotional, but he could swear he saw tears starting to form in Gaspard's eyes. Gaspard may be a drunk and a warmonger, but he was speaking the truth, and he actually believed in what he was saying. An honest, but dangerous prospect. However, maybe this was the kind of man they needed to stand against Corypheus: someone who will stand up to a problem, instead of worrying about courtly bullcrap. Rajmael had always hated Chevaliers, but he also hates the Chantry, and now he was sleeping with the Right Hand of the Divine.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael slipped the key to Gaspard's office to Leliana and instructed her to retrieve those orders. If the peace talks fall through, he could definitely use some leverage on Gaspard and the other contenders. But before he followed Florianne's lead about Gaspard's mercenaries, he decided to speak with the other two VIPs of these talks.

Rajmae decided it was finally time for him and the empress to meet face to face. But first he had to get through those three insipid ladies-in-waiting who liked to finish each other's sentences.

"_How can we help you, Inquisitor?"_ Couteau greeted politely.

"_We do enjoy speaking with you."_ Columbe insisted giddily.

"_We will speak to you on the empress' behalf." _Fleur concluded stoically.

This was getting annoying. _"Then maybe you can tell me the significance of this elven locket that I happened to stumble on?"_

"_Oh, dear."_ Couteau went pale.

"_Where did you find that?!"_ Columbe gasped.

"_We will get the Empress right away."_ Fleur stated frantically.

The three ladies scurried off and not two minutes later, Rajmael was greeted by the Empress of all Orlais. She carried herself with such grace and poise, and the dress and mask she wore accentuated her beauty, despite the fact she was getting older. But Rajmael saw through her calm façade and gilded mask, and saw the worry hidden behind her eyes.

"_Inquisitor Lavellan. I regret that we did not have time to speak earlier."_ The Empress greeted politely. _"No doubt you have many questions."_

"_Lockets like these are given as gifts of affection from a lover."_ Rajmael held out the elven locket and traced his finger along the engraved designs on its face. _"This was a gift from Briala, wasn't it?"_

"_Yes. She gave it to me for my coronation, many years ago."_ Celene answered with an undercurrent of pain in her voice. _"I…don't know why I kept it. It was a foolish thing to do."_

"_What exactly happened between you two?"_ Rajmael asked.

"_She wanted change, and she thought I could deliver it."_ A look of regret washed over her face from behind her mask. _"But I couldn't, not without tearing my empire apart. Centuries of culture and prejudice do not change overnight. But in the end, I failed her, betrayed her. I should have dared more, but these are some things that even a throne can't accomplish."_

"_You still love her."_ Rajmael surmised sympathetically.

"_Perhaps I do, but I cannot place her above all the people in my empire, Inquisitor."_ That sympathetic look washed away and was replaced by that authoritative look that befitted a shemlen empress. _"Dispose of the locket however you wish, Inquisitor. It means nothing to me."_

"_Aren't the elves a part of your empire, too?"_ Rajmael asked grimly. _"Or are my people just cattle to you?"_

"_I wish I could help both of our people, Inquisitor."_ Celene answered sadly_. "But, I regret that ideals alone aren't enough to change the world we live in."_

**~XoXoXo~**

So behind all that extravagence, jewelry and grace, Empress Celene Valmont the First was just another woman with a broken heart, and a complicated situation that was out of her control. This could prove useful. But first he would need to speak with Briala, who was waiting on the balcony for the conclusion to the talks.

"_Inquisitor."_ The Ambassador greeted_. "Have you given any thought to what I said?"_

"_Just out of curiosity, Ambassador, what do you intend to gain from these talks? What's your goal?"_

"_For the elves of this empire to finally have a voice."_ Briala answered with righteousness. _"To have even one of our own stand as an equal amongst Orlais' nobles. One who cannot be ignored, or swept aside."_

Of all the things Rajmael expected to hear, he expected that answer the least. _"Really? That's is what you're after in these talks?"_

"_After the Blight in Ferelden, the crown elevated a local hahren to Bann of the Alienage, and King Alistair granted the lands of Ostagar to the Dalish, to do with as they please for aiding them in Battle of Denerim. Is it so wrong to want the same thing for the elves of Orlais?"_

And here Rajmael thought Briala was just acting out of vengeance's sake against a former lover. _"You have to realize that Ferelden and Orlais are totally different animals, Briala. The Feredans respect deed and honor, whereas the Orlesians only care for appearances and social rank. They could never accept something like that without violence ensuing."_

"_And perhaps you're right, Inquisitor."_ Briala confirmed_. "But that won't stop me from fighting for my people, even if I must die to do so. Is there anything else you wish to discuss?"_

"_Actually, I was hoping you'd clear up what I'm thinking about this."_ Rajmael dangled the elven locket out in front of the Ambassador.

Briala's eyes went wide with shock_. "Where did you find that?!_

"_It was sitting in the lost and found of Empress Celene's personal vault."_ Rajmael asnwered sarcastically. _"But I take it this is actually yours."_

"_It was my mother's originally."_ Briala answered sadly. _"I gave it to her in secret when she was coronated. If Gaspard found this it would destroy her! Why would she do something so foolish?"_

"_Perhaps deep down, she still cares for you."_ Rajmael answered sympathetically as he handed Briala back her locket. _"Perhaps she even regrets what she did to you."_

"_I…I'm not sure I can believe that. But I would like to."_ Briala said as she held the locket to her heart.

"_Having love ripped away, and feeling its bitter pain is something I'm intimately familiar with, Ambassador."_ Rajmael informed as he remembered his loved ones he lost. _"Perhaps you two were better together than as enemies."_

"_Maybe we were."_ Briala confirmed_. "But in order for any peace to be between us, she would need to make the first step."_

**~XoXoXo~**

The final stages of the talks were commencing, Rajmael and his group snuck out of the ballroom to follow Florianne's lead. Leliana urged extreme caution as this could very likely be a trap. When they entered the Royal Rooms Rajmael felt the Anchor crackling in his hand, and felt the unwelcome, familiar magic of a Rift. Here? In the Winter Palace?

"_You painted Orlesian arsehole!"_ A foreign Fereldan voice cursed. _"When I get out of here I'm gonna butcher you like the pigs that you are!"_

Rajmael busted through the door into the nearby courtyard where the voice was screaming, and was surprised to be greeted, not only by a Rift spewing out demons, but by Venatori Marksmen pointing their arrows right at him. Well, shit.

"_So good of you to except my invitation, Inquisitor."_ Greeted the familiar voice of the Grand Duchess. She stood over them on a balcony with the kind of arrogant smile that was famous amongst Orlesian nobles. _"I wasn't sure you'd taken my bait. You're quite the challenge to read."_

Rajmael returned that arrogant smile to the Duchess_. "Here for another dance, Florianne? We've got quite the audience this time."_

"_Alas, I fear I have no time for one last song with you."_ Florianne lamented sarcastically_. "Such a shame, you dance so well."_

"_Oh, but we will have one last dance, Florianne." _Rajmael promised. _"When I'm tap dancing all over your grave!"_

"_I'm afraid I don't see that happening."_ The Duchess mocked. _"It was so good of you to walk into my trap so willingly, I quickly grew tired of your meddling. My Lord Corypheus insisted that the Empress die tonight. I just needed you out of the room long enough to run my dagger into Celene's heart."_

This Orlesian bitch willingly served The Elder One? _"You, an Orlesian Royal, would betray your own country to damnation for Corypheus? What kind of drugs are you smoking to make you think that's a good idea?"_

"_For someone so formidable, you think so small."_ The Grand Duchess laughed. _"Why rule an empire when I can rule a whole world?! With Celene's death Corypheus' demon army, conjured from a nightmare, shall overtake all of Southern Thedas, and then he will cast down the absent Maker, and rule from The Black City! Thedas will finally be led by an attentive god, and when I present him your head, he will make ruler of all Thedas, Second only to the Elder One!"_

Rajmael rubbed his forehead wearily_. "I was being sarcastic, you didn't actually have to do the obligatory 'Evil Villain Speech'."_

"_Please?"_ Dorian beseeched. _"You could spare us all the humiliation, it is rather embarrassing."_

"_Indeed."_ Vivienne concurred. _"Such displays are disgrace to Orlais."_

"_You think these villain types practice those speeches in private, or do they make it up as they go?" _Varric asked sarcastically.

"_Seriously, do you honestly think this is enough to stop me, Florianne? Or are the chemicals in that makeup you're wearing taking a toll on your brain?"_ Rajmael goaded.

"_Ha! Silly Rabbit."_ Florianne mocked. _"You have no idea what Samson and I have in store for this world. I just needed you out of the ballroom long enough to strike. No one, not even Gaspard, in their darkest nightmares, would ever have suspected that I would be the one to slay the Empress with my own hand! Corypheus will delight in me after I hand the empire to him!"_

"_And now you've just told me your whole plan."_ Rajmael chuckled disbelievingly. _"You've got to be high on something."_

"_A pity you won't see the rest my soiree, Inquisitor. They'll be talking about it for centuries. Kill them, and bring me the Herald's marked hand. It will make for a good gift for the Elder One."_ Florianne walked out of the courtyard with that arrogant step in her stride, and that shit-eating grin on her face.

Rajmael was going to enjoy wiping that look off her face. The Marksmen released a volley of arrows at The Inquisitor. Rajmael raised his Shimmering Shield, and the arrowheads slid off him like rain drops, while his mages and archer struck down the Venatori Marksmen with fire, ice, bolts and arrows.

Within seconds, the Rift crackled and roared as demons spewed forth like an infestation. Under most circumstances, being in a closed off courtyard filled with demons would have spelled the end for anyone. But there was only one major difference. The Inquisitor and his companions weren't trapped in a courtyard full of demons. The demons were trapped in a courtyard with them.

While Rajmael's companions laid waste to the various demons that were sorry enough to crawl out of the Fade. The warriors cut them down and smashed them to pieces, while the mages called upon their arcane powers to destroy the demonic invaders, and the rogues struck them from the shadows with stealth, explosives and steel. Within minutes the demons were slain and the Rift sealed.

The tied up mercenary captain was more than a little bit pissed about being fed to demons, and believed wholeheartedly that Gaspard set him up. With the promise of better pay, and better treatment, Rajmael quickly got the man's cooperation and promise to testify against Gaspard if needs be.

Time was of the essence. They had to get to Florianne before it was too late, but every step they took to navigate through the Royal Wing back to the Ballroom was interrupted by Venatori agents and Orlesian Harlequins.

And all the while, Rajmael contemplated one thing: who shall rule Orlais? Empress Celene, the proven diplomat and reformer, who worked tirelessly to promote peace with other nations, but who had ultimately failed to maintain peace within her empire for fear of appearances. Gaspard, the confessed usurper and warmonger who wished to return to warring and annexing nations, but was also a man of action, who would not back down from the Venatori daring to challenge the might of Orlais. And then there was Briala, the elven leader who sought to elevate their peoples' status in the Orlesian Empire, no matter the cost, or who might have to die.

It was never a good idea to stand between the Inquisitor and his mission. A concept that failed to dawn on these Venatori, a mistake that would cost them dearly. Rajmael incinerated their bodies with lightning that could rival a sea storm, and with masterful skill, he plunged his sword into their hearts, cut down their bodies, leaving behind a trail of singed and severed bodies behind him in a river blood.

**~XoXoXo~**

With the Venatori obstacles dead, Rajmael found an alternate path back to the ballroom, and just in time, too. The peace talks were reaching their conclusion, and Gaspard was walking his sister towards the Empress.

"_Thank the Maker you've arrived."_ Cullen praised. _"The peace talks are ending, and we still don't know who the assassin is."_

"_Cullen, Grand Duchess Florianne is the assassin!" _Rajmael hissed.

The Commander's eyes and face were painted with shock. _"What? How could…?! What should we do?"_

Now was the moment of truth. The fate of an entire empire was now resting on Rajmael's next action. Who should he save? Who should rule? The Duchess was getting closer to the Empress. Within in a split second, Rajmael realized what needed to be done.

"_Cullen, get Josephine and Leliana. I want the three of you to grab some drinks and enjoy the show."_ Rajmael answered calmly.

"_What?!"_ Cullen couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"_Just trust me."_ Rajmael assured. Rajmael strode towards the dance floor, the nobles graciously parted way for him. Rajmael saw Cassandra standing amongst the crowd and gave her a flirtatious wink. Everyone's attention was set on the Inquisitor as he approached all three contenders and the Grand Duchess. Their awed gasps instantly directed the Duchess' attention to the Inquisitor.

"_Duchess Florianne! We owe the court one last performance before the night is over."_ Rajmael called amicably. _"After all, you gathered them all here for a grand spectacle, did you not?"_

Florianne was in shock, but she tried to hide it. How could the Inquisitor be alive? _"I-Inquisitor?"_

"_Smile, Your Grace." _Rajmael urged mockingly. _"You're at the center of everyone's attention, just like you wanted. You wouldn't want them to think you've lost control. I mean, this is your little soiree, isn't it?"_

She could feel all the eyes of Orlais on her, and not in the way she had hoped_. "Wh-who wouldn't be delighted to speak with you, Your Excellency?"_

Rajmael could sense her resolve weakening. She was being shown up in front of the whole court, and it was affecting her. The ultimate way to break an Orlesian's spirit, was to humiliate them in front of their peers. _"Now, what was that little thing you said to me, before you sicked your Tevinter assassins on me? Oh, yes. You needed to keep me out of the ballroom long to plunge your dagger into Celene's heart. Right?"_

The Empress looked down on her cousin with a scowl that could peel the bark of a tree.

"_I realize I'm being a poor guest, Your Grace, but it's just so hard to appreciate my host, especially when she's being so fickle with her favor."_ Rajmael's smile grew bigger as Florianne's arrogance grew smaller. He circle around her and could feel her spirit breaking. _"I mean, trying to kill me is one thing. But framing your own brother for the murder of Council Emissary? That's pretty low. It was your dagger, the one bearing the Chalons family crest, sticking out of his of his back. You just left it there to frame your brother and turn the entire court against him."_

A sense of shock and outrage overcame Gaspard as he looked at his own sister with a look of disgust.

Florianne was starting to shake like a leaf as she felt the hateful gaze of the entire Winter Palace bearing down on her, and no Corypheus to save her. She desperately looked around the whole ballroom for any of her subordinates.

Rajmael noticed her darting gaze. _"Who are you looking for, Your Grace? Oh, your assassins? The ones you let infiltrate the palace? I'm afraid they're all dead. I killed them on the way over here. Almost got blood on my fancy threads, too."_

At this point, Florianne was on the verge of tears, and Rajmael wanted to laugh at her_. "And it was such a good plan, too! Like something out of Hard in Hightown! Your cousin, your brother, even the entire Council of Heralds. Any and everyone who could possibly rival you under one roof, all set up for you to slay. Like leading lambs to the slaughter. It was such grand party, I'm sorry to be the one who ruined. But not really."_

The tears in Florianne's eyes were almost out, and Rajmael could see her trembling. _"Such dramatic tales you spin, Your Holiness. But do you really think anyone would believe them?"_

"_That is for a judge to decide…Cousin."_ Empress said damningly.

The Empress' chevaliers walked down to the dance floor with the intent to arrest the Duchess. Florianne looked desperately to her brother. _"Gaspard? Gaspard!"_ Florianne begged.

"_I…did not wish to believe you could do this, Sister. But I have no choice."_ Gaspard turned his back on his sister like he didn't even know her.

Florianne reached into her sleeves to pull out her poisoned stilettos, perhaps she could still get away with her life. But her sleeves were empty! What happened to them? How could she have lost them?

Two metallic clinks struck the marble dance floor as Florianne's stilettos fell at the Inquisitor's feet. Dropped by a strange, pale young man, whose face Florianne couldn't see.

"_No. You will not hurt anyone else anymore."_ Cole said confidently and disappeared from the floor and from everyone else's memory.

_"Thank you, Cole."_ Rajmael smiled.

Florianne collapsed to the floor, sobbing like a little girl. And just to rub salt in the wound, Rajmael tore her mask from her face, revealing her tear stained face, with ruined makeup, to the whole court. The ultimate form of disgrace to an Orlesian.

"_You tried to play The Game against me, and you got played, Florianne. See if your Elder One can help you now."_ Rajmael sneered as the Chevalier dragged the sobbing Duchess away.

Rajmael saw Celene, Gaspard and the Empress making their way to the balcony and could already feel the tension emanating off of them. He'd better get over there before blood was spilt.

"_Your sister attempted regicide in front of the entire court, Gaspard!"_ Briala accused.

"_You're the spymaster, Rabbit."_ Gaspard denounced. _"The only one who could have seen this coming, and the only one to gain from this atrocity is you."_

"_So you deny any knowledge of your own sister's actions?"_ Briala asked rhetorically.

"_That's right!"_ Gaspard shouted. _"I never would have suspected my own sister! But you…you knew about this whole setup and did nothing!"_

"_I don't know what's more amazing, the fact that you think that I'm omniscient, or the fact that you believe in your own innocence."_ Briala balked.

"_Enough!"_ Celene commanded. _"Tevinter plots against our empire while you two bicker like children! For the sake of Orlais, I will have answers!"_

Rajmael now held the winning hand in this little game. And he knew just who to help, and whose throat he was going to step on.

"_Gaspard's right. Briala did know about this."_ Rajmael answered confidently, raising a look of shock from both the Duke and the Ambassador_. "And I wouldn't have stopped Florianne if it wasn't for her."_

"_The two of you were working together?"_ Celene asked disbelievingly.

"_But, of course."_ Briala answered, she played along wonderfully.

"_Briala handed me Gaspard's orders to have his general sneak his Chevaliers into the Winter Palace."_ Rajmael continued.

"_A mere precaution should the worst arise."_ Gaspard reasoned, but did not deny_. "And in light of my sister's action, it was not a foolish one."_

"_You claim to know nothing of your sister's actions, yet came prepared for it? You truly think anyone will believe such a convenient lie?"_ Briala scoffed.

"_And we have the captain of Gaspard's Fereldan mercenaries."_ Rajmae revealed_. "He will testify that he and his men were hired to raid the talks and stage a coup."_

"_Fereldan mercenaries? I didn't think you'd stoop as low as that, Cousin."_ Celene scowled.

"_Don't be naïve, Celene. The only difference between mercenaries and soldiers is their pay grade."_ Gaspard scoffed.

"_In light of overwhelming evidence, I have no choice but to declare you an enemy of the Orlesian Empire."_ Celene said with full authority and regality_. "Duke Gaspard de Chalons, you are hereby sentenced to death."_

"_It is better to die trying to fight for what is mine, instead of trying to lick everyone's boots to appease them, like a sniveling beggar."_ Gaspard spat. The empress' chevaliers came and escorted the Duke away.

Celene looked to Briala with a familiar tenderness in her eyes. _"I…cannot believe you did this for me."_

"_Celene…." _Briala returned Celene's gaze and gently held the empress' hand in hers.

Celene looked to the Inquisitor with gratitude. _"Inquisitor…thank you. I owe you my life. And Orlais owes you its future."_ Celene joined her hand in Briala's and the two held them together lovingly. _"And thank you for…us."_

"_Neither of our people's will forget this. And nor will we."_ Briala promised.

"_You two are the best hope for all your people. Bring them as much joy as you two bring each other."_ Rajmae implored.

"_We will not waste this opportunity you have given us."_ Celene swore. _"Come, stand with us. We shall address the nobility together."_

"_Wait." _Rajmael bade seriously. _"There is one last thing I must do before anything else."_

Rajmael quickly caught up with the chevaliers who were taking the Duke away. Before they got any further Rajmael stood before the disgraced Duke, the two glared at each other hatefully. The Inquisitor peeled off his glove, revealing the horrid burn scar beneath, and threw it at Gaspard, and Gaspard caught it.

The two chevaliers acknowledged the Inquisitor's gesture. The throwing of the gauntlet was a challenge to a duel, and Gaspard was still a chevalier. The laws of etiquette and honor were very clear. They undid Gaspard's shackles, and gave him back his sword, while the nobles of Orlais huddled together to watch.

"_So this is how it ends?"_ Gaspard sighed. _"I suppose I should be grateful for you allowing me to die with a sword in my hand. Do you intend to use your Dalish wooden sword against me?"_

"_You are not worthy of such an honor."_ Rajmael hissed. _"I'm going to kill you with your own sword."_

"_Even after all this? Why?"_ Gaspard asked curiously as he assumed his stance.

"_It's stupid simple, Gaspard. I am an elf, and you're a Chevalier. And I fucking hate Chevaliers!" _

"_I suppose I shouldn't be surprised." _Gaspard lunged with his sword, Rajmael evaded.

The Arcane Warrior could tell from that one attack, that Gaspard's injuries took a terrible toll on him. His lunge fell short, and his stance was unsteady. The Duke was old and weakened, whereas Rajmael was still in his prime. This would be quick.

Despite Gaspard's age and crippling injuries, he still swung his sword with incredible speed and precision, but it wasn't enough to do anything to Rajmael as he expertly dodged and evaded each stroke.

Gaspard's temper was getting the better of him. He would not be humiliated so be a heathen knife-ear. He lunged his sword like a lance on horseback, but he overextended his reach. Rajmael turned to the side, ever so slightly, and the blade of the sword missed him by mere hairs. The Inquisitor simultaneously jammed his left elbow into Gaspard's masked face, and hit his right fist under the Duke's sword hand, knocking the Duke off balance and sending his sword out of his hand and into the air.

Rajmael caught the sword as it fell back down and held it to Gaspard's throat. The Inquisitor took a moment to examine the blade and feel the weight and balance of it in his hand. Despite its gaudy appearance, it was masterfully crafted.

"_What's that thing you Chevaliers do on graduation day?"_ Rajmael rhetorically asked with hate in his voice. _"Test your blades on elves? Oh, what sick irony this is."_

Rajmael raised the sword and brought it down on the Duke's head, easily splitting his skull, and his mask in twain. It wasn't such a bad sword after all.

With the Duke dead, and his body being carried off by the chevaliers, Celene and Briala approached the floor to address the nobility. All the nobles had gathered on to the dance floor, eagerly awaiting for word from their empress. All bristling with anticipation and anxiety from tonight's revelations and bloodshed.

"_Lords and ladies of the court, this is a night for celebration!"_ Celene called_. "Tonight those who wished to poison our empire have been slain and we shall now lay down the cornerstone of change that will pave the road to victory against our enemy. And from this victory, we shall create a new world where all men and women live in harmony. And I will begin this new era by welcoming a new member to our court: Marquis Briala of the Dales!"_

Briala stood with full dignity and grace that befitted a newly made noble of her standing. The other nobles stood in shock and awe. _"This is not just a victory for Halamshiral, or within elves alone. But for all people who live within the empire."_

"_A thousand years ago, Andraste stood before the might of the Tevinter Imperium with and army of men and elves, and together they brought down the most powerful empire in history."_ Celene continued. _"We shall follow in her footsteps, and face the full might of the Elder One, and we will triumph!"_

Celene and Briala both looked to the Inquisitor to say something. Rajmael wasn't one for inspirational speeches, but he knew the importance of words. _"The Elder One has come to rip the world we love apart, and the only way to stand up to him, and save our world, is to stand as one. And together, we will stop Corypheus and end the threat he poses to Thedas."_

"_But that is for tomorrow."_ Celene stated. _"Tonight, let us drink and celebrate our newfound friendship. Let the festivities commence!"_

While the nobility began dancing and drinking, Rajmael went out to the balcony for a moment to himself. It's been a long night.

"_I'm surprised to see you here, Inquisitor."_ Said the newly familiar voice of Lady Morrigan. _"The nobility make drunken toasts to your accomplishment, and the elves celebrate the victory you gave them, and yet here are all alone. Do you not relish in your victories, Herald?"_

"_Please, just call me Rajmael."_ The Herald insisted as he reached into his coat for his pipe. _"And I think I've had enough of Orlesians and the parties to last me a lifetime."_

"_On that we can both agree."_ Morrigan laughed_. "And it seems fortune favors us both, for neither of us will probably be attending another Orlesian gala for some time. By imperial decree of Empress Celene, it would seem I'm to accompany you and offer my considerable expertise to your cause as a liaison of the court."_

Rajmael chuckled smoke out of his mouth. _"Well, at least I got something good out of this long, difficult night. Welcome to the New Inquisition, Lady Morrigan."_

"_A most gracious response, Lord Inquisitor. I shall meet you at Skyhold."_ Lady Morrigan respectfully nodded her head and gracefully exited the balcony.

Rajmael heard the footfall of what could only be Cassandra's steps in those sexy high heels of hers. _"Ugh, I can't believe you managed to get out before me. Some Antivan noble insisted that I model for a scupture in this dress."_

"_I'd actually pay some serious coin for that."_ Rajmael joked.

"_Empress Celene is safe, and the Elder One's plan is foiled. You've done extremely well."_ Cassandra complimented. _"Getting her and Briala back together was a bit of a gamble, but you came out the better for it."_

"_The two of them once worked brilliantly together."_ Rajmael responded. _"Perhaps now that their quarrel is behind them, the two can now work even better once more. And perhaps my people will now get a better life with Briala ruling the Dales."_

"_Hopefully this will be one of many victories against Corypheus."_ Cassandra said. _"But for now, we should return to Skyhold. Our men will be on alert and we must continue preparing to face the Venatori."_

Rajmael dumped the cinder out of his pipe and stored it away. _"Wait. There is one last thing we must do, or I'll never have this opportunity again."_ Rajmael stood before his lover and bowed to her requestingly. _"Will you honor me with a dance, ma vhenan?"_

"_A dance? After everything we've been through tonight?"_ Cassandra asked incredulously.

"_Can you think of a better time than now?"_

Cassandra smiled that beautiful smile of hers, the one she reserved only for him, and placed her arms around him. The two of them gently waltzed to the beat of the band inside. _"I suppose this isn't terrible. I had no idea you could dance."_

"_And I had no idea you looked so beautiful in a dress." _Rajmael laughed. _"Perhaps we should do both more often?"_

"_I…make no promises."_ Cassandra smiled. The two of them danced into the night to music that played for them. And for at least a few hours more, they forgot about the worries and danger of their lives. The two contentedly danced and remained lost in each other's eyes.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

**Okay, First of all, I know some of you are probably disappointed about the outcome of the Winter Palace, I got a few PMs from people asking me to kill Celene, and I'll admit, I like doing that because I read "The Masked Empire" and watching her die actually tickles me, but hear me out! I've kept her alive and killed Gaspard for a reason. I'll be doing so serious OCness, That's Original Content, very soon, and it involves some of the choices I made. So please bare with me! Oh, and please leave a review, if you don't mind.**


	16. Chasing the Past

**Chasing The Past**

It was late in the morning and Rajmael just got back from the Winter Palace, and Rajmael found himself once more in the Skyhold Garden. He stood before the small shrine dedicated to his gods and prepared for his morning prayers. Just as he was about to begin he felt a strange, unknown presence. He looked behind him and noticed a young human boy no older than Eva, with dark hair wearing simple Orlesian styled clothing in dark colors. Somehow the boy seemed familiar. Rajmael looked at the proud griffon pendant on his chest, the pendant of a Grey Warden, and knew he had seen it before somewhere.

"_You're the Inquisitor."_ The child pointed out. _"Mother didn't tell me the Inquisitor was an elf."_

Rajmael couldn't help but smile at the boy. _"You caught me. Did my ears or my tattoos give me away?"_

The boy shook his head. _"No, it was your magic, I felt it right away. Only the elvhen have ever been able to use such power so greatly with those swords."_

Rajmael curiously quirked an eyebrow. What was this child talking about?

"_Kieran. Are you bothering the Inquisitor?"_ Morrigan asked as she approached the boy.

"_Of course not. Did you see his hand, Mother?"_ The boy answered quietly.

"_I did see, in fact. 'Tis time to return to your studies, little man."_ Morrigan instructed softly.

Kieran gave that disinterested sigh that Rajmael used to give to his Keeper, the same one Eva gave him when he gave her chores. Morrigan motioned her hand, and Kieran quietly obeyed.

"_My son. Never where you expect him to be, naturally." _Morrigan said affectionately. Morrigan no longer wore a gown that was appropriate for the Orlesian court, but almost tattered looking leather, furs and feathers that confirmed her Chasind heritage.

Now Rajmael remembered why the boy seemed so familiar. _"He…seems like a fine boy. You must be proud of him. Parenthood is indeed a blessing."_

"_I…have done my best."_ Morrigan confessed. _"No son of mine would be raised in a cold marsh, bereft of all contact with the world. I never saw myself being a mother, and having him was the best decision I ever had, and I will do anything to protect him. If he is remarkable, then that is father's doing. My love has every reason to be proud."_

Rajmael saw the familiar look of longing in Morrigan's eyes. She tried to maintain a posture of power, but a person's eyes always told the truth. And the truth was exactly what Rajmael needed to say right now.

"_Kieran's father. He is Aedan Cousland's son, isn't he?"_ Rajmael asked knowingly.

An unwelcomed look f surprise came over Morrigan's face_. "How…how could you know that?"_

"_I think you and I had better talk, Morrigan. It concerns the possible future."_ Rajmael answered seriously.

Rajmael and Morrigan sat beneath the garden gazebo, and he revealed to her the nightmarish future he had seen. The world being devoured by the Breach, a demon army crushing all of Thedas. About Aedan Cousland's furious last stand against a horde of demons after being horrifically tortured for a year. About how The Hero of Ferelden was forced to watch his wife and son die at the hands of the Elder One.

A pained look of determination was frozen on Morrigan's face as she looked over at her son. _"No. That will not happen. Inquisitor, I swear I will do whatever it takes to help you destroy Corypheus. He will not have my son as long as I draw breath."_

Somehow Rajmael now felt sorry for every poor Venatori bastard that was foolish enough to swear loyalty to Corypheus. Morrigan possesses some kind of power that was foreign, yet somehow familiar to him. It was fortunate he now had her on his side. Any woman capable of loving someone as vicious as Aedan Cousland, must also be equally vicious.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael stood in the War Room overlooking the various requests of aid from the Inquisition. Rajmael had hoped to have received word from The Champion at this point, but it seemed his Warden Contact was still underground. Rajmael was surprised and disapointed to find a request of aid from the Inner Court of Empress Celene. In the Dales where the Celene and Gaspard's forces had been fighting, both sides were now undersiege by a guerrilla group call themselves the Freeman of the Dales. Things were still chaotic in the capital, and Celene was still dealing with the vestiges of Gaspard and Florianne's treason. Her request was to go to the Dales and inform both sides that the war was over. Gaspard's men would believe the word of the Herald of Andraste, and her people were in dire need. The Freeman of the Dales had become a real threat.

The Dales? Rajmael, Nethras and Evanura used to dream of seeing their ancestral homeland together. Of gathering all the Dalish clans and reclaiming their lost kingdom in the name of the Creators. A childhood fantasy, but one he wished he could make real.

His mind was made up. He would go to the Dales, and see what damage these Freeman of the Dales were causing.

**The Exalted Plains**

"_Inquisitor, welcome to the Exalted Plains, a place with a long and bloody history."_ Scout Harding greeted as she looked at the landscape_. "When the Exalted March on the Dales was nearly complete, the last of the elven warriors and the Emerald Knights stood here for one last battle, instead of accepting the Chantry's offer of surrender. It's…kind of sad, really."_

"_The Dirthaveran. The Promise that was lost."_ Rajmael said sadly. _"We are the Dalish: keepers of the lost lore, walkers of the lonely path. We are the last of the Elvhen, and never again shall we submit." _For the first time in Rajmael's life, that oath tasted like bitter ashes.

"_Oh, I'm so sorry, Inquisitor. That was thoughtless of me."_ A sudden sense of embarrassment and shock came over Harding when she realized who she was talking to. She decided to quickly change the subject before she made more of an ass of herself. _"Um, these Freeman of the Dales have been seen all over the place causing havoc for the Orlesian forces wherever they go. These Imperial soldiers don't even know the war is over yet. And to make things worse, the undead are popping up everywhere."_

Rajmael wasn't sure he heard that correctly. _"The Undead? How can that be?"_

"_I'm no mage, I couldn't tell you."_ Harding shrugged. _"Some people think the Freeman are responsible."_

"_And what do you know of these Freeman of the Dales, Harding?"_

"_Most of them a deserters from both sides of the war."_ The Scout answered. _"Now they want to try taking the Dales as a kingdom for themselves. I think there's more to it than that. A bunch of butt-hurt deserters doesn't become so well organized or well-armed without some kind of outside assistance."_

"_There's nothing more dangerous, or treacherous than bastards who desert in the middle of a war." _Blackwall said distastefully.

"_Anything else?"_

"_Oh. We spotted a Dalish clan camped to the east. We kept our distance."_ Harding answered.

That last bit of information really caught Rajmael's attention. He had not received any news of the other Dalish clans, and judging from how vicious the civil war was, Rajmael had no doubt that the clans had difficulty. The Inquisitor had already done much for the citizens of Ferelden, Orlais, and the City Elves, but now he felt that he hadn't done enough for his Sister Clans.

As they made their way from the camp towards the nearby rampart, Rajmael noticed the marker erected in the middle of the path with two colossal human statues standing on either side of the path, looking down with determination carved on to their marble faces, and holding out massive brazzier in their outstretched hands like torches. Rajmael saw a plaque on the marker that read:

_The Path of Flame_

Remember where Andraste's Champions first set foot in the Exalted Plains, called Dirthavaren by the elves.

Halamshiral's dark heart was conquered, but one last challenge came from the elves, who would not submit to the Maker. They gathered upon the plain; our Champions answered their call. Marching in Andraste's Light, on the Path of Flame: Lord Demetrius Aron, Sister Amity, and Ser Brandis of Lac Celestine, called the Silver Helm.

_Demetrius's End_

Remember Lord Demetrius Aron, the only one of Andraste's Champions to fall.

The forces of the Exalted March met the elves upon the field; our numbers far exceeded theirs. The Champions, kind and fair, gave the elves a chance for peace, but the elves would not lay down their arms. They slew Lord Demetrius in their charge. Maker take him to His side.

_Lindiranae's Fall_

Remember the victory of the Dales.

The elves were murderous and wild, for the Maker's grace did not touch them. The wildest of them was the she-elf Lindiranae, wielder of the great blade Evanura. Defiant to the last, she met Ser Brandis, the Silver Helm, in single combat, and he bested her. With Lindiranae fell the Dales.

_Triumph of the Light_

Remember the triumph over the profane.

Sister Amity led the march to the river Tenasir, where stood shrines to the elven gods. These she struck down; standing upon the banks, she sang the Chant of Light. Andraste's Word had come to the Dales, and delivered them from wickedness.

Rajmael recited each word with hate and disgust rising in his voice, and his companions feel the anger radiating from him.

Rajmael cursed hatefully. He furiously drew his sword and cut down the lying marker in three masterful strokes. Then he charged two balls of spirit energy that hummed in his hands and blasted the two sentinel statues that dared to overlook this lie.

"_What are you doing?!"_ Cassandra asked with shock and surprise.

"_These are national land marks to the Orlesian Empire."_ Vivienne scolded.

"_The Champions kind and fair? Ser Brandis killing Lindrinae in single combat?! Bullshit!"_ Rajmael spat. _"Lindrinae was offered a challenge for single combat by Brandis, and she accepted to give her men time to fall back. But when she approached the field, Brandis' archers shot her down, and Brandis stole her sword like a thief and a coward! I will not tolerate these lies that slander my people!"_

"_People never get a say in how history is written in war they lost."_ Blackwall commented sympathetically.

"_Human history often paints their own tyranny as salvation, while forgetting those they destroyed."_ Solas stated.

"_This land remembers the blood that was spilt here. It remembers the Promise that was broken."_ Cole whispered forlornly.

"_You see, this is why you can't trust human history to tell the truth."_ Iron Bull commented.

"_You elfy-types can't get over that 'Lost Glory' crap can you?"_ Sera sighed in annoyance.

A vein started pounding in Rajmael's forehead. How dare she_?! "And who the fuck are you to judge us, Sera?! All you do is run around stealing and playing, but you've never done anything that actually helps anyone. I thought that shit you pulled in Verchiel proved that, or did you forget that, too?""_

"_Right, fine. Be a shit."_ Sera grumbled.

"_Watch it, Sera."_ Rajmal warned with his hand touching his sword. _"I only have so much patience."_

"_Rajmael, please!"_ Cassandra finally voiced_. "We are here for a reason. The Plains are dangerous and we cannot afford to be distracted."_

Rajmael grunted in anger and relented. And it was a good thing that Cassandra reminded him of their mission, because just a little further down the way, they were ambushed by the Freeman of the Dales.

"_The Dales belong to the Freeman now!"_ The deserter cried.

"_No crown! No nobles! No Inquisition!"_

"_We will take the Dales for ourselves!"_

Rajmael was NOT in the mood for anymore Orlesian shemlen bullshit. There were six of them armed with Orlesian styled armor tower shields, finely crafted maces, and bows. These men were conscripts at worst, common foot soldiers at best. And Rajmael needed to blow off some steam, this would not take long.

Rajmael had learned his lesson of Rift Magic from Solas well. He threw a Spirit Fist at the Freeman carrying a large tower shield and launched him into the air, and he landed on pointy, broken tree stump that ripped through his armor. The three archers launched their arrows at the Inquisitor. Rajmael timed his next move perfectly; he performed a flawless flourish that struck all the arrows in mid-air, and sent them flying back at the archer, where they landed into their heads, hearts, and eyes respectively.

The fourth one, a large man wielding an axe, came at the Inquisitor with and a well-practiced and powerful overhead strike. Rajmael quickly side-stepped out of the way of the axe, and in one deft stroke, sliced off both the man's hands. The now handless Freeman dropped to his knees, screaming his head off as he looked at the two new stumps on his wrists that spurting ropes of blood. Rajmael quickly silenced him with a horizontal stroke to the head that separated his upper head from his lower jaw.

After seeing his fellow "Freedom fighters" die so quickly, the last one remaining tried to do the smart thing by dropping his weapons and running as fast as he could. But Rajmael wasn't in the mood for survivors. He threw a claw of spirit energy at the running Freeman, and caught him before he could get away. Rajmael lifted the man in the air and held his sword out in front of him, pointing it right at the deserter as he slowly pulled him towards the tip of the sword.

"_No! NO-OO! Sweet Maker! Mercy!"_ The man cried as he struggled in vain against the powerful grip of the ethereal claw that slowly brought him closer and closer to the Inquisitor's outstretched sword. The blade lit up with veilfire, and, ever so slowly, pierced through the man's armor and into his flesh. The Freeman screamed in horrible agony as his body was painfully impaled on the sylvanwood sword. His screams soon became loud gurgles as his own blood began spurting on his mouth. Rajmael stopped pulling him when the tip of the Vir Enasalin was sticking out of the man's back. The Freeman kicked and twitched a few times like a fish on a hook, and finally died. Rajmael effortlessly flung him away like a piece of trash, and flicked the shem's blood off his sword.

With these Freeman dead, Rajmael felt a little bit better. He suddenly felt a strange tingle up his spine. That distinct notion that they were being watched. Rajmael looked over towards the nearby tree line and waved to it.

"_Andaran atish'an, brother!"_ Rajmael called out the trees. _"There is no need to hide, we mean no harm."_

Cassandra was surprised to see two elves, Dalish judging from their tattoos, suddenly emerged from the trees like specters. How long had they been watching?

"_Anadaran ati'shan, brother."_ One of the hunters greeted politely.

"_You must be from the Inquisition. Which would you the Inquisitor!"_ The other hunter observed enthusiastically. _"My name is Loranil, and this is Olafin, our clan is camped near the river to the east. We've heard so much about you!"_

"_For the shemlen to have raised one of our own so high, many of the clans believe you're the sign of change that we've been waiting for." _Loranil answered. _"But…some, like Keeper Hawen, think that, perhaps, you've forgotten our people to embrace the Chantry."_

That last bit of information really stung Rajmael, but it didn't surprise him. Sometimes he thought that as well. _"Can you guide us to your camp, Loranil? Perhaps your Keeper can aid us in our mission."_

"_I'd be proud to assist you."_ Loranil smiled.

"_My dear Inquisitor, do you honestly now is the time for warm reunions with your people?"_ Vivienne asked almost scoldingly. _"We are here for a reason."_

"_I realize long term thought outside your comfort zone is difficult, Vivienne. So try to keep up."_ Rajmael said patronizingly. _"My people know more about the land then your kind could ever wish to. If the dead are rising, then more likely than not, the Dalish will know more about it, and how to deal with it, than a stuck up know-it-all Enchanter, whose never spent a day out in the real world."_

Varric, Iron Bull and Cole all took several steps away from Vivienne. They could all feel the anger building up inside her, and they didn't want to be in her way if she finally boiled over. Vivienne had never been spoken to in such a manner. Especially by an elf. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her acting on his uncouth, and unsophisticated behavior. Vivienne, and the Inquisition, still had some use for Rajmael.

**~XoXoXo~**

The Dalish clan was settled next to the Evanuris River bank in a rocky grotto. The aravels were settled around the grotto being tended to by several clan members, and the halla were herded around the campsite, grazing along the bank. Rajmael was a little nervous. The Dalish are not always the most welcoming of people, especially here in the Dales, where they had a particular reputation, one that was not unearned. And some people in his company weren't exactly famous for their subtle, and open-minded approach to foreign concepts.

"_Solas, Cassandra, and Varric, you three will accompany me into the camp."_ Rajmael ordered. _"The rest of you will stay out here, with your mouths shut, and do your best not to be assholes. Especially you, Sera."_

"_Hey!"_ Sera protested.

"_And Dorian. I know I'm asking a lot, but try not to make yourself noticeable to The People. Amongst the Dalish, killing a Tevinter Mage is something of a life goal. And you being…you, they'd take their time with it."_

"_I'll just stay in the back then."_ Dorian promised.

"_Are you expecting trouble?"_ Blackwall asked.

"_Standard Dalish procedure when dealing with outsiders: for every one elf you see in the camp, there are four more you don't see, and they're pointing arrows at you."_

Iron Bull's one eye started looking around for the potential aggressors, while Vivienne got that agitated look on her face, and Cole just stood there like nothing was wrong.

"_Don't bother trying to find them."_ Rajmael informed. _"The Dalish are born in camouflage."_

Loranil led Rajmael and his three companions to Keeper Hawen. The Keeper was a man who was getting on his years. Grey had completely settled in his knotted hair, his face was worn from years of living in the wild, and the vallaslin he carried to honor Andruil showed signs of fading. Rajmael noticed the look of disaprovement behind the Keeper's weary eyes.

Something seemed wrong. Rajmael could feel the sorrow in the air. The Craftsmen, Halla Tender, and a few hunters were performing their duties, but where was everyone else? He saw other adults around the campsite but only a handful of youths, and no children.

"_Andaran atish'an, harehn."_ Rajmael greeted respectfully.

"_Aneth ara, da'len."_ Keeper Hawen welcomed politely. _"It is always good to meet another of the People. You must be the one they call the Herald of Andraste."_

"_Keeper Hawen, you should have seen him!"_ Loranil bursted in_. "He is Dirth'ena Enasalin! An Arcane Warrior! Olafin and I watched him destroy those Chantry Statues that commemorate the Exalted March, and then cut down a whole squad of the shems who call themselves the Freeman of the Dales! All with a sylvanwood sword!"_

"_Dirth'ena Enasalin? That is most impressive."_ The Keeper commented.

"_Keeper, what difficulties is your clan facing?"_ Rajmael asked concernedly_. "This cannot be your whole clan. Where are your children?"_

"_Oh, where do I start, da'len."_ Keeper Hawen sighed. _"The War of the Lions has completely halted our movement, their war machines cause rockslides that block the paths and harm our aravels. My First, Taven, takes a group of our youths on a foolhardy quest to Dinan'Hanin to recover a lost piece of history, despite the danger. And now demons walk Var Bellanaris, the sacred resting place of our dead. I had to send most of our clan away for fear of their safety."_

"_I remember Taven. He and I spoke briefly at the last Arlathvhen. He was quite eager to rediscover lost lore, as I recall."_ Rajmael remembered.

"_Yes, I know."_ Keeper Hawen sighed. _"I suppose I should be proud that he is so eager to help our people, but I don't want to lose him and the others to find it. He has taken members of our Clan to Dinan'hanin, the former Headquarters of the Emerald Knights to try and find a piece of our history untouched by the Chantry. But the way there is sealed, and those halls are riddled with traps. I fear for their safety."_

Shemlen monarchs, no matter their nationality, hardly ever cared about how their wars affected others. And the elves of the world have always been victims of their ignorance. Rajmael could not ignore the plight of his fellow Dalish. Not if he could help them.

"_Keeper Hawen, please, allow me to assist you in laying the spirits of Var Ballanaris to rest."_ Rajmael pleaded.

"_That is a dangerous request, and I cannot in good conscience ask you to do that, da'len. But if you choose aid us, then may Mythal bless you."_ Keeper Hawen consented. _"But be careful. Var Bellnaris is sacred ground."_

As Rajmael turned to leave, he was approached by a young elven lass in her late teens. She had brown hair, and hadn't received her vallaslin yet. She must not have undergone her initiation yet.

"_Wait, Inquisitor!" _the young lady pleaded. _"My name is Emalien, I heard that you're going to exorcise Var Bellanaris. Perhaps you can also help me?"_

"_Help you with what, da'len?"_

"_My brother!"_ Emalien answered agitatedly. _"Valorin was passed over a First to Keeper Hawen in favor of Taven. He thinks it's a slight, but he's wrong. Valorin was just not ready."_

"_Ah. The impetuousness of youth." _Solas commented. _"Too often it can lead to danger."_

"_What happened to your brother?"_ Rajmael asked.

"_He ran off a few nights ago, chasing after some wild theories about Lindrinae's sword, Evanura."_ Emalien explained. _"He thinks finding it will earn him Keeper Hawen's respect, but we just want him to come home. With these demons and Freeman of the Dales walking around, I worry for his safety. Please, lethallan, bring him home."_

Rajmael knew the loss she was feeling more than most. He knew what it was like to lose a brother to impulsiveness and outside ignorance. _"I will…try to find your brother, Emalien."_

"_Creators bless you!" _Emalien thanked.

**~XoXoXo~**

Var Bellanaris, "Our Eternity" in elvhen, was an ancient burial ground for the elves back when they ruled Halamshiral. To the Dalish it was one of their most sacred sites. Rituals to Falon'Din were conducted on those grounds to lay the dead to rest and guide their spirits to the Creators. Even after the Exalted March on The Dales, the humans and their Chantry left those grounds alone for fear of them being cursed.

The ancient graveyard was pressed into the forest of the Exalted Plains near the banks of the Evanuris River. As they made their way to it, Rajmael could feel the magical disturbance, the motion of spirits coming from that holy place.

"_If we are going to exorcise this place of demons, would it not be prudent to fetch a priest?"_ Cassandra suggested_. "Aside from slaying them, I don't know any other means of dispatching demons."_

"_I second that motion."_ Vivienne agreed. _"We are hardly equipped to vanquish these demons without tearing apart these elves' graveyard."_

"_Hm. That actually does sound like a good idea, Boss."_ Iron Bull voiced in_. "I'll fight whoever you point men at, but I actually prefer to avoid demons."_

"_The spirits there have been disturbed, and now they're mad. Someone made them very angry."_ Cole drifted.

Rajmael groaned agitatedly_. "And do you all really think that a Chantry Mother has any business being in Var Bellanaris? Do you really think the blessing of the Maker or Andraste mean anything to the spirits of elves who were dedicated to the worship of the Creators? And maybe you've forgotten, but I am, in fact, a priest! Trust me, I can handle it! And I don't need another god's interference, especially on elven holy ground!"_

Everyone quickly kept their mouths shut. Cassandra especially felt contrite. Even after witnessing him destroy those Chantry markers, she had completely forgotten that Rajmael was devoted to his own gods, and was a priest to them. After spending dedicating her whole life to the Maker, understanding people with different faiths and cultures was difficult. And while she loved Rajmael dearly, one of the things she feared is that she would never understand him.

**~XoXoXo~**

They reached the outskirts of Var Bellanaris, and all the mages in the party could feel the demonic energy coming from that place. But that wasn't the only thing wrong. There were Freeman fighting the demons back into the graveyard and held their ground right at the threshold of the entrance. The Freeman were too busy to notice Rajmael and the others watching them behind some nearby trees and boulders. What were the Freeman doing here?

"_This is madness!"_ One of the Freeman officers screamed as his men formed a defensive phalanx at the entrance_. "What are we even doing on this cursed elven ground, Gordian?!"_

Another man dressed in Orlesian styled clothing and mask approached the threshold. Judging from the staff he carried and the tome strapped to his hip, the man was a spellbinder_. "You Freemen want the Dales for yourselves, and my Lord Corypheus will give you the Dales. But only after you've upheld your end of the bargain, Captain." _

"_What could your Elder One possibly want with cursed elven artifacts?" _The Captain questioned.

"_Whatever the conditions of or arrangement are, they're between my Lord Corypheus and your General Maliphant."_ Gordian reminded. _"Our job is to carry out their arrangement."_

"_Fine! Let's just get this over with!"_ The captain barked. _"Bring the knife-ear over here!"_

Several of the Freeman dragged a young elven boy in chains He was Dalish judging from his facial tattoos, but far too young to have had them long. The young man struggled every step of the way, cursing at his captors in elven. The Freemen kicked him to his knees and pressed a dagger to his throat.

Gordian knelt down to face the elf. _"Tell me, knife-ear, how to open the doors to Var Bellanaris, and I promise to let you go. If you do not, I will slay you right now."_

The elf hocked in his throat and spat the eye-hole in Gordian's fancy mask. _"Go eat a dead dog's balls, you shemlen filth! Unlike you, I'll never betray my people!"_

Gordian wiped the spittle from his mask, then emotionlessly plunged a dagger into the young elf's chest.

"_NO!"_ Rajmael screamed, revealing his presence to their enemies.

"_It's the Inquisition! Kill them!"_ Gordian screamed.

Rajmael's eyes burned with power and his Shimmering Shield lit up like a torch as he charged the Freeman, his sylvanwood sword blazing with white-hot veilfire. The Freeman fired crossbow bolts, but The Inquisitor dodged them with impossible speed. From ten paces away Rajmael swung the Enasalin in a horizontal strike and sent an arc of white spirit energy at the crossbowmen, decapitating them like dandelion heads.

Two more Freeman advanced on the Inquisitor with their swords in hand. One went in on the left, the other charged from the right. Rajmael simultaneously parried both swordsman, shattering their blades like glass, then slashing them across the midsection, spilling their entrails all over the ground.

The Captain came at Rajmael with an impressive sword of fine make. He must have been a Chevalier, judging from his form. The two of them exchanged a quick series of strikes and parries, then Rajmael brought his sword down upon the Freeman Commander with all his might. The Freeman held up his blade to block the blow, but Rajmael's sword broke right through the Orlesian steel blade, and cut the Commander from crown to crotch. The two perfectly dissected halves of the Captain's being fell apart and spilt the contents of his body all over the place.

All that was left was Gordian. The Venatori liaison tried to conjure a spell with his staff, but Rajmael used a force pull to rip it from the Spellbinder's grip, and smashed it on to the ground, breaking it like a twig.

"_You think this a victory, Inquisitor?" _Gordian asked spitefully. _"Nothing is safe from the Elder One's…ghakh!"_ The mage had no chance to finish his rant when Rajmael grabbed him by his throat and squeezed it in a vice like grip.

In silent rage, Rajmael dragged the struggling Venatori towards the entrance to Var Bellanaris, crushing his throat every step of the way.

"_What are you doing?!"_ Gordian choked.

"_You wanted to get into Var Bellanaris? Let me be the first to welcome you to my ancestors."_ Rajmael answered coldly.

Gordian's eyes went wide with panic and terror when he realized what the Inquisitor was doing, but was helpless in the angry elf's strong grip. Rajmael effortlessly threw the Venatori agent into the graveyard. The enraged demonic spirits quickly descended upon the screaming mage, tearing his flesh and ripping his limbs. Gordian's screams did not cease until the enraged spirits of the elven dead finally ripped his head off.

Rajmael went over to the dying elf's side and tried to heal him, but he was slipping and both elves knew it. He had lost too much blood, and the wound was to grievous to heal properly.

"_Y-you're the Inquisitor. M-my…name is Valorin. I'm from the Dalish Clan to the west." _Valorin gasped.

"_I know. Your sister Emalien sent me to find you."_ Rajmael answered.

"_I…should have listened to her…But I found it. In the same place I found Lindrinae's amulet…and clues as to where her sword is. Please find it."_ Valorin begged.

Lindrinae's sword still existed? If that was true it could be a great victory for the Dalish. An important piece of their history that wasn't stolen by human hands. This could not be ignored.

Valorin's life was slipping from him. Painful, bloody coughs racked his body as tears ran from his eyes. _"In…Inquisitor, please. Var Bellanaris, these humans desecrated the dead. You…c-cannot leave our hallowed grounds like this. And please…tell my sister I tried. I…tried so…."_ Valorin's voice trailed off his last breath left his body.

Rajmael closed his fellow Dalish's eyes. Valorin went on a vain quest for personal glory only for it to claim his life. But he chose to die rather than betray their people, and at the core of it all, Valorin still only wanted to prove his worth to his people. And that was something every elf should strive for.

Before Rajmael did anything else, he had to put the spirits of his ancestors back to rest. The Inquisitor approached the threshold of this sacred ground. Ready to perform his duty.

"_Everyone. Wait here."_ Rajmael ordered.

"_Wait!"_ Cassandra called. _"Are you sure you know what you're doing? We should go with you."_

"_Yeah, after seeing what those demons did to that Venatori asshole, I don't think you should be going in there alone."_ Iron Bull stated.

"_I know I'm not going in there!"_ Sera shouted_. "That elfy demon shit's too friggin' out there!"_

"_I agree. Approaching such creatures in their own dwelling is foolishness."_ Vivienne concurred.

"_I believe our Inquisitor knows what he is doing."_ Solas informed.

"_Maybe we should let the elven experts handle this?"_ Blackwall suggested.

Cole looked at his fellow spirits with pity on his face. _"He knows the words passed down from parent to child. He knows they will suffice."_

"_I could go with you."_ Dorian suggested_. "I am trained in the ways of the Necromancer after all."_

"_I don't know the rest of you, but I'm not eager to jump in there with the pissed off elven spirits."_ Varric stated nervously. _"Maybe let our fearless leader tackle this one?"_

"_How about everyone shuts up and watch?"_ Rajmael suggested as he crossed the threshold_. "Witness the power of elven faith."_

Rajmael walked in the midst of the elven burial mounds towards the center of the graveyard. The demons emerged from the shadows of the trees, walls and even the graves to meet this newest trespasser on their ground. The demons gathered around the Arcane Warrior, hissing and whispering in an ancient elven tongue, and clawing at him. But Rajmael continued as though they weren't even there. The Inquisitor planted his sword into the ground and bent on one knee in reverence.

_Hahren'en melana sahlin.  
Emma ir abelas.  
Souver'inan isala hamin.  
Vhenan him dor'felas.  
In uthenera na revas._

_Vir sulahn'nehn_  
_Vir dirthera_  
_Vir samahl la numin_  
_Vir lath sa'vunin_

The demons circled around the Inquisitor, and his companions watched in amazement as the spirits' nightmarish appearances melted away to reveal their true form. Beings of made of emerald light and ethereal beauty stood before Rajmael with an aura of peace surrounding them. Rajmael stood before the spirits of his ancestors, and bowed in reverence. And in a moment of utter tranquility, the spirits of the departed disappeared like dust in the wind.

"_Falon'din enansal."_ Rajmael whispered before turning back to his companions.

"_That…that was amazing."_ Dorian applauded.

"_Even in my most outlandish books, I couldn't have made that up."_ Varric laughed. _"That's definitely going into my next novel."_

"_Never in all the time I've been with the Seekers had I ever seen such a thing."_ Cassandra marveled at a complete loss for words.

"_They were angry, their rest was disturbed. But he knew what to say. His words reminded them of peace."_ Cole smiled.

"_His actions do the elves proud." _Solas appraised.

Before turning to leave, Rajmael reached into one of his pockets and pulled out several small seeds that bloomed into beautiful blue flowers when he powered his magic into them. He dropped the newly bloomed bouquet on to the ground, then grabbed his dagger and purposely cut his hand with it. He clenched his cut hand into a fist and let his blood fall on to the flowers. With his offering complete, Rajmael bowed and left the sacred graveyard.

**~XoXoXo~**

His task for his fellow Dalish was complete, but he felt no sense of accomplishment because of the loss of Valorin. Rajmael returned Valorin's body to his clan with a heavy heart. Emalien and the others wept tears of bitter loss of their brother.

"_Your brother's life was not in vain, Emalien."_ Rajmael consoled as he bequeathed Lindrinae's amulet to her.

"_Lindrinae's amulet? We thought this was lost along with her sword during the Exalted March."_ Emalien looked at the amulet with a mix of pride and sorrow. _"Thank you for bringing this and my brother back to my clan."_

Rajmael went over to Keeper Hawen who sorrowfully thanked him for his service. _"Keeper Hawen, Valorin believed he found clues to Evanura's final resting place. Somewhere in the Emerald Graves. I intend to find it for our people."_

The Keeper's eyes went wide with surprise. _"Such a discovery would mean a great deal to the clans. If you are headed to the Emerald Graves, then please see if you can find Taven and the others. If these Freeman are truly after elven artifacts, then I fear for their safety."_

"_I will do what I can for our people."_ Rajmael swore.

**The Emerald Graves…**

The Emerald Graves was a place of infinite beauty. Trees taller than buildings were everywhere, their canopies blocked the sun and shined emerald light down on everything on the forest floor. There was a tranquility here that none of them had ever experienced before, but some experienced it more pleasantly than others. Sera, for example couldn't stop sneezing, and Dorian was a city-boy through and through.

"_Wow. So these are the Dales, huh?"_ Varric marveled._ "Daisy would have loved this place."_

"_Why? The only thing here is trees, things that want to piss on trees, and things that want to eat people." _Dorian complained.

Sera sneezed so loud it echoed through the whole wood_. "These trees are stupid! And people who like living with trees are more stupid!"_

"_It's not that bad."_ Blackwall stated. _"I used to camp in woods like these. I think it's the quiet I like the most. I'd rather be camping instead of killing."_

"_Forests aren't really my thing. Too many places for enemies to hide. Too many place for arrows to fly by and stick you." _Iron Bull muttered.

"_It's a decent spot for a vacation retreat I suppose. But still too far from proper civilization for my taste."_ Vivienne commented.

"_Even after everything that has happened, these forests are still beautiful."_ Cassandra observed in awe.

Rajmael destroyed another statue of Andraste that was erected of the Exalted March, and spat on crumbled gravel that was left behind.

"_Must you keep doing that?"_ Cassandra asked in annoyance.

Rajmael shot an angry glance back at Cassandra. _"You're so quick to compliment he beauty of this place, but you're also quick to forget how much blood was spilt on these grounds. Blood that the Chantry spilt."_

"_The trees remember. They remember when the elves walked free here, and they remember when the elves died here. They miss the elves."_ Cole said sadly.

Vivienne rubbed the bridge of her nose in annoyance_. "My dear, I understand that this place holds bitter memories, but do you really think bringing up old wounds does anyone any good?"_

A look of anger twisted on Rajmael's face. _"It's the Chantry that drags up the old wounds! Every tree in this forest was planted for every knight, warrior and freedom fighter that died fighting for the Dales' independence. But the Chantry erected these…these…insults in this sacred place! To rub salt in our wounds! I will not tolerate it!"_ Rajmael drew his sword and stabbed at the air and sent of a projectile of white energy towards another Andrastian statue and blew it to pieces. _"And if you think this place in one purely of beauty and serenity, then you're sorely mistaken. Look up there."_

Rajmael pointed towards the treetops. Everyone had to squint their eyes to see what he was pointing at, but they found it. Along the topmost branches of the trees were the mummified corpses of men long dead. Their skin was like dried out hides left in the rain and sun for too long and they were strung up by the very vines of the trees that refused to let their victims go.

"_My ancestors hung those men from the trees when they marched through here with the intent to enslave us. The honored dead of the Dales rest here, and those trespassers will not taint these hallowed grounds. They will forever no peace, just as my people will never know peace."_ Rajmael informed bitterly.

"_Will you never be able to forgive what happened in the past?"_ Cassandra asked earnestly.

"_When the Chantry makes up for everything it's done to my people, and returned everything it stole from us."_ Rajmael answered without looking back.

Once again a feeling of guilt stirred inside Cassandra. She had hoped that being here aiding Rajmael in his personal mission to aid his people would being him a little peace in these troubled times. Instead, all he seemed to feel was anger at seeing everything his people had lost. And after seeing so much beauty and wonder that was taken from the elves, Cassandra couldn't help but feel that his anger was justified.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael looked at the notes that Valorin had compiled in his search for the sword, Evanura, the sword that Lindrinae used in her final stand against the Chantry. The Sword stolen from them by human hands. Most of Valorin's notes and research was taken from clues that he found in the village of Ville Montevelan, the village where that cunt, Reverend Mother Amity, who erected these wretched Chantry statues and led the humans to destroy the Dales all in the name of the Chantry, had ministered after the Exalted March. Amongst the clues, and perhaps the most important one, was a song detailing the final acts of a knight, called "The Knights of Silver and Emerald."

_Bright silver were his helm and chain,_  
_Bright silver on his horse's rein;_  
_He rode upon the golden plain,_  
_The brave and comely knight._

_The elves stood fast, their banners high._  
_They would not flee, they would not fly,_  
_Though knowing they would surely die,_  
_The last of Dalish might._

_He met them on the golden field,_  
_The fate of elvenkind now sealed,_  
_In mercy, urged them all to yield,_  
_He sorrowed for their plight._

_But prideful were the Dalish kin,_  
_Their vengeful hearts could not give in,_  
_With raging cry and dreadful grin,_  
_They struck against the Light._

_Beneath the red and fading sun,_  
_The elven stand was swift undone,_  
_'Til they were vanquished, all but one:_  
_Defiant in her fight._

_Her brothers on the field lay slain,_  
_He would not see her die in vain,_  
_In grief, cried "Yield!" to her again,_  
_That good and gentle knight._

_He could not strike; his shield dropped low,_  
_She lifted sword against her foe,_  
_They did not see the far-off bow,_  
_Its arrow loosed in flight._

_A sharpened thorn, a searing brand,_  
_A shot the elf could not withstand;_  
_The sword fell lifeless from her hand,_  
_With drops of crimson bright._

_He said no word, he made no sound,_  
_But caught her, falling to the ground._  
_Her dark hair flowing, all unbound:_  
_A veil as black as night._

_And up around him came the call,_  
_That celebrated Dalish fall,_  
_The cry of vic'try came from all,_  
_Except the silver knight._

_The glimmer of his helm and chain,_  
_Now dull with dark and bloody stain._  
_He looked and saw upon the plain,_  
_The dying elven light._

_Elf sword in hand, heart filled with woe,_  
_No one would ever see him go,_  
_But with a solemn prayer, spoke low,_  
_He vanished into night._

_They say he rode on easterly,_  
_The sword he placed beneath a tree._  
_And there remained, on bended knee,_  
_That grave and mournful knight_

The knight in question must have been Ser Brandis, the knight who challenged Lindrinae, and whose archers dishonorably killed Lindrinae. If the song was to be believed, the Silver Knight was wracked with guilt and took the sword back to the Emerald Knight's grave. Hard to believe. Not only because Rajmael ardently believed Chevalier honor to be non-existent, but because even after the Dales was lost to the elves, they still hid in the forests, and slew any shemlen that tried trespassing amongst the sacred dead. But if any of it was true, then there was only one place the sword could be: The Vallasdahlen.

**~XoXoXo~**

The Vallasdahlen was on of the most sacred places to both the Dalish and the City Elves. Here, the last of the Emerald Knight, the heroes who refused to back down before the Chantry's tyranny and held one last stand to give the Dalish Clans time to escape. Rather than letting the Chantry desecrate their bodies, the Dalish took them back and buried them here with a vhenadhal tree to watch overlooking their graves. And soon those trees grew tall and mighty, a testament to the strength of spirit that these warriors held. Dinan'hanin was nearby, perhaps Rajmael would find Taven and his party as well.

Rajmael looked upon the mighty trees with mixed sorrow and pride as he cleaned each shrine of the leaves and forest debris that had collected. He stood before Lindrinae's memorial with utmost respect. He searched around the tree in hopes of finding any clue that might tell him where the Evanura sword may be, he would not disturb her grave unless he had good cause to.

Then he found something that had no business being there: a round, flat, polished stone made of volcanic aurum. It was definitely hand-carved and when Rajmael pulled it out of the ground he discovered an ancient but definitely Orlesian styled heraldry on one side, depicting a charging horse over two crossing sword and surrounded by a laurel wreath.

Rajmael dug at the earth that was under the volcanic aurum emblem. He grabbed the dirt in huge chunks, then began clawing when he realized how soft the earth here was. He punched the ground and blew all the earth away and discovered his prize. An ancient metal chest, turned brown after centuries of resting. Rajmael ripped the lock of the chest and tore it open like his life depended on it. And what he found inside brought tears to his eyes.

With shaky hands, Rajmael reached into the chest and revealed the legendary blade Evanura. Even after almost a thousand years of being hidden beneath the earth, it still shined like polished silver. One the ricasso of the blade was stamped the insignia of June, God of the Craft, in whose temple this blade was forged. This sword was created to defend the Dalish Kingdom, and that's exactly what Lindrinae used it for in her last stand against the Chantry. This was the sword for which Rajmael's first love was named, Evanura.

"_So it is true."_ Cassandra stated as Rajmael held the sword to himself_. "Ser Brandis was so wracked with guilt over what happened to Lindrinae that he returned to sword to her grave when the war was over."_

"_Indeed. I don't think anyone is capable of bearing the fact that they were responsible for destroying a whole people."_ Solas added.

"_I thought it would be shinier."_ Sera commented disinterestedly.

"_And here I thought Chevalier honor was just a fairy tale." _Rajmael said as he wiped the tears from his eyes and sheathed the sword. _"I guess Ser Brandis was the odd one out."_ Rajmael looked over into the distance, he was not finished here yet. _"Dinan'hanin isn't far away. Perhaps we can find Taven, and have him present this to Keeper Hawen."_

"_After you put in the effort to find this lost treasure, you would so willingly give it away?"_ Solas asked curiously.

"_Indeed. It seems like such a waste to just give it away such a priceless treasure after spending all the effort to find it."_ Vivienne commented.

"_This sword was never mine to possess. It belongs to the People, and it must be returned to the People."_ Rajmael's answer earned an approving nod from Solas.

**~XoXoXo~**

Dinan'Hanin was the headquarters and training grounds of the Emerald Knights. After the fall of the Dales, the Dalish sealed the ancient keep off to keep the humans from desecrating it. Here the Emerald Knights kept records of their deeds and history. Perhaps there could be something new, something forgotten. A piece of history untouched by the Chantry's propaganda.

As they approached the ancient fortress, Rajmael saw aravels, elven land-ships, and eagerly ran towards his fellows. But his eagerness was turned into dread when he found, not his fellow Dalish, but a killing field with his brethren strewed across the entrance of Dina'Hanin.

Rajmael saw Taven amongst the bodies and tried to shake him awake_. "Taven! Taven!"_

"_What in Andraste's name happened here?" _Blackwall asked as he looked upon the carnage.

Cassandra looked around and was appalled_. "Most of these elves were unarmed. They stood no chance."_

"_What kind of asshole goes through the trouble to kill defenseless elves?"_ Iron Bull questioned.

"_The kind that probably didn't want them in the way."_ Dorian answered_. "Hmm. Strange. Some of these bodies are burnt, but I see no sign of fire anywhere."_

Cole held the hand of a slain elven woman. _"They came out of nowhere. Fast, powerful, vicious. They had no weapons. Their deaths were quick."_

"_Well, shit."_ Was all Varric could say.

"_Elves tried to be elfy, and it got them killed. Phht! Typical."_ Sera scorned.

That thing inside Rajmael suddenly woke up, and screamed at hit to cut Sera's tongue out of her head. But he chose not to listen. He turned towards the Red Jenny thief with a furious look on his face. "Sera! I want you to stay out here, and guard these bodies while the rest of us investigate what happened."

"_What? Why me?"_ Sera questioned.

"_I could say that it's because I want you to cover us, but the real truth is, I don't want you polluting these sacred halls with your stink!"_ Rajmael snarled. _"You aren't worthy of being in the presence of the Emerald Knights! And if you say another word, I'll have you kicked out so fast the whiplash will snap your neck!"_

Sera gave the Inquisitor a nasty look, but Rajmael's was even nastier. With everyone looking at her like she was being a shit, Sera relented_. "Fine."_ She grumbled in defeat.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael and his party, minus Sera, entered in Dinan'Hanin, and even after eight centuries of being sealed off, these halls were still magnificent to behold. Proud statues of armored elven knights standing alongside their faithful wolves stood vigil over this keep that was their home.

"_Daisy used to tell me about the Emerald Knights."_ Varric chuckled. _"Said they were fearsome men, with pointy swords, and fierce eyes. When I asked her if she knew anything else, she said, 'They also had angry dogs.'"_

"_These knights look impressive."_ Cassandra complimented_. "I wonder what their training was like."_

"_The great elven general, Thane Shartan, was Andraste's personal champion."_ Dorian stated. _"I suppose these men had a lot to live up to."_

"_Such a thing is heresy to speak of, Dorian."_ Vivienne reminded.

"_The Dalish and City Elves remember the Emerald Knights as great heroes, while the Chantry called them ruthless butchers. I suppose both sides have an element of truth."_ Solas commented.

"_This place is filled with their strength. Their desire to protect their homeland and the People. We shall fight to the end, they swore."_ Cole spoke as he stared at one of the statues as though it were alive.

"_Kinda creepy how those statues' eyes follow us as we walk."_ Bull stated.

They walked into the main hall and what they found there made that thing inside Rajmael, and everyone else, wake up with a vengeance. Red Templars. They walked around with disrespect, tearing down walls as though they were searching for something.

Rajmael's eyes burned with power and silent rage as he held Enasalin in one hand, and Evanura in the other. The only thing these bastards would find in Dinan'hanin would be their own deaths. Rajmael descended down upon the corrupt knights, both swords in hand, and within moments the once silent fortress was filled with horrid screams of the Red Templars, and blood would paint the walls.

**A Short Time Later….**

The bodies of all the Red Templars laid strewn within every hall they dared to trespass into. The skulls severed from their necks, their bodies cut open with their entrails splattered on the floor, and their limbs ripped from their beings. It had been eight hundred since Evanura had tasted shemlen blood, these Red Templars made an adequate meal.

Rajmael stood within the crypt of Dinan'Hanin where the Emerald Knights of old were laid to rest. And it was here that Rajmael found the truth that Taven had been searching for. The real truth behind the Exalted March on the Dales. And the cause of it all was the most bitter of all reason that can apparently destroy nations: love.

Amidst the growing hostility between the elves and the humans, an Emerald Knight, by the name of Elandrin, had fallen in love with a girl from the town of Red Crossing, and she with him. The other elves, having just lost one of their own to the humans for straying too close to their borders, misconstrued the nature of their relationship as being the result of temptation and viewing Elandrin as a dangerous security threat, and a heinous betrayal to both their people and their gods, sought to bring him back. So one night, a group of elves, led by Elandrin's fellow knight, Siona, proceeded towards the town with the intent to convince Elandrin of this foolishness, or bring him in for betraying them. It was then that one of the Emerald Knights spotted Elandrin's lover running towards them, and the Knight, mistaking her as hostile, slew her with an arrow. The townsfolk heard the girl's cry and advanced on the elves, but were quickly defeated. With that began the full-scale skirmish between the elves and humans.

That was it? That was what brought about the destruction of the Dales and Rajmael's people? An unfortunate love affair that turned into a violent series of unfortunate events led to the sacking of Red Crossing and prompted the Exalted March of the Dales? What a bitter potion truth was. Still, this was an important part of history, and both the humans and the elves were to blame.

"_We should give this to the Dalish."_ Solas suggested_. "They will know the true value of this knowledge."_

"_The Chantry would also be interested in this discovery."_ Vivienne pointed out. _"And they would pay a handsome finder's fee."_

"_Why?"_ Rajmael questioned_. "At best it would end up as some footnote in their history books, and at worst, it would either be destroyed, or turned into another Chantry lie. It would not be shared and cherished. And unlike the Chantry, the Dalish value the truth. I must return this to my people."_

On one side of the crypt were mosaic images of the elven gods, meant to offer prayers when honoring the dead. Rajmael knelt before the image of Dirthamen, his patron god, and held Evanura and the record of Red Crossing before it. _"Dirthamen, Keeper of Secrets, Twin Soul of Falon'Din, thank you for granting me fortune of finding these lost pieces of our history. And although this knowledge came to back to the people at great cost, I know what we gained was worth it. I ask thee, Dirthamen, for your continued favor, and grant me the knowledge to find victory over the Elder One."_

Rajmael magically grew another blue flower and laid it before the mosaic, then cut his hand and dripped his blood before it.

"_Why do you do that?"_ Cassandra asked apprehensively. The sight of Rajmael cutting himself was distressing to her, especially since he was doing it in prayer.

"_All gods demand sacrifice, Cassandra."_ Rajmael answered calmly_. "These flowers, and my own blood, are all I have to offer my gods. Even the Chantry says the Maker demands everything from his followers."_

**The Exalted Plains**

The Inquisitor made his way back to Keeper Hawen's clan, with the two treasures he found, and the bodies of Taven and his party. This was a huge loss for the clan, but a major victory for the elven people. They had lost many brothers and sisters to their quests, but their lives were not in vain. And while Keeper Hawen's heart was broken, he was also proud of both Taven and Valorin.

"_Thank you for what you have done for my clan, and our people, Inquisitor."_ Keeper Hawen spoke. _"Reclaiming Evanura, and learning the truth of Red Crossing are both feats I would not have imagined possible."_

"_As a Dalish, I could do no less."_ Rajmael answered.

"_Your loyalty to our people is incredible, and I am sorry that I ever doubted it."_ Keeper Hawen continued. _"Please, keep the sword, and use it against this Elder One. Loranil has expressed a desire to join your Inquisition, and we would be proud to have him representing our clan in quest."_

"_And I would be honored to have him amongst our ranks."_ Rajmael promised. _"Dareth'shiral, hahren."_

Rajmael and the others decided to make their way back to Skyhold. Rajmael had accomplished a great victory for the Dalish people, but after everything he had seen, all he could feel was bitterness as anger gripped his heart. The Exalted Plains and the Emerald Graves once belonged to his people, and now they were forced live either as vagrants or vagabonds. Everywhere he looked in these lands, he saw proof of the Chantry's lies and abuses. All Rajmael could see was everything that was stolen from his people, and all he could think about was how much better the world would be if the Chantry weren't around anymore.

**Back at Skyhold**

It didn't take long for Rajmael to wish he was somewhere else right now. Five minutes after walking through the door and he already found Josephine have a fierce argument with a Chantry Mother. Thankfully, neither of them had noticed his return.

"_The matter is urgent, Lady Josephine!"_ The Priestess yelled frantically.

"_I am well aware of that, Revered Mother." _Josephine said calmly.

"_We need them to return Val Royeaux and the White Spire as soon as possible!"_ The Revered Mother continued. "_There are ceremonies, ordinations! Maker's Mercy, the list goes on!"_

"_I have already told you that his is quite impossible."_ Josephine maintained. _"However, I will see to it that the two of them are informed of this as soon as possible."_

Rajmael wasn't in the mood for any Chantry claptrap. Maybe he could sneak around them without them noticing….

"_My Lord Inquisitor!"_ The Revered Mother called.

Fuck! Rajmael thought to himself.

"_My Lord Inquisitor, please may I have a word with you?"_

"_No. Go away."_ Rajmael answered scornfully.

"_I know that you've much to do my lord. Ending the civil war and continuing your fight against the Elder One is not small matter, but this is urgent!"_

Rajmael sighed in annoyance, but relented. _"You've got five minutes."_

"_With the political turmoil put to rest, the Chantry Mothers' minds turn to one thing: our next Divine." _The Revered Mother explained. _"We cannot answer it without the Left and Right hands of Divine Justinia V. There are even those amongst us who believe that they should be forwarded as candidates."_

"_I have already told you, Revered Mother, that this is impossible."_ Josephine insisted_. "Sister Leliana and Seeker Cassandra cannot be spared from their duties. They are too vital to the function and integrity of the Inquisition."_

"_But surely with the support of the empire, the Inquisition will not be harmed with the loss of just two souls?"_ The priestess argued.

"_Spoken like a true cunt."_ Rajmael said vilely. _"You vastly underestimate their value to the Inquisition, and now, after you declared them heretics for supporting me, you decide that they're important enough to be involved with your squabbles." _

"_I realize our actions of late have not represented the Chantry as we should, but you must…."_

"_You have been told no!" _Rajmael cut off. _"The Inquisition is not here to solve the Chantry's petty problems. Now, please, do me a favor and leave."_

"_But my lord!"_

"_I said fuck off!"_ Rajmael yelled. The Revered Mother took the hint and grudgingly did as she was told.

"_I think you could've handled that a bit more gracefully, Inquisitor."_ Josephine suggested.

"_Josephine, I'm tired, I'm hungry, I just got done with some very trying matters in the Dales, and I still have a world to save. I don't have time to be holding the Chantry's hand through their own bullshit."_ Rajmael stated agitatedly.

"_I understand. But do not worry, we've stopped Corypheus' intrigues and broken his plan to weaken the most powerful empire in Thedas. Your victories against him grow stronger every day."_ Josephine assured.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael walked back into the keep, and as much as he hated doing so, thought about what that Revered Mother wanted. The Chantry calling on Leliana and Cassandra? Seeing as how the remaining Grand Clerics and Revered Mothers couldn't get their own shit together without calling down the Maker's Wrath on everything that disagreed with them, it was no wonder that they wanted those two to help them make a decision. Still, Rajmael wanted nothing to do with the Chantry. Especially if they wanted to take Cassandra from him. He already lost one woman he loved to the Chantry, he didn't want to lose another.

Rajmael went to the Rookery to meet with Leliana and get any news from the Orlesian capital that may have happened since the Winter Palace. He found her kneeling before her little shrine to Andraste and Cassandra was standing nearby. And to his displeasure Mother Giselle was talking to them both.

_Fuck!_ Was all Rajmael could think. He had one of two guesses of what they were talking about.

Leliana rose from her prayers _"So it's true. The Chantry looks to one of us as Justinia's successor. I never thought this idea would ever gain momentum."_

"_And so the Chantry decides to bandy our name around without our knowledge or consent."_ Cassandra stated seriously.

"_They must truly be desperate to want you two after declaring you both heretics for declaring the Inquisition."_ Rajmael said grimly.

"_It seems much less flattering when you say it like that." _Leliana replied.

"_Many will look to you, Inquisitor, for who should succeed the Divine."_ Mother Giselle informed.

"_Trying to guide the Chantry will be like trying to steer a sinking ship."_ Leliana added. _"Having the Inquisition's support will greatly ease with process."_

"_Only an idiot tries to board a ship that's headed for doom. I'd rather just let that boat sink, and keep paddling."_ Rajmael replied harshly.

The Inquisitor's response earned a disapproving look from all three women.

"_The Chantry did terrible things to your people, I know. I understand why you might hate it."_ Leliana said sympathetically.

Rajmael grabbed a yardstick and proceeded to poke Leliana with it in a most annoying fashion. _"How long do I need to poke you with this until you break my nose, Leliana? Maybe after you knock me on my ass, I'll call over everyone I know and beat the shit out of you. But I'll stop if you promise to give up everything that you value and promise to be my little bitch."_

Leliana understood his metaphor very clearly. She grabbed the yard stick in her hand and gave Rajmael a bitter look. _"That isn't fair, Rajmael."_

"_No it isn't! But it's what you did to us!"_ Rajmael spat angrily. _"After everything that it has done to me and my people, you're damned right I hate the fucking Chantry! The Chantry is the greatest enemy of my people!"_

"_And do you really think the Chantry's dissolution will help your people?"_ Leliana reasoned. _"Without the Chantry to guide the masses, centuries of hatred will spire out of control and lead to nothing but destruction."_

"_Bullshit!"_ Rajmael denied. _"Without the Chantry, this world can finally progress forward, instead of being held back by the Chantry's superstition and hypocrisy."_

"_Do you really think the tens of thousands of faithful across Thedas would agree with you?"_ Cassandra asked seriously. _"Yes, the Chantry needs to change. Yes, the Chantry has committed many wrongs, to elves, mages and others, but the people still need the Chantry to guide them towards righteousness."_

Rajmael crossed his arms and gave them all an angry glare _"Name me one thing the Chantry has done that outstrips the damage it has caused."_

"_I understand if you've never seen what good the Chantry has done."_ Mother Giselle finally spoke. _"Indeed, I would find it difficult for anyone who has suffered like you have to try and find the good in us, but the Chantry has done many good things to try and help the poor and desperate as best we can. I know that might not seem like much but…."_

"_Don't take me for a fool, Mother Giselle."_ Rajmael glowered. _"I've done my own research on the Chantry actually is. You provided aid to the poor, hungry and desperate when refugees from the Blight poured into Jader. And when the Chantry didn't give you aid, you used the Jader Chantry's funds to aid the poor. And when the Chantry finally provided relief effort, they wanted you to aid the High Society first, and the Alienage last. But you ignored that directive, and while your actions earned you the admiration of many, the Chantry higher-ups prevented your from attaining a higher position where you could have used your authority to more effect. How can you just ignore such hypocrisy?"_

"_The Chantry can do so much and be so much, Rajmael."_ Leliana insisted. _"Would you truly let it fade away for what it has done, instead of letting it make up for it's past?"_

"_After everything I saw in the Dales, how can I not?!"_ Rajmael answered vehemently. _"The Chantry teaches that my people are forsaken heathens, and that everything we are and believe in is evil! My people live in squalor and at the mercy of the nobility because the Chantry put them there! And you know what the one of the worst parts was?"_

"_What?" _Mother Giselle asked apprehensively.

"_After you destroyed us, struck Thane Shartan from history, and forced us to be vagrants and vagabonds, you expected us…to thank you! Because your Chantry saved us from our own heathen ignorance! That our destruction was for our own good!"_ Rajmael was so angry that his eyes were teary. "_But you never tell people about the atrocities you committed! All the rapes and murders!"_

"_What…what are talking about?"_ Mother Giselle questioned disbelievingly.

"_The only reason why the elves of Halamshiral surrendered was because those that defied the Chantry were put to the sword. Women and children were raped by your holy knights, while our priests were burned alive! And after butchering us, forcing us to live like slaves and outcasts, you expected us to thank you. Every abuse my people suffered, every elven father and son murdered, every elven woman raped, was because you allowed it! Because you vilified us!"_

A sense of shame came over all three of them, and after what Cassandra saw in the Exalted Marches and the Emerald Graves, she couldn't help but think maybe he was right. But they were still determined.

"_Divine Justinia had a dream for the Chantry, Rajmael."_ Leliana beseeched. _"One where it protected people of all races and creeds. Would you let that dream die for the sins of the past?"_

"_If the Chantry dies, then it just means there's one less thing that can threaten my daughter."_ Rajmael stated dismally as he walked away.

The three Chantry servants stood stunned. They had grown accustomed to Rajmael's sarcastic nature, but when he spoke with anger, and of suffering, they couldn't help but feel the weight of his words. Rajmael, and elves in general, had always suffered at human hands, and by forcing the elves to live amongst humans and give up their traditions, the Chantry set the standard for all the abuses they suffered.

So maybe Rajmael was right, maybe the Chantry didn't deserve his help, but that didn't mean they were going to give up on it. This was the Chantry's chance to change for the better, and only by having the right Divine to lead could they finally realize Andraste's dream.

"_I will speak with him."_ Cassandra promised. _"Perhaps he will hear me out."_

**~XoXoXo~**

Cassandra found Rajmael in his personal quarter standing over the handmade totems of his gods. He was leaning on the desk, weary and tired.

"_Rajmael, I know after what you saw, and what happened to Taven and Valorin is hurting you right now."_ Cassandra spoke softly. _"And I know that your own experience with the Chantry was terrible, but do you truly think that allowing the Chantry to fall apart will make the world better?"_

Rajmael sighed wearily. _"My personal feeling aside Cassandra, I cannot in good conscience endorse an institution devoted solely to a single faith. I have Dalish elves, dwarves of Stone, even Qunari and other religions serving in the Inquisition. If I aid the Chantry, the Inquisition will be seen as just another arm of the Chantry, and I'll be turning my back on all the other faiths that look up to us." _

"_And that is a valid concern."_ Cassandra agreed. _"And without the Chantry to guide the faithful of Andraste, they will see you as abandoning them as well. The Inquisition is for all."_

Sometimes Rajmael really hated it when Cassandra was being logical_. "I…will consider it. I can promise no more than that."_

"_And I promise you this, Rajmael: whoever is made Divine, we will undo the damage that the Chantry has done to the elves. We will no longer ignore the trespasses we've committed against your people."_ Cassandra swore wholeheartedly.

Rajmael turned towards Cassandra and cupped her face in his hands. _"And what about you? If you are named Divine, will I lose you to the Chantry as well, ma vhenan?"_

Rajmael's question plucked at Cassandra's heart. All she had ever known her whole life was duty, and never experienced the joys of true love until she met him. And far too often, was love the death of duty. But right now, she couldn't imagine anything without him in her life. _"Never. You will never lose me, Rajmael."_

Rajmael pulled Cassandra into a loving embrace. And for at least tonight, they tried to forget about the pains of the past and the uncertainty of the future. For right now, all they wanted was to bask in each other's love. Tomorrow's problems can wait.

**Language Codex:**

**Andran atishan**: Elven greeting. Translates as, _"I dwell in this place",_ or _"A place of peace."_

**Aneth ara:** Elven greeting. Translates as, _"My safe place"._

**Falon'din enansal:** Elven blessing. Translates as, _"Falon'din's blessings."_

**Hahren'na melana sahlin. **  
**Emma ir abelas. **  
**Souver'inan isala hamin.  
Vhenan him dor'felas.  
In uthenera na revas.**

**Vir sulahn'nehn**  
**Vir dirthera**  
**Vir samahl la numin**  
**Vir lath sa'vunin **

Elven Eulogy. Translates as:

_Elder your time is come_  
_Now I am filled with sorrow_  
_Weary eyes need resting_  
_Heart has become grey and slow_  
_In waking sleep is freedom_

_We sing, rejoice_  
_We tell the tales_  
_We laugh and cry_  
_We love one more day_

**Author's Note:**

**Once again, in case it needs to be said, I own and claim nothing. ****Dragon Age and all things associated with it is the property of the BioWare Gaming Company. Please stay tuned, and continue to read review and enjoy. Rajmael's suffering is only just starting.**


	17. The Way of Shadow: Part I

**The Way of Shadow: Part I**

**On The Orlesian Frontline**

It had been a few weeks since Gaspard had been executed for treason at the Winter Palace at the hands of the Inquisitor, and now the Empress' forces were overseeing the surrender of Gaspard's army. It had been a slow process. Because of the ceasefire many people on both sides of the war weren't even aware that the war had ended, some refused to believe that the war was over. Claude de Aumont had graduated from the Academie de Chevalier shortly before the war started. He didn't even have enough time to "bloody" his sword in the local Alienage. Fortunately, he had ample opportunity to test his blade and his training during the duration of the war.

Claude reported to his company's captain to confirm his shift's duty for the evening. _"Claude de Aumont, reporting for duty, Ser!"_ the young man saluted.

"_You do not need to shout, Claude. I know who you are and what you're doing here."_ The older knight sighed from his desk in his tent. _"The war is over, you don't need to be so zealous."_

"_I'm a Chevalier, Ser. My training is thorough and my sword is bloodied, both on the field and in the Alienage. Zealous is what I'm supposed to be."_ Claude responded dutifully.

"_If only those damned Freeman felt as you did. We'd all be better off for it."_ The captain sighed wearily. _"When this tour is over you'll be heading back to Val Chevin? You have anyone special to go back to?"_

"_I've got my eye set on the daughter of one of my father's friends, and my sister just had her first daughter. So, yes I do have a few special someones to return to."_ Claude answered with a smile.

"_Well, you'll be returning to a different world, that's for certain."_ The captain continued writing his report. _"The sky being torn open, demons running amok. And now an elf is ruling the Dales. It's all madness. Maker knows how we'll survive this Age."_

"_I'll leave the politics and the Game to the nobility and stick the battlefield myself."_ Claude assured.

"_Well, seeing as this will probably be your last shift with me, I'll be unusually generous and give you something easy. Go relieve Dupont on sentry duty. That should be enough before you go home."_ The captain instructed.

"_I'll still serve to the best of my ability, ser."_ Claude saluted.

"_As well you should."_

Claude went over to one of the man-made sentry towers were he would spend his last night on guard duty. Maker willing, this shift would be as easy as the rest of the week had been. Over the past few weeks "sentry duty" was used as another term for "sleeping duty". The job was so easy you could sleep through it. Claude made his way up the ladder, and sure enough, Dupont was standing there, lance in hand, sleeping at his post.

"_Dupont, you lazy bastard, you can go get yourself some real sleep now. It's my turn for 'sentry duty." _Claude laughed.

Dupont just stood there with his back to Claude without moving or making a sound. He was one heavy sleeper.

"_Hey, Dupont! It's time to change shifts. Get your ass down to your tent."_ Claude shook Dupont's shoulder to wake him from his little nap. That one little shake was enough to make Dupont's severed head roll off his shoulders and fall right off the sentry tower. Blood from Dupon't neck-hole and severed arteries spurted in geyser of red and splashed on Claude's horrified face.

"_Andraste's sweet, holy fucking tits!"_ Claude screamed at the sight of his comrade's headless corpse. _"What the fuck!?"_ Claude couldn't climb down fast enough. He had to alert the captain. _"Captain! Captain! We have an intruder! Dupont is…Oh, fucking Maker!"_ Claude found the captain still sitting at his desk, pen still in his hand and set on his reports. Only his head was now resting on his own desk like a paper weight.

Claude had to remain calm. This was what the Academie trained him for. No dagger in the dark was going to claim him. Not now. He was going to see his new niece first.

Claude heard something happening in the dark outside the tent. The sounds of flesh tearing, blood spraying and men dying. Claude needed to act. He ran outside and found more of the guards had been slain, and just like the captain and Dupont, their heads were cut clean off.

"_**INTRUDER!**__ We have an intruder! Sentries! Light the torches! Men to arms!"_ Claude screamed at the top of his lungs, alerting every soldier in the camp. When his fellows saw the other bodies of their brothers in arms laying around they scrambled to get to their positions and their weapons. The remaining sentries lit their flood torches and started scanning the camp ground with their bright lights. The assailant had to still be in the camp.

Claude saw something fly through the darkness. It moved so fast he barely noticed it. It flew towards one of the sentry towers, and pulled on of their heads right off.

"_Look! Over there! I see him!"_ another one of the other guards in the sentry towers cried. They pointed their flood beams down into the shadows and revealed their assassin. And Claude couldn't believe his eyes. It was an elf! He was holding some kind of weapon in his hands, some kind of sickle? And his eyes…they were glowing.

One of the Chevaliers charged the murderous elf, screaming in rage. The elf threw a chain that was tied to the end of his sickle and easily pulled the knight towards him. _**"GET OVER HERE!"**_ the elf screamed as he cut his hand-held scythe across the Chevalier's midsection and ripped his intestines out.

A few crossbowmen shot their bolts at the elf and nailed him in the chest and stomach, but the enraged assailant acted like it was nothing. He whirled his chained sickle over his head in a wide arc and swung it at the crossbowmen. One…two…three…the sickle swung straight through their neck like butter.

In a heated rage more Chevaliers charged the savage elf, their swords thirsty for more elven blood. The elf charged them with impossible speed right into the middle of them all. He easily dodged their blades and hooked his sickle around the unprotected joints of their limbs, severing their arms and legs, and decapitating their bodies. One knight attacked from far behind, but the elf threw a weighted dart at the end of his chain right into the knight's skull and pulverized his brain while simultaneously using the sickle end to cut another knight straight in the testicles.

Claude couldn't stand by and watch more of his brothers die at the hands of this elven murderer. He attacked with a flurry of rapid succession of lunges and slashes. But the elf moved with impossible speed and easily avoided each strike and smiled mockingly at the Chevalier. Claude tried to finish with Duelist Catches an Apple, and aimed the tip of his sword straight at the elf's throat, but the elf parried and caught his blade with that damned sickle. He locked Claude's sword in the hook-like blade and ripped out of his hands. Claude thought he was done for.

But then something happened. The elf dropped his weapon and began staggering as though he were in immense pain, but no one had yet hit him, and those crossbow bolts didn't seem to be bothering him a few minutes ago. Despite the obvious pain he was in, the elf still had that damned smile on his face. His face and body began to glow from the inside, and some kind of light was emerging from his mouth. Like there was a fire burning inside of him. Maker's breath! What was happening?!

"**Elagar'nan Enansal! **The elf screamed as the fire inside him exploded like a volcano. The last thing Claude ever knew was an impossibly bright light, and heat more intense and painful than any forge in Orlais. Claude would never see the vineyards of Val Chevin again or ever get a chance to see his new niece.

**The Chateua of House de Forbin in Val Firmin…**

Pierre was having difficulty dressing himself in his dinner vest, his mind was distracted and for good reason. He looked himself in the mirror and looked very angry, he would have to change his expression. He didn't want to frighten and worry his family, supper should be a time when family should enjoy each other, not bring on more worries to burden the family down, but Pierre was just so frustrated. And as if on cue, his wife entered their chambers.

"_Pierre…"_ Simone addressed_. "What in Andraste's name is taking you? Supper's getting cold."_

"_Ah, forgive me, my dear." _Pierre sighed. _"I just have so much on my mind right now."_

Simone walked over to her spouse and gently clasped his head in her hands, and he took hers in kind.

"_What is it that is bothering you so, husband?"_ Simone asked gently. _"We have so much to celebrate now. The usurper has been executed and the Empress' throne is secure. You should be relieved and proud."_

"_I am, Simone."_ Pierre defended. _"I am grateful that that dressed up thug was finally put on to the sword, but it only seems like have traded one usurper for another in this Empire."_

That response shocked his wife. _"How can you mean that? You've been one of Celene's most ardent supporters and have always said she was what the empire needed."_

"_Not her."_ Pierre exhaled_. "That pet of hers: Briala the so-called Marquis of the Dales."_

Simone rolled her eyes and gave a frustrated sigh, then she grabbed her husband's hand and started leading him to the dining room_. "Come now, Pierre. Gerard and Clarice are waiting for us." _

"_I just can't believe what the empress is doing, giving Halamshiral to the peasants and the savages."_ Pierre continued to rant even as he was walking with his wife to their meal.

"_Come, come now, Pierre."_ Simone gently cooed_. "It's better than losing to the Usurper and worrying about him sending his dogs to our porch."_

"_Yes, now instead I have to pay taxes to some damn rabbit that happens to be the empress' pet, and all the contracts I have now have to be overlooked by filthy serfs that can't even read!"_ Pierre spoke out harshly; completely ignoring the fact that his elven servants were in earshot. He didn't care. This is what elves are supposed to do, serve the betters faithfully. _"It seems like the Empress is only doing this to please that Ambasador, as if the provinces of Orlais were treats you feed to a dog!"_

"_You forget, husband…"_ Simone cautioned. _"The only reason Celene retains her throne is because she now has the support of the Inquisitor, who is, in fact, a heathen elf from the forest. And if she wants to keep her throne as well as the Inquisitor's armies, spies and supplies, she's going to have to make a few concessions to the Inquisitor's people."_

"_Yes, and in the meantime noble houses like ours must bend our knees to an upstart cutthroat. Does the pride of the Empire mean nothing to the Empress that she has to reward a race of servants instead of leaving them with what they should already be content with?"_

"_Now, Pierre…"_ Simone started in a harsher tone_. "It is time for dinner and I will not have our children see the father pouting like a child himself."_

Pierre pondered his wife's words for a moment. The lord recomposed himself and entered the dining hall to enjoy a meal with his family. House De Forbin had stood in this land for almost eight hundred years, since the Cheveliers and the Templars finally brought the heathen kingdom to heel and put the savage elves in their place. He would not set a poor example to his children by acting in such a poor manner at the table.

Dinner was a fine feast, roasted boar, cheese from the Anderfels, and Aque Lucidias, a fine feast to celebrate the security of the Empress' throne. Gerard and Clarice were eleven and ten respectively and both had their dreams; Gerard aspired to go to the Academie de Chevalier and Clarice wanted to be a singer.

"_How goes your studies, Clarice?"_ Pierre asked his daughter.

"_Very well, Father."_ Clarice answered politely. _"And my song teacher says a have one of the loveliest voices she ever heard."_

"_Clarice…"_ Pierre gently chided his daughter. _"I thought we already had this conversation."_

"_But Sister Nightingale started as a singer!" _Clarice protested. _"Then she became the Divine's Left Hand, and is now the Seneschal of the Inquisition!"_

Her father waved that off. _"She was the Left Hand of the Divine, until she failed and let her die and now she serves a heathen that dares call himself the Herald of our Lady."_

"_If she can't be a singer, does that not mean I can't be a Chevalier?"_ Gerard chirped in.

"_Of course you can be a Chevalier, Gerard it's just that…"_ Before Pierre could finish explaining his vision began to blur and rush of heat went to his head.

"_Darling, are you alright."_ Simone asked with concern. He could barely understand his wife, her voice was starting to distort.

"_I'm alright."_ Pierre assured while wiping a great deal of sweat from his brow _"I just need some wine."_

As Pierre reached for his glass he felt the strength of his arm leave as he lifted it and wine fell to the floor. Than all of a sudden he saw Gerard vomit up his whole dinner and double down on the table. He heard his wife scold his son for his poor manners then, all too suddenly, his daughter collapsed on the table. Then his daughter fell to the ground. Simone rushed to their children, they were convulsing terribly, frothing from the mouth and their eyes had rolled to the back of their heads. That's when both wife and husband realized their children were dead! Poisoned. Just like him!

Simone screeched loudly while all Pierre could do was fall back into his chair, feeling hotter by the second, his sweat drenching his clothes all the while his entire body atrophy into paralysis. Simone continued to scream for someone to help her poor children and Pierre could do nothing, he couldn't go over to help his beautiful offspring, couldn't give his beloved wife comfort, just sit there like a rock and do nothing.

The servants finally heard the screaming and were finally going to save their masters. But rather than going over to the children, the three servants went over to his wife.

"_Quickly, please!"_ Simone pleaded_. "The children need help."_

"_No." _One of the rabbits one of the servants answered coldly. _"They're already dead."_

The same servant produced a strange scythe-like blade and in one deft stroke, he stroke Simone's beautiful head from her body.

No! This couldn't be happening. Not to his family! Pierre's bloodline had held sway in these lands for centuries, they couldn't be murdered by a bunch filthy peasants. He wanted to lash out, to grab one of the dinner knives and jam it in the filthy knife-ears big eyes! But he couldn't. He was completely paralyzed. Helpless.

"_It's different, isn't it?"_ A hateful voice asked. _"When you're the one helpless to save the ones you love from some foreign power."_

Pierre guided his eyes to the owner of that voice. Another blasted elf. This one wasn't one of his servants. He wore green armor and had strange tattooing on his face and his eyes...His eyes burned with the fury of the sun, and in his hands was the same knife that killed his beloved Simone. Now it was his turn. His only comfort would be that his family was waiting for him. And the last thing he saw was his own severed neck spurting a fountain of his blood as his dismembered head fell to the floor.

**The Grand Cathedral of Val Royeaux**

The bells of the Grand Cathedral's tower rang in thunderous beauty and echoed beyond the borders of Orlais' capital. The spirit of anyone who sought the love of the Maker would soar at hearing the majestic sound of the bells accompanied by the harmony and purity of choirs singing the Chant of Light. Throughout most of Mother Olivia's years in service to the Chantry, the songs and hymns of the Chant while walking through the halls of the Grand Cathedral would put her at ease, but not today. Ringing of the bells brought no peace, and the halls nearly as empty and quiet as a tomb. The Nevarran Necropolis had more life in it than the heart of the Chantry did now.

These were dark time for the Chantry, and for all Andrastians. After the death of their beloved Most Holy, Divine Justinia V, along with most of the Grand Clerics and Chantry hierarchy, many feared that the Chantry's days were numbered. Instead of looking to them, the servants of the Maker, for answers, many of the faithful were now looking to this New Inquisition, and it's Lord Inquisitor, for salvation.

Mother Olivia stopped in her tracks at the mere thought of that man. Even today she could not fathom his place in the world. How could he, a heathen elf from the forest, possibly be the favored chosen of Andraste? Revered Mother Hevara confronted this Inquisitor Lavellan in Val Royeaux, where she intended to denounce the Inquisition as a group of rebellious heretics, only to be shamed by their own Templars, and by Lord-Seeker Lucius of all people. And then this Inquisitor Lavellan actually admitted to Mother Hevara's face that he was a heretic, that he worshiped the false gods of the elves.

Olivia couldn't believe it when she heard this news. It completely defied everything Olivia thought she knew about the Chant of Light, about the Maker. Seven hundred years ago, the Chantry declared a holy Exalted March against the elven kingdom for denying the Maker. It was a righteous triumph for the Chantry. They brought the elves from their heathen ways and false gods, and directed them to the light of the Maker. Now many thousands of elves knew the word of the Maker, but there were those who still refused to see the light. Those elves who refused to embrace the word of Andraste, and stubbornly clung to their heathen ways, and retreated into the forests away from civilization to practice their pagan rituals in secret, those elves called the Dalish. And now, one of those heathen elves was now being seen as Andraste's Herald, even as when he denied being chosen.

What manner of test was this? Why did the Maker send them these riddles and mysterious? Just thinking about it brought questions of doubt and confusion to Olivia's spirit, and doubt was the enemy of faith. She tried to push the thoughts from her mind and focus on her task.

Because of the tragic events at the Conclave and the deaths of so many of its members, the Chantry was now woefully undermanned. Even here in the Grand Cathedral, it was everything they could do just to keep the daily routine functioning like normal, but without with most of the Chantry's hierarchy dead and the Templars gone, the task was nearly impossible. Still, they must show their resolve and diligence to the Maker's word in these trying times.

Olivia had been tasked with cataloguing the many artifacts held in the vault of the Grand Cathedral. Many of the most holy and sacred relics of the Andrastian faith were held here. Such artifacts included sacred texts written by previous Divines, relics from the time of Andraste, and the remains and ashes of the most devout and accomplished saints and martyrs to ever serve the Chantry. Truly, it was a distinct honor to be in the presence of such important pieces to their faith. The only thing that could possibly make this vault more grand, more sacred than anything in all of Thedas was if the holiest of holies, the Urn of Sacred Ashes had been placed here, as it should have been, instead of being lost not long after the Hero of Ferelden discovered it.

When Olivia arrived at the great vault in the heart of the Grand Cathedral, she was saluted by the platoon of Templars who were wise and dutiful enough to not abandon the Chantry. These men were given the responsibility of guarding the Chantry's most holy relics, and each of them were ready to lay their lives down for that task. Surely, the Maker smiled on them and their dedication. Each of them stood at attention before the massive doors behind them. These door were wide and thick enough to withstand a siege, and if the sheer size of the door didn't discourage and would-be burglars, these highly trained Templars would.

_"Good day, Mother Olivia."_ The Knight-Captain greeted.

_"Hello, Captain Guy."_ Olivia returned politely. _"I'm here catalogue the relics kept in the vault. In these troubling times, we must take every precaution to make sure our most sacred relics are kept safe."_

_"Of course."_ Knight-Captain Guy agreed. _"And you can rest assured, Revered Mother, that my men and I will keep these relics safe."_

The Knight-Captain's men opened the immense doors which groaned like a hungry beast, and echoed throughout the hallway, revealing the awesome vault. The vault door itself was tall enough for a knight to ride through it on his horse, and the door itself was made from the best materials by the best craftsmen in all of Thedas. The door was thick and sturdy enough that an ogre would break its fist trying to breach it. Along the face of the entry were ancient runes carved in lyrium meant to negate magic so that no mage could possibly break in here.

Guy approached the puzzle lock, to which only he knew the right combination, and deftly twisted and turned the nobs and wheels in the right sequence to grant Olivia entry. The massive tumblers and bolts inside the door clicked and turned, and the door itself made a thunderous boom when it finally opened for the Revered Mother.

The Templars stood their post while Olivia entered the grand vault room with respect and reverence. She could feel the power and holiness of this place standing there. Truly, to gaze upon so many holy relics was an honor beyond measure. After a moment of gazing in awe, Olivia set to work to cataloguing the contents of the vault. There were so many items to take inventory of, this task might take her at least the rest of the week, but Olivia didn't mind. What servant of the Chantry could possibly think this was a burden?

When Olivia made it towards the back of the vault, she found herself staring at something she never thought she'd live to lay her eyes on. The Chalice of The Most Holy, the goblet used in the coronation of Divine Justinia I, the first Divine of the Chantry. She originally served as the only female general in Emperor Kordillus I's army, but was chosen and risen up to be the voice of Andraste, The Most Holy in Thedas. Made from the purest gold and the finest gemstone, Emperor Kordillus bequeathed this goblet to the new Divine during her coronation, and she drank from its brim, signifying her taking the word of the Maker and the authority of Andraste into her spirit.

To be in the presence of such an important object, Olivia was overcome with feeling, and couldn't help but want to hold it. Despite being unworthy of being in its presence, Olivia held the ancient chalice in her hands, marveling at its beauty, how it had lasted nearly a thousand years, and still had the power to raise the spirit of the faithful. Olivia's eyes gazed deeply into the chalice's gilded surface, unable to take her eyes away.

Something broke her entrancement from the majesty of the first Divine's blessed goblet. A strange, wet yet warm sensation that seemed to fall upon on top of her head. Olivia stroked her hair trying to feel what just fell on her, but couldn't make sense of it. Loud dripping sounds broke the silence in the vault, like rain pattering against the ground. What was that? The sound of dripping smacked on the sacred chalice, and Olivia's eyes went wide with horror. Sweet, holy Andraste...it was blood!

Olivia froze in terror as more of it dripped down from nowhere, falling right on and even into the sacred chalice. She looked up, and saw that blood was falling from the roof. What manner of blasphemy was this?! She turned around and screamed in terror for the Templars.

_"Ser Guy!"_ Olivia cried in horror, hoping that the Templars could find out what was happening, but they didn't come. The only sound she heard was the echo of her own terrified cry. Olivia ran from the back of the vault to the entrance as fast as her legs could carry her. She needed to get help, their was no way there could be blood in the very heart of the Grand Cathedral.

Olivia made it to the entrance, but slipped and fell down hard before she could even get out, putting her in a daze. What did she slip in? Olivia tried to focus her eyes and get back up. As she got up, her blood ran cold and she became too terrified to even scream when she discovered that she had tripped in a pool of blood, and even more blood was raining down on her, turning the floor into a lake of crimson. She was surrounded by the butchered corpses of all the Templars. Their eviscerated bodies hanging upside-down from the rafters by chains, like pieces of meat at the market place, and lying right next to hear was the beheaded corpse of Knight-Captain Guy.

Olivia shrieked and vomited in shock and disgust. Never in her life had she seen so much blood. She had to get help, she needed to get out of here. The frantic Chantry Mother staggered to her feet, trying not to trip again, or look at the slain men hanging around her, but when finally stood back up, she screamed like she never had before, when she came face to face with Ser Guy's severed head.

_"Looking for this?"_ Asked a masked figure, holding the dead Templar's head in his hand and holding it front of the Revered Mother's face. Olivia shrieked so loud it felt like she tore her vocal chords. Her heart couldn't take anymore, and finally fainted in horror.

Olivia's eyes began to flutter open, hoping to the Maker that she was waking from some horrid nightmare conjured from her fear and doubt. But when her eyes opened, and she saw the dead bodies of the Templars still hanging from the rafters, their blood pooling on the floor, she realized that her horror was real. Olivia watched, terrified and helpless, and her heart was crushed inside her chest, as she watched a group of masked assassins began to plunder the vault of its sacred treasures, like vultures to a corpse.

_"No, stop! You cannot do this!"_ Olivia sobbed in horror. _"These are the most sacred treasures in all of Thedas!"_

_"We know. That's why we're here."_ The masked murderer who was holding Ser Guy's severed head answered sinisterly, and began to walk over to the fearful Chantry servant. He wore strange armor that clung to his whole being and an ancient looking mask with no features, but with horns adorning it head. Behind that faceless mask was a pair of eyes that were burning like hot coals from a smith's furnace. His very presence filled Olivia with a sense of fear she had never known in her worst nightmares. It was like standing in the presence of a demon.

_"Thank you for opening the door for us, Mother Olivia."_ The demonic assassin thanked mockingly. _"We would have had a difficult time getting in without your help."_

Another masked assailant, looked like a woman, came over to the frantic Mother, and pressed a knife against her neck.

_"What should we do with this one?"_ The masked woman growled.

The demonic leader casually tossed Ser Guy's head into the air like it was a child's toy, then kicked it with such force and precision, that the entire skull exploded on his foot. Chunks of brain, flesh and skull splattered everywhere, before turning his burning gaze back to the Chantry Mother.

_"Her? Let her go, as soon as we're finished here."_ The masked demon answered, never taking his eyes of the hostage._ "Do you hear me, woman? You're going to live, and you're going to remind the world how helpless the Chantry truly is. Tell them that...judgment has finally come to the Chantry, and everyone you have wronged will have their due."_

_"Consider yourself lucky, bitch."_ The masked woman hissed hatefully in Olivia's ear, her knife still pressing against the Chantry Mother's neck. _"Were it up to me, you'd be hanging with the rest of these Templar weaklings with your guts hanging out."_ The woman withdrew her knife and shoved Mother Olivia back to the floor, and went back to desecrating the vault with the rest of the blasphemers.

Olivia just laid there on the floor, painful tears of desperation running down her eyes, praying for the Maker to stop this. Why was this happening? How could anyone's heart be so black that they would defile the most sacred treasures in all of Thedas? What was this for, money? Olivia couldn't believe anyone could have that kind of greed. A horrified gasp escaped her lips, and her eyes nearly bugged out of her head in outraged shock and horror when she saw the masked demon emerged from the vault. He was carrying a sealed urn stamped with the Divine's holy seal of sainthood, and he held like it was some kind of trophy he won, without a hint of respect or reverence.

_"NO!"_ Mother Olivia screamed hysterically. _"You can't take that! Do you have any idea what that is?!"_

_"I know exactly what it is. That's why I am taking it."_ The masked demon chuckled sinisterly.

_"Maker curse you!"_ Olivia screeched with furious tears streaming her face.

The masked leader finally had enough of her, and kicked the Chantry Mother in the face, knocking out cold. When she wakes up, she should consider herself lucky that he didn't just break her neck instead. He looked back into the vault while his underlings continued to plunder it.

_"Take whatever treasure you can carry. Whatever you can't take, burn!"_

His men obeyed orders. Within moments, they were gone like shadows in the night, leaving behind the unconscious Chantry Mother, and the vault in flames. By the time the rest of the Chantry discovered what had happened, the Sacred Vault would house nothing but ashes and tears.

**Back in Skyhold…**

Rajmael slept peacefully in his bed. After everything he has been through, the near death encounters with Red Templars, Venatori mages, demons and even dragons in some of the most godforsaken inhospitable landscapes in Thedas, sleep was a wonderful luxury. It was as close to a vacation as he could possibly get. Most nights he had were blissfully dreamless, he just slept like a rock with nothing to disturb him.

Rajmael was forced awake when he heard his door slam open, and footsteps pounding into his room. Was it advisors? The Inquisitor looked over thinking to see his councilors with something so important that they'd just barge into his room unannounced in the middle of the night. Instead he saw something infinitely worse.

Templars. Lots of them.

"_There's the heretic!"_ One of them shouted. _"Seize him!"_

Rajmael decided give these pricks a taste of raw elven lightning but something wrong; he tried to tap into the Fade but couldn't, he couldn't feel the magic from the Beyond. Sweet Mythal, his magic had been canceled!

"_You shan't be using your blasphemous powers now, heathen!"_ One of the Templars sneered.

Impossible. No Templar could negate his magic. Well, if magic won't work than Rajmael would just have to rely on good old fashioned swordsmanship. He grabbed for Enasalin on the post of his mattress and charged the three Templars, he would cut them down in one fell swipe. But when Enasalin was supposed to cut through the first Templar like a hot knife through butter it instead broke like glass on a stone.

"_W-what the fuck!?"_ Rajmael yelled out confounded as he looked at the shattered elven treasure.

"_He-he-he-ha-ha-ha! Weapons forged by savages are no match against those who bear the Maker's righteous flame!"_ The Templars yelled out with a bellowing cackle.

"_Take him!"_ The bastard fallen knights came down on him, Rajmael tried to fight back but they were as strong as ogres. They proceeded to pummel Rajmael into a floor stain and he was all but helpless. One thought just kept coming into his mind; how the fuck did these assholes get this far into the Keep to begin with?

The armored crossdressers dragged him out of his quarters, busted and bleeding, and into the open square of Skyhold and Rajmael saw what they had done. All of Skyhold was set aflame, and all of its denizens were butchered in the snow. Horror filled Rajmael's heart when he looked around the yard and saw the heads of Solas, Dorian, Varric, Iron Bull and all his Chargers mounted on pikes. How did all this happen?!

They threw him into the middle courtyard where a crowd of people, Templars, Chantry servants and common folk had gathered around to jeer and mock him. But that wasn't all. Cullen, Leliana, Mother Giselle and even Cassandra were calling for his death, condemning his heresy. Even Cassandra? How could this be happening?

"_Lo and behold, all you faithful!"_ said a voice Rajmael remembered from a forgotten nightmare. _"The pagan who dared call himself the Herald of Andraste!"_

One of Rajmael's eyes was swollen shut, but he could still see who who was leading this mob. A tall, vile figure, gaunt as a skeleton, wearing the dressings and mitre of a Revered Mother. She was an old crone with claw-like hands and was taller than any woman he'd seen. On either side of her stood the most fearsome Templars he'd ever seen, with swords of the most grotesque make drawn at him. The Revered Mother's face was obscured by shadow, but the very sound of her voice filled Rajmael with such fear that he couldn't move, his voice was frozen in his throat and couldn't even scream. All he could do was lay there, battered and broken in fear, while the mob chanted for his death.

"_The blame is yours alone. You brought this upon yourselves!"_ The demonic Revered Mother mocked. _"Your heathen ways are an offense to Andraste and the Maker!"_ Rajmael was horrified to see his parents chained before him with the Templars standing with their swords ready.

"_Mythal enaste! No!"_ Rajmael screamed.

"_Look at these foul images that you've allowed to taint your soul!"_ The Revered Mother hissed as she threw Rajmael's totems to the ground. _"Dairren, and your wife, Ranalle, have forsaken Andraste! You are a blemish in the sight of the Maker! And you must be purged!"_

Rajmael couldn't move. Couldn't even scream his terror. It was like he was seven years old again. All he could do was watch in horror as the templars murdered his parents right in front of his eyes. Again.

"_Hear me, all you faithful! The threat of the blasphemous Inquisition ends now!"_ The evil crone yelled triumphantly while of his supporters cheered and hooted and the mages all stayed silent and emotionless. _"With this army of Tranquil slaves bolstering our supplies and weapons we will be unstoppable in bringing the Light of the Maker to the rest of Thedas! But first, we shall deal with this elven apostate! And what is the price all heretics must pay!?" _

The mob roared in approval.

"_They must…__**BURN!"**_

And with that the Templars dragged Rajmael to a stake atop of brittle kindling. _"Don't feel too bad, knife-ear!"_ Laughed one of the Templars dragging him. _"You'll die just like Andraste did! Fitting for a usurper that dared to claim to be her herald!" _

Again Rajmael tried to fight back but this time the Templars broke both of his arms! He cried out in pain as he felt his bones snap like dry branches and in rage. They had tied him to the stake and finally lit it up and all the bastards were laughing as flames reached higher.

Something grabbed Rajmael's shoulder as the pyre burned around him. He turned his head to find the rotting hand of dead corpse holding him. It looked like another undead, but there was something sickeningly familiar about.

"_Fear not, my son."_ A voice he had all but forgotten bade. Rajmael's stomach went sick as he gazed upon the long dead corpse of his mother staring at him. All the beauty he remembered had been rotted away. Her hair was grimy with clumps ripped out, and her flesh was like wet then dried paper. Maggots poured from her mouth and eye sockets. The very smell of her putrescent flesh was worse than the smoke.

"_Ma…Mama?"_ Rajmael gasped.

"_Now you can join us in our eternal pain!"_ She screeched out through putrid lips.

"_Yes, Rajmael."_ He looked to his right and saw a walking, headless corpse walked over the flames. The wound on its headless shoulders where the neck should have been was still wet and bleeding with filth and carrion festering in it. The corpse raised its hand towards the burning Inquisitor, and in its grip was the dead man's own severed head. Its face looked just like Rajmael's.

"_Father?"_ Rajmael cried.

"_You should have burned with us years ago and you would have been spared all pain and suffering."_ His father's dismembered head explained to him as the flesh fell from his skull, and left only a rancid skull that began to cackle maliciously.

"_Rajmael."_ A sweet voice called to him. No, it couldn't be. Little Eva.

Eva was strapped to a stake across from him, with fire engulfing her body. The flames had already blackened and ruined her flesh. "There's no need to fight anymore we're all waiting for you!" Eva laughed as she burst into flames and fell over into smoldering skeleton while all the Templar and parent's ghosts laughed insidiously for all the mountains to hear.

"_**NOOOOO!"**_ Rajmael finally screamed out. He could feel his skin crackle and burn and smell his flesh and hair sear. The pain was excruciating! He watched as his skin burned and melted off his bones, the smell of his own body cooking filled his nostrils. How could this have happened? Is this truly how it all ends? He could hear the voices of the crowd screaming his name as the flames destroyed him.

**~XoXoXo~**

"_Rajmael! Rajmael!"_ Cassandra cried frantically as she tried to wake Rajmael from his sleep. Some horrible nightmare had taken hold of him. If a nightmare took hold of a mage as powerful as Rajmael, it could have terrible effect.

"_**NOOO-OOO!"**_ Rajmael screamed as his bed burst into flames. He finally ripped himself from his nightmare. _"No! No! Get away!"_ The Inquisitor screamed as he jumped from his bed and reached for his sword. It wasn't until Rajmael saw the scared look on Cassandra's face, and the sight of his own be on fire, did he finally calm down enough to magically extinguish the flames before his whole room went up in smoke.

Rajmael collapsed to his knees in exhaustion and his sword fell from his hands. Cassandra ran and knelt beside Rajmael, despite the flames that just burned in the room, he was covered in a sheen of ice cold sweat.

"_Rajmael, what happened?"_ Cassandra asked with frantic concern.

"_I…I had a…nightmare, but that isn't strong enough to describe what I saw."_ Rajmael answered between gasps_. "A memory of a time I thought, prayed, that I had forgotten."_

"_What time was that?"_

"_The murder of everything I love."_ Rajmael answered woefully.

**The Next Morning….**

Rajmael and Cassandra both stood in the Keeps library where he relayed his night's terror to Solas. Dreams are different for mages. Their connection to the Fade allowed them access into the the dream world and gave them their power. So when a mage dreams, it can also attract the attention of demons and have an effect on the world around them. Being the Inquisition residential expert on the Fade and dreams, perhaps Solas could tell the Inquisitor the significance of such a nightmare.

"_Was there anything in particular that stood out in your dream, Inquisitor?"_ Solas asked from his chair.

Rajmael snorted agitatedly. _"I was dragged out of the keep by a murderous mob, my dead mother's rotting corpse grabbed me, my father's body was holding his own severed head, and it spoke to me in his voice, and I watched as my step-daughter burned alive! None of that sounds like it stands out to you!?"_

"_You lead a violent life, Inquisitor, horror is all too common."_ Solas answered calmly. _"And there has been tragedy in your life. It is very usual for people, even mages, to have nightmares about such events in their lives."_

"_I haven't had this nightmare in over twenty years, Solas."_ Rajmael informed grimly. _"I…didn't even remember the voices of my parents until I heard them again in that dream. Or that…other voice."_

Solas quirked an eyebrow. _"What other voice?"_

"_I…I remembered the voice of the Revered Mother who condemned my family to death."_ Rajmael confessed. _"The words she used, even the way she said my parents' names, and what she said to me were exactly the same. I thought…hoped I had forgotten it."_

Solas found that most intriguing_. "Give me your best guess: why do you think everyone, even your own Councilors, and members of the Inquisition were aiding in this mob assault?"_

"_Just like when I was a child, I was being executed for…being one of the People."_ Rajmael answered sorrowfully.

Solas placed his hand on his chin thoughtfully. _"Hmm. I see. I overheard your argument with Cassandra, Leliana and Mother Giselle yesterday. About how you do not want to aid the Chantry for the crimes it's committed against you and elvenkind. Perhaps this dream was a manifestation of your fear of what the Chantry has done to you, and what it could do to Eva."_

"_I've never had a dream affect me so profoundly. I've never lost control like that before, even when I was getting the crap kicked out of me during my training in magic and swordsmanship."_

"_Dreams can affect us mages when we are under great strain or fear."_ Solas reasoned_. "Given how powerful your magic is, I believe having your bed catch fire was an ideal result."_

"_Even with such sound explanations, I can't help but think there was more to this, Solas."_ Rajmael confessed. _"Dreams are powerful things, and I truly believe that this dream was some kind of ill omen."_

Cullen suddenly barged in through the door to the outside battlements._ "Inquisitor, I need you to approve these orders..."_

_"There is an urgent matter that needs your attention, my lord."_ Josephine announced as she entered the rotunda.

_"Inquisitor, I need to speak with you now."_ Leliana as she came down from the atrium.

Rajmael groaned into his hands. Before he could take anymore time to reflect on lasts night's traumatic memories, his advisors had to walk in and bombard him with the various matters and crises that the Inquisition was dealing with. Well, time to get this over with.

_"Everyone, please, let's try speaking one at a time. After all, there is only one of me."_ Rajmael requested.

_"Inquisitor, I need you to approve these orders for our men to assist the Imperial Army in pacifying what's left of Gaspard's army."_ Cullen informed. _"Because of the war, couriers have had difficulty relaying orders, and I think Gaspard's former subordinates will be more likely to listen to our men than any officer in Celene's army."_

_"Only send enough men so that we have a presence, not a full contingency."_ Rajmael instructed. _"I want our men to inform Gaspard's soldiers that the war is over, not make them think that they're in for another fight."_

_"Understood, Inquisitor."_ Cullen acknowledged.

Rajmael turned his attention to Leliana, who had a rather a grim look on her face, like she had just gotten the most ill news. _"Leliana, you look serious."_

_"I'm afraid the matter is serious."_ Leliana admitted. _"Several of my contacts within the Chantry have informed that there has been an assault within the Grand Cathedral."_

Shocked looks and gasps came over the other councilors and Cassandra. It was obvious that this disturbed them deeply. Rajmael, however, just stood there with a blank look on his face.

_"Who did what in the where?"_ Rajmael asked, completely ignorant of what the problem was, earning an annoyed groan from Cassandra and Leliana.

_"The Sacred Vault of the Grand Cathedral is where the Chantry houses its most important relics and treasures."_ Josephine informed the Inquisitor seriously. _"Some of the items there are key parts to the Andrastian faith."_

Rajmael groaned into his hand. He detested having to assist the Chantry after everything it has put him through. _"Let me guess: with the Chantry so weakened, and virtually no Templars to protect them, some opportunistic thieves decided to break into your precious vault and make off with some priceless artifacts."_

_"I truly wish there were it, but there's more to it than that."_ Leliana said sadly. _"Whoever it was, they somehow bypassed all the centuries worth of security measures designed in the Grand Cathedral, and they...butchered the Templars who were guarding the vault with a level of brutality I haven't seen outside of Aedan Cousland."_

_"Murder? In the Grand Cathedral?"_ Cassanda said in disbelief. _"I...truly did not think anyone was capable of such sacrilege."_

_"How do you mean?"_ Cullen asked deeply concerned.

_"They...they were found hanging upside down from the rafters with their innards spilling out of them."_ Leliana answered somberly, like she couldn't believe the words that came out of her own mouth.

_"Oh, Sweet Andraste."_ Josephine gasped. It looked like she might vomit, but she held it back.

_"Were their any witnesses to this act?"_ Rajmael inquired.

_"That...is were things begin to get dark."_ Leliana said grimly._ "The only witness to the crime, Revered Mother Olivia, a devout a young woman who was just recently raised to her position, has been irrevocably scarred by what she saw. No one can even get her to talk about what happened. She just sobs uncontrollably and rants about how demons with burning eyes had trespassed into the very heart of the Grand Cathedral."_

_"Demons with burning eyes?"_ Rajmael said skeptically. _"Speaking from my own personal experience, I think that if demons did attack the Gran Cathedral, there would be no question about it."_

_"Indeed."_ Solas agreed. _"Such creatures would not have stopped at the Templars, nor would they have any interest in treasure, no matter how sacred."_

_"Do your contacts know what was stolen?"_ Cassandra asked earnestly.

_"That's the strange part."_ Leliana answered dismayed. _"They only took a few items, gold trinkets and gifts to previous Divines, but then they burned everything else."_

_"No!"_ Cassandra gasped in horror. "How much was lost? What survived?!"

"This cannot be!" Josephine said in shock.

_"Thankfully, the protective wards that were placed inside the vault protected most of the treasure, and we only lost a few things, but nothing we can't live without."_ The Spymaster said thankfully.

_"If this is all so important and so tragic, why hasn't the Chantry made a statement or asked for aid?"_ Rajmael asked.

_"The remaining clerics would never admit to being so weak or so incompetent that an assault on the very center of the faith happened on their watch. They have already lost enough face and the confidence of the people."_ Leliana answered. _"And the only ones who are capable of assisting them is the Inquisition..."_

_"And they'd never ask us because they're too proud, especially after condemning us as heretics."_ Rajmael concluded blithely. _"So, what, you want us to track down these thieves so that the Inquisition can prove that we're not against the Chantry?"_

_"The thieves are a secondary matter. What is more important is that we get back what they've stolen."_ Leliana finally stated. _"With everything that has happened, the remaining Mothers and Clerics decided to move the reliquaries and remains of our saints and martyrs to the vault, to keep them safe."_

_"How tragically ironic."_ Rajmael said, vainly trying to hide his amusement.

Leliana ignored the Inquisitor's glib attitude and tried to remain on point. _"These...marauders have stolen an urn containing the ashes of one of the Chantry's oldest servants. We want you to return her remains to their rightful resting place."_

Josephine was completely appalled. _"Sweet Andraste. Who...could possibly have such blackness in their heart that they would steal someone's remains."_

_"I've seen many horrible things, but disturbing the rest of one of the faithful? Even the darkspawn aren't that low."_ Cassandra said angrily.

_"Even in times of war, some things must still be kept sacred."_ Cullen urged.

_"And which of these Chantry servants did these grave robbers feel the need to disturb?"_ Rajmael asked curiously.

_"...Revered Mother Amity."_ Leliana finally answered, her words were apprehensive.

The instant Rajmael's pointed ears heard that name, he hocked in his throat and spat hatefully on the ground. Everyone in the room was put off by his display, and Rajmael gave Leliana a deathly glare.

Leliana, it seemed, was unsurprised by the Inquisitor's reaction._ "Inquisitor, I know that this is a bitter subject, but..."_

_"Shut up, Leliana."_ Rajmael ordered angrily. _"You have absolutely no right to ask me this. It is beyond insulting!"_

_"I'm sorry, but who is this Revered Mother Amity?"_ Josephine asked. _"She doesn't sound like any of the saints or martyrs I am familiar with._

_"Good question. Go ahead, Leliana, tell us, who was Mothered Amity?"_ Rajmael demanded, before spitting on that name again.

Leliana sighed despondently. _"Revered Mother Amity was one of the generals who led the Exalted March against the Dales. After the war was over, she set aside her sword and bow and became a Revered Mother in the Chantry. She spent the rest of her life trying to rebuild the Dales."_

_"Yeah, after she and her army burned down our homes, our temples, anything that meant something to us, killed thousands of elves, and stole our kingdom from us, she tried to rebuild the Dales, in her image."_ Rajmael said hatefully. _"She spent the rest of her fucking life preaching that the elves were soulless heathens, that we were evil for not embracing the Maker, and that what she did was just and righteous, all the while forcing my people to forget our identity. Those statues I destroyed in the Exalted Plains? She erected them, to tell the world that elves are worthy only of contempt."_

Suddenly, Rajmael's anger became a little more understandable. It was a well known fact that Rajmael hated the Chantry, not only for what it did to him, but what it did to his people.

_"There are three names my people find the most profane."_ Rajmael continued contemptuously. _"Mother Amity, who destroyed the Dales and dared to live there like her crimes were a reward. Divine Renata, who declared the Exalted March, and destroyed all records of elves from history and art, including the Canticles of Than Shartan. And Archon Thalsian, who destroyed Arlathan. Just like how Maferath is synonymous with betrayal to you humans, these names are synonymous with genocide to my people."_

_"I understand that your recent travels in the Dales have rekindled bitter feelings with the Chantry."_ Mother Giselle said sympathetically. "And I agree; asking you to assist one who had wronged your people is unfair, but do you truly believe that acting in such a manner will help your people? If there is ever a chance to be any peace between your people and the Chantry, then there must be open minds on both sides."

"Well, isn't that the pot calling the kettle black." Rajmael shot back scornfully._ "Tell me, what has the Chantry done to make up for what it did to my people? Answer: not a damned thing, except make excuses and deny that they committed any crimes. There can never be any peace without justice, and as far as I'm concerned, this act against Mother Amity is a justice has had coming for far too long. This conversation is over. Do **NOT** bring this matter to me again."_

Rajmael turned his back and left, intending for this matter to be dead by the time he was gone.

**~XoXoXo~**

After a moment when they felt Rajmael was out of earshot, everyone started breathing a little easier. Matters between elves and the Chantry still hit a raw nerve with the Inquisitor.

_"Well, that was fun."_ Varric said sarcastically. _"One thing about the elves, they certainly know how to nurse a grudge."_

_"What's he getting so worked up about?"_ Sera asked ignorantly. "_I mean, s'not like he was the one who had his vault burned."_

_"You really do not care about anything or anyone unless it pertains to your petty cravings, do you, Sera?"_ Solas chastised. "_If someone asked you to protect the body of a noble who robbed a farmer of his home and left his children to starve, would you not be outraged?"_

As much as Sera hated listening to Solas about anything, even she couldn't deny something like that. _"Piss on that. Yeah, alright, maybe I can see what that's about."_

_"You all act as if the Inquisitor is the only one who holds on to such strong feelings towards past crimes."_ Dorian pointed out. _"You Southerners, and your Chantry, are still mad at the Imperium for killing Andraste and still blame us for the Blights. Why shouldn't the Inquisitor be angry at those who stole his people's home?"_

_"None of that excuses the Inquisitor's unacceptable behavior, especially when thousands are looking to the Inquisition to help rebuild the Chantry."_ Vivienne disapproved.

_"Doesn't it?"_ Cassandra asked, a note of guilt in her voice. _"Rajmael has spent most of his life running from the Chantry, learning of every crime it committed against his people. You all remember what he said that day back in Haven. How the Chantry stole his childhood, and what the Templars did to his god-child. I know I couldn't forgive such crimes so easily. Why should he?"_

_"But doesn't it seem like the Inquisitor is only keeping old wounds open?"_ Josephine asked.

_"Forgive me for saying this, Ambassador Montilyet, but you have no place to say such things."_ Cullen said firmly. _"You don't know what it's like to feel like everyone's against you, then get kicked while you're down and spat upon. It's something I'm familiar with, and it's a hand that the elves have been dealt for centuries."_

_"Burn him."_ Cole whispered.

Everyone turned their attention to the former Spirit of Compassion. Burn him? What was Cole talking about?

_"He has turned his back on the Maker, and his magic has been tainted by his parents' heathen ways. And even though he is but a child, he is Maleficar, and must be put to the flame to purify his soul."_ Cole's spoke in a tone that mimicked a voice of malice. _"Burn him. Burn him now!"_

_"Sweet Andraste. You're...you're speaking of when the Inquisitor was burned as a child, aren't you?"_ Cullen realized.

_"Everyone in the village came to out, but not to help him. Jeering, spitting and throwing rocks at him, they all came out to watch. He saw the Templars kicking his mother and father's severed heads around, their dead eyes still open with mud flicked on them."_ Cole's lips trembled and his face gripped with pain as if he could see what he was describing. _"Then, the Chantry Mother threw the torch on the pyre. His body caught flames, the smell of his own skin burning, his agonized screams only made the people cheer louder. They brought him pain, and stole his life. That's why he cannot forgive, why he hates so much. That's why his dreams have become nightmares."_

_"Hot damn."_ Iron Bull commented. _"And here I thought only the Vints could be that brutal."_

_"Back in Tevinter, we're taught that the Southern Chantry regularly burns mages simply for being mages."_ Dorian pointed. _"Looks like the Inquisitor has proved that little piece of propaganda correct."_

_"Such crimes are all too common in this world, but because they are always done to elves they are not important enough to be noticed."_ Solas said disdainfully.

_"Maker's balls, a whole village stood by and watched that happen?"_ Blackwall asked in disbelief._ "I'd probably be pissed at the world, too."_

_"Andraste's mercy."_ Mother Giselle breathed in both shock and shame. Too often the Chantry did little to stop those who abused the authority given to them by the Sunburst throne. And it was the Chantry that dictated that the elves must live the way they do, be treated as they are. Just one more thing in an ever piling mountain of failures the Chantry committed.

_"Everyone, please, let's stop this now."_ Cassandra beseeched calmly._ "Let's return to our duties, and try to leave this matter behind us. Leliana, send whatever people you can spare to investigate the assault on the Grand Cathedral. If the remaining clerics are to choose either of us for the Sunburst Throne, then we must be the ones to look after it."_

_"I agree."_ Leliana acknowledged._ "I will send Charter and her people. With luck, they'll be able to find something about who ransacked the vault."_

_"Rajmael has spent most of his life running from the Chantry."_ Cassandra defended._ "We cannot expect him to simply forget what was done to him. He may be the Inquisitor, but he is still mortal like the rest of us, and not all of us forgive so easily."_

_"Aw, Seeker, you called him by his real name."_ Varric pointed out slyly. _"You really do care."_

_"Keep talking, and you'll see how uncaring I can be, dwarf."_ Cassandra warned.

Everyone left to perform whatever duties they had or whatever personal pursuit struck their fancy. Cassandra felt a knot of guilt twist inside her as she walked away. Sometimes she couldn't help but feel conflicted about her feelings for Rajmael. Deep down, Cassandra knew Rajmael loved her, and it was a feeling that brought her a sense of joy and completion she never knew before. At the same time, however, she also knew in her heart that Rajmael hated the Chantry for everything it did to him and his people, and she could not blame him. Could her love for Rajmael conflict with her loyalty Chantry?

Cassandra remembered how her older brother Antony was killed by bloodmages, how her need for vengeance once consumed her. How she once thought all mages were treacherous and sought only to bring suffering to the innocent and overthrowing the Chantry. It took meeting Regalyan to maker Cassandra realize how wrong she was. Cassandra realized just then that she would do the same for Rajmael. She would show him that the Chantry didn't have to be the one he knew, the one that wronged him so terribly. The Chantry could be better, it must become better. They owed that to all the peoples of Thedas.

Leliana made her to her desk in the atrium, unable to shake what just happened from her mind. On the one hand, she wished that the Inquisitor hadn't lost his temper the way he did. On the other, she couldn't blame him. She remembered how vicious Aedan was when he learned that Arl Howe had usurped his family's title after betraying them, and how deeply he resented Loghain for betraying everything their country was supposed to uphold by collaborating with slavers. If someone had asked Aedan to do recover the ashes of Loghain or Howe, he would have acted with great hostility for such an insult.

The former Orlesian bard knew that the Chantry had done terrible things to the elves, it had done very little to endear itself to anyone who wasn't human. If there was to be any change, it needed to start with the Chantry, and if it didn't, the Chantry's existence may soon come to an end. But first the matter at hand. Who could hate the Chantry enough to want to steal an urn of ashes from the Sacred Vault?

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael was alone his quarters, kneeling before his totems to the Creators. He had hoped that by reciting what prayers he knew in elven, he might calm down after that little fiasco with Hevara. He was aware that his outburst probably lowered him in the opinion of some of his comrades, but he didn't really care. Stupid woman. Who was she to dare ask a thing of him? Find Mother Amity's ashes? He'd rather shake the hands of the people who did it. Just thinking about it made his blood boil. He tried to push it out of his mind and focus on his prayers.

Just then he heard a gentle knocking on his door. Judging from the rhythm of the rapping, and the scent of spiced perfume, it had to have been Josephine.

_"Come in."_ Rajmael called.

Sure enough, it was Josephine, and her spiced perfume, clipboard and quill in hand. She had that "something important needs your attention" look on her face. It must have been important if she came all the way to his room to tell him herself.

"_Pardon my intrusion, but_ _Marquis Briala of the Dales has arrived at Skyhold and she is requesting a personal audience with you, your lordship."_ Josephine answered. _"She says she has an urgent matter that needs your attention. She is waiting for you in the War Room."_

That was indeed a surprise, although maybe not the most welcoming kind. Rajmael's would have to continue his prayers later. If Briala was here in person, then that could only mean that there was something terrible and very sensitive was going on. But, hey, anything beats what Mother Hevara wanted him to do.

**~XoXoXo~**

Three elven ladies-in-waiting were standing outside the War Room where Briala and Rajmael's councilors were waiting. As an official noble of Orlais, it was expected for Briala to have attendants waiting on her, and given the fact that Briala commands and army of spies, Rajmael had no doubt that these ladies were probably as deadly as they were lovely. When the three attendants saw the Inquisitor coming they all smiled and curtsied to him, and giggled when Rajmael returned the gesture. Blonde, raven and redhead, with the loveliest elven eyes. If Rajmael wasn't in a committed relationship with Cassandra, he'd have shown these stunning City Elves some of the "ancient elven secrets" he knew. But, alas, it was not to be.

Briala was overlooking the War Map, inspecting some of the Inquisition's operations and how far they had spread. Rajmael couldn't believe Briala was actually wearing one of those stupid Orlesian styled masks. It wasn't the same one she wore to the Winter Palace Ball, after gaining nobility status Briala was now entitled to wearing the mask and cosmetics expected of a noble lady. Rajmael found such things to be utterly ridiculous and slightly retarded.

"_Greetings Inquisitor Lavellan."_ Briala greeted politely.

"_Marquis Briala."_ Rajmael nodded. _"Must you wear that thing? We are not in the Orlesian Court, and I prefer to speak face to face."_

"_Oh, I forgot it was even there. In Orlesian culture it considered to better to be without cloths than without a mask."_ Briala said as she removed the mask from her face and gently set it down on the War Table.

"_And in my culture we're taught only cowards wear masks."_ Rajmael stated disdainfully. _"What is so important that the new Marquis of the Dales would actually come to meet me in person?"_

Briala had a serious look in her eye. _"I assume you've heard of the so-called Freeman of the Dales, Your Worship?"_

"_Deserters from both sides of Celene and Gaspard's little spat, now they're trying to take the Dales for themselves. I've…encountered them before, yes."_

"_And you've done nothing to destroy their operations?"_ Briala asked incredulously.

"_Marquis Briala, I've got ten different operation in three countries to oversee, a possible border war between Nevarra and Tevinter brewing….Oh, and a cult of Tevinter mages, and templar lunatics hopped on red lyrium serving a Blighted Tevinter madman with aspirations of conquest and godhood!"_ Rajmael listed agitatedly. _"So you'll have to forgive me if I decide that a bunch of wusses from the Orlesian army have decided they're tired of fighting and dying for a bunch of Orlesian pricks in a war they have nothing to gain from are low on my list of priorities. And besides, as Marquis of the Dales, isn't the security of the Dales your responsibility?"_

"_You have all these responsibilities, yet you'll take the time to gallivant in elven ruins right in the middle of the Dales?"_ Briala stated.

"_I don't owe an explanation, least of all to you. What I do, and who I do it for, is none of your damned business, Marquis."_ Rajmael retorted sternly. _"The only one I answer to is Dirthamen."_

Briala slowly exhaled. She had to be patient with the Inquisitor_. "You helped make me the Marquis of the Dales, Inquisitor. You could have chosen not to, or you could have told Celene that Gaspard and I were conspiring together and she would have believed you, but you didn't. You helped me because you believed I could help our people. Well, now I need the Inquisition's aid or our people are going to suffer."_

Rajmael actually believed Briala was being sincere with him, but what did she mean? _"What are you talking about, Briala?"_

"_A week ago, a garrison of Chevaliers overseeing the surrender of Duke Gaspard's forces was attacked. The assault happened in the dead of night and about a dozen Chevaliers were slain before the assassin was discovered. It was an elf."_ Briala finally answered.

That surprised everyone in the room. Rajmael could hardly believe his own pointy ears. _"A single elf slew a dozen Chevaliers? I don't know if I should worried or impressed. Actually, I'd like to find that guy and give him a medal."_

"_You'll have to present it to him after they're done finding all the scattered pieces of him."_ Briala continued. _"When the soldiers finally cornered him, he exploded in ball of red flame that killed all the soldiers surrounding him."_

"_He had some kind of bomb on him?"_

"_From what the reports say, the elf started screaming in pain before any of the soldiers even touched him, then he started glowing as if there were a fire burning inside him, and then he exploded like Qunari black powder."_ Briala explained. _"The resulting explosion killed the soldier trying to apprehend him."_

"_Dear Andraste!"_ Josephine gasped. _"What could do that to a man, and who would be so vile as to visit it upon him?"_

"_Some kind of biological proxy? A new kind of weapon?"_ Cullen suggested.

"_There's more."_ Briala spoke_. "Over the past few weeks several prominent Orlesian families have just died, even the children. Poison seems to be the likely scenario. All these families had friends who cared for them and rivals who hated them, and now both sides are readying to come to blows. But the other suspects that many are starting to blame are the elven servants. While whole families died, the elves left the houses completely unharmed. Many are now looking to the elves, and by extension me as the culprit of these attacks. This could start another civil war in Orlais. Either Orlais' nobility begins fighting each other in various vendettas, or they blame the elves. I cannot allow that to happen after all that's been achieved."_

The situation was sounding direr the more Briala explained it to them.

"_And what does this have to do with the Freeman of the Dales?"_ Leliana asked.

"_The Freeman are the only people with anything to gain from a disorganized Orlais, and from what I've gathered, you've discovered that they were allied with this Venatori cult. Perhaps this is another attempt to keep Orlais warring with itself."_ Briala suggested.

"_The Freeman are a bunch of racist pricks and former Chevaliers. I doubt they and the elves would be working together."_ Rajmael stated.

"_With this alliance they have with the Venatori and access to red lyrium, perhaps the Freeman are using the elves as a new weapon. As living bombs to infiltrate Orlesian strongholds?"_ Cullen suggested.

"_Given what red lyrium has done to the templars and the magic the Venatori possess, I wouldn't rule out that possibility."_ Cassandra concurred.

"_Marquis Briala, is there any other clues or information you can give us?"_ Josephine asked.

"_This was discovered at the campsite where that elven assassin died. Somehow it survived the suicide bombing."_ Briala placed an object wrapped in clothe and slid it over to the Inquisitor_. "This was the weapon he used to slay all those men."_

Rajmael unwrapped the parcel and it was unlike any weapon the Cassadra had ever seen. It was some sort of sickle type weapon with a wide, double edged, moderately curved crescent blade and had a small chain loop at the end of the handle with a broken length of rope hanging from it. It was the length of a short sword which made it ideal for close quarters, but unlike the farming implement, this sickle had a thickness and heft to it that made it a weapon, not a harvest tool. In the right hands it could certainly be a devastating weapon. Cassandra noticed the shocked, bewildered look in Rajmael's eyes as he held the weapon in his hand.

"_This….This is the weapon that…elven assassin used to attack that army camp? You are absolutely certain, Briala?"_ Rajmael asked like he had seen a ghost.

"_My people recovered it from the site where the battle took place. No one else has seen it."_ Briala assured.

Rajmael looked at the recurved saber as though it had offended him, and Cassandra knew his mind was set. _"Vir…Banal'ras."_ He whispered.

"_What did you say, Inquisitor?"_ Cassandra asked. His voice was so low she doubted anyone heard what he said.

"_Cassandra, get everyone ready. We are heading back to the Emerald Graves. Immediately."_ Rajmael ordered.

"_Wait. I'm going with you."_ Briala wasn't asking.

"_And why is that?"_ Rajmael questioned.

"_As you said, I am the Marquis of the Dales and it is my responsibility to look after it."_ Briala answered. _"If someone is using elves as weapons to start another war in Orlais, then it is my duty to help you."_

"_Well, I hope you've kept your bardic skills sharp since you became a politician. Because the assholes we fight aren't the same as Orlesian throat-slitters and fancy Chevaliers."_ Rajmael warned.

**~XoXoXo~**

The Inquisitor and his company, along with Marquis Briala made their way back to one of their encampment in the Emerald Graves, hopefully Scout Harding could give them some kind of lead. This was the place to find out the connection between the Freeman of the Dales, elven suicide bombers and that strange weapon. Cassandra wasn't the only one who noticed the distracted and bewildered look that plagued Rajmael ever since he got his hand on that strange sickle-like weapon. It was like he had seen some kind of ghost.

"_Scout Harding, did you find anything?" _Rajmael asked.

"_I set to work as soon as I got your message. Found someone here in the Emerald Graves by the name of Fairbanks."_ The dwarven scout answered. _"He might be able to help you with these Freeman of the Dales."_

"_What can you tell me about this Fairbanks?"_

"_That's the interesting part, we didn't find Fairbanks, he found us."_ Harding answered. _"He and his men appeared shortly after the war started. It seems they're trying to help people displaced by the war, and he won't share his information with anyone but you. Fairbanks and his people are camped nearby. And watch your back, Inquisitor. The Freeman are crawling around this place like cockroaches."_

Rajmael led his company to the refugee camp. They were defensible enough her in a narrow crag between two stone hills. But none of these people were soldiers; most of them were peasants who'd never even touched a weapon. If any real soldiers came marching through here these people wouldn't last very long.

"_Ugh! These people are filthy. Living like animals in a cave."_ Vivienne wrinkled her nose in disgust and placed a hanky over it.

"_Not everyone has the luxury of living in a well-furnished mansion with servants to tend our every need, Enchanter."_ Solas said with a disapproving tone. _"Most people actually live in the real world."_

"_Says the man who's spent most of his life in the dream world."_ Vivienne balked.

"_I wonder how many poor souls have been displaced because of wars between nobles." _Blackwall sympathized. _"No matter who wins, the commonfolk always lose."_

"_This is why all nobles are shits."_ Sera snorted.

"_They wander, lost, frightened, angry. Looking for a place to be safe, wanting to go home."_ Cole informed forlornly as he felt the emotions of the refugees.

"_This reminds me of that one place in Seheron. A great big refugee camp where people from all the fighting went. Some got so pissed with the Arigena they either joined up with the Tal-Vashoth or the Fog Warriors."_ Iron Bull reminisced.

"_These people got the same shitty deal half of Kirkwall suffered."_ Varric sighed_. "But at least when we clear out the Freeman, most of these people will have a home to get back to. Most of Lowtown can't say that."_

"_At least they have someone looking after them. That's better than the many who're wandering around aimlessly without protection."_ Dorian said sympathetically.

A man in his early to mid-forties with dark hair, a sharp nose and rough, speckled hair over his narrow chin and a scar over his right eye approached the Inquisitor. He wore light Orlesian style leather meant more for hunting than for combat, and was armed with a simple saber and dagger. There was weariness to him but everyone in the camp showed him great respect.

"_So you're the Herald of Andraste. I am Fairbanks, it's an honor to make your acquaintance."_ The man greeted politely with a thick Orlesian accent.

"_I always love to make a good first impression."_ Rajmael said as he shook the man's hand.

"_After what I heard you did to that bastard Gordian in the Exalted Plains, I'd say you're off to a good start in my books, Inquisitor. It is humbling to meet the Inquisitor and the new Marquis of the Dales both in one day."_ Fairbanks admitted as he looked as Briala.

"_You know who I am?"_ Briala asked curiously.

"_The first elf to rule the Dales in eight hundred years? That is something most people would not miss."_ Fairbanks answered. _"I can't imagine many of those noble cretins in Val Royeaux are too pleased, but there are more elves in the Dales than the rest of the empire, it only makes sense to have an elf represent them."_

Both Briala and Rajmael were surprised to hear a human say that. But then this is a man who risking his life to aid total strangers and make sure they're looked after even with an enemy like the Freeman of the Dales attacking him.

Fairbanks invited them into his camp and offered them some ale as they sat. It was cheap, bitter stuff, probably bummed off some battlefield or traded from some cheap merchant, but it was all they had, and Rajmael gladly accepted.

"_What can you tell us about the Freeman of the Dales?"_ Rajmael finally asked.

Fairbanks finished his drink and sighed wearily. _"When my cousin and I quarrel, some heated words are exchanged, wine is spilt and maybe someone loses a tooth, but it doesn't leave our doorstep. When Celene feuded with her cousin, the nation bled. Who cares who sits on a fancy throne with a jeweled crown, when it's all over these people still must till the soil and harvest the crops to feed this empire, but no monarch ever gives them consideration."_

"_We are here about the Freeman, not the concerns of the peasantry."_ Vivienne stated impatiently.

"_I don't remember anyone speaking to you, or asking for your input Vivienne."_ Rajmael said with annoyance. _"Just go back over there, keep your mouth shut. The grownups are trying to have a conversation."_

The Imperial Enchanter pursed her lips in disapproval and her eyes shot an angry glance behind Rajmael's back.

"_These Freeman are all soldiers tired of bleeding and dying for a war that they have no stake in, so they left."_ Fairbanks continued. _"At first I sympathized with them, but then they started talking about wanting to carve the Dales out for themselves, start a new kingdom. And then they started forcing people to aid them under threats of death, and then forcing them to work like slaves. I refused to give them any more aid and now they attack me and my people, and they won't stop until we're dead. And now they're allied with the Red Templars"_

"_Bah! They claim to want their freedom and then they turn to murder as if it were nothing. Now they serve those blasphemous traitors. Disgusting."_ Cassandra spat.

"_Even before the Red Templars showed up, these Freeman were formidable."_ Blackwall reminded_. "Who leads them?"_

"_That would be the so-called General Maliphant."_ Fairbanks answered with anger. _"He was a high ranking officer in the Imperial army. At first I thought he was just trying to look after his men, but he's still a Chevalier in his heart. All commoners and peasantfolk are trash to him. And then there's his liuetenants, Maker take them. There's Ser Auguste, a deluded Chevalier who thinks serving Maliphant's will somehow bring him honor. 'Sister' Costeau, she's convinced herself of the righteousness of their cause she'd burn an orphanage and tell herself it was a good deed. And then there's Commander Duhaime."_ Fairbanks spat on the ground as if just saying that name tasted like shit. _"He's Maliphant's animal! The worst excuse for a living being. Thief, murderer, rapist. I don't know what the Maker was thinking when he a man as vile as that."_

A despicable as these people sounded, there was another matter on Rajmael's mind_. "Have…have you ever seen elves fighting alongside these people?"_

"_Is that a joke, Your Worship?" _Fairbanks asked with a dumbfounded look. _"The Freeman of the Dales fighting alongside elves? I'll sooner believe fish can fly! No, Inquisitor. General Maliphant is still the same Chevalier bastard he's always been, and your people are considered less than the peasants to him. He'd sooner kill an elf than fight alongside one. No offense intended."_

"_None taken."_ Rajmael responded.

"_Inquisitor, please you must help us."_ Fairbanks pleaded_. "The people I look after are simple, they know nothing of warfare or fighting, and the Freeman hound us like we're the enemy. And that damned Sister Costeau has captured almost half my people and is slaving them in the nearby veridium mine. That woman's soul is as empty as the Void, she'll end killing all of them. We cannot abandon them."_

"_I promise I will get your people back."_ Rajmael swore.

**~XoXoXo~**

The others didn't notice it, but as Rajmael led them out of Fairbanks' camp and towards the direction of the veridium mine, Cassandra and Briala noticed that look on The Inquisitor's face that stayed there since he asked if elves were involved with the Freeman. Instead of finding answers, all Fairbanks told them was what the Inquisition already knew, and where to find these men. It would seem Rajmael was more concerned about the possibility of elven involvement than the fact that they now had the locations to all the leading members of this terrorist group.

Briala saw the necklace around Cassandra's neck, the one the old cook told her about back at the Winter Palace, and it was indeed elven. If the story she heard was correct, such an item was a sign of love. How strange that a Seeker of the Chantry would accept such an item from a Dalish elf and wear it with such pride. But then again, who was she to judge, given who she loved and how much pain that had brought.

The new Marquis of the Dales wondered how this incredibly diverse group of highly trained killers and members of the social elite followed this Dalish elf with a sense of respect. Even Enchanter Vivienne seemed to watch how she acted in his presence. Briala noticed that sword strapped to his hip, the same one he used to split Gaspard's head in half. She had seen mages fight before, but she didn't think any of them were capable of fighting like warriors, and Rajmael not only fought, he fought masterfully.

They were now close to the Veridium mine; they had to be careful. This Sister Costeau would most likely have guards posted outside the mine. Rajmael signaled them to wait and instructed Sera and Varric to scout ahead and make sure their way was clear. They scouted ahead for less than two minutes before coming back.

"_Uh…Inquisitor. I think you guys need to come see this."_ Varric beckoned apprehensively.

"_And bring a bucket! Maker knows I need one right now."_ Sera called.

They came to the entrance of the mine and found what was causing Varric and Sera to look a little green with illness. There were guards posted outside the mine alright, but instead of standing their post they were littered all over the ground with their intestines hanging out and their throats sliced wide open. There were no signs of a struggle, these men were completely unaware of their killers' presence.

The inside of the mine was no better; actually it was worse. Limbless bodies littered the mine floor, their disembodied hands still clenching their weapons and looks of terror were frozen on their severed heads. There wasn't an inch of floor that wasn't wet with Orlesian blood in this cave.

"_Sweet Andraste."_ Cassandra gasped.

"_Ashante kaffas."_ Dorian choked back. _"I can feel this morning's breakfast making a comeback."_

"_Vashedan."_ Iron Bull gawked_. "Haven't seen anything like this outside of a Tal-Vashoth raid."_

"_Maker's balls. What could have done this?"_ Blackwall gasped as he looked at the pile of dismembered bodies.

"_Something inhuman."_ Vivienne answered from behind her handkerchief, trying not to gag.

"_Or someone with a lot of anger."_ Solas suggested.

"_They didn't know what happened. All they felt was fear, then pain. And then nothing."_ Cole spoke as he looked at the bodies.

"_Over here! I found Fairbanks' people!"_ Varric called. The refugees were all huddled in a corner of a cell, on their knees and the fetal position shaking with fright. Varric picked the lock and tried to approach the prisoners. _"Hey, hey it's all over now."_ Varric tried to assure.

"_Please! Please! Don't hurt us! We'll do what you say!"_ One of the refugees wailed.

"_Easy!"_ Rajmael bade_. "No one is going to hurt you. Fairbanks sent us here to save you."_

"_Oh, thank the Maker!"_ One of the women sobbed frantically_. "After what happened to the Freeman I thought for sure we were next."_

"_Who are you? What are you doing here?"_ Rajmael asked caringly.

"_M-my n-name is Gertude."_ The woman wept with fright in her eyes. _"We're apart of Fairbanks' camp. The Freeman caught us when I led them to find more food, it was foolish, I know, but we were running low on supplies. They were forcing us to mine the veridium here."_

"_What happened in here?"_

Gertude sniffled and tried to fight back the tears in her eyes. _"Wh-when the Freeman found their men outside dead, Sister Costeau ordered her men to form a defensive position. We heard something in the darkness, like a lash whipping in the shadows. Something grabbed Costeau and began attacking her men, they began cutting pieces off the guards from the shadows. We huddled in the corner hoping whatever was out here would ignore us."_

"_Did you see who attacked Sister Costeau?"_ Rajmael continued.

Gertrued was shaking uncontrollably with fear, her eyes were wide with terrified tears trickling from them. _"No! We could only heard her scream! Even after her men were killed, she kept screaming and screaming! All we could do was pray as we heard her scream, and her flesh was torn!"_ Gertrude instinctively held Rajmael and wailed hysterically as sobs wracked her body. _"The only thing I saw were those eyes. Those horrible eyes that were burning in the dark. Like coals in a furnace."_

Rajmael did his best to try and comfort the woman, but whatever she saw traumatized her_. "The way is safe. Go back to Fairbanks, he'll keep you safe."_

Gertrude and the other prisoners made their way out of the cave as fast as they could, wanting to leave this horrible place forever.

"_Captured by Freeman to be slaves and narrowly evaded the attention of whatever it is that killed these sods."_ Varric sighed. _"The Maker's mercy is a twisted thing."_

"_Has anyone actually seen what happened to Sister Costeau?" _Cassandra asked.

"_I found what I think is left of Sister Costeau."_ Blackwall called.

Like her men, Costeau's hands and feet had been but off. Unlike the others, Costeau's body wasn't on the floor. It was pinned to the roof of the mine, impaled upon stalactites. What was supposed to be her face was noseless, eyeless and all the flesh had been stripped from her skull. But most noticeably, her intestines, stomach and spleen were hanging out of her split abdomen like party streamers.

Sera puked at the site of the disemboweled woman pinned to the roof like a butterfly, and it looked Dorian and Varric were going to join her.

"_As vile as this woman was, she didn't deserve to die in such a horrible manner."_ Cassandra commented.

"_I wonder if her victims would agree with you." _Solas replied.

Unlike the others who stared in horror and bewilderment, Briala noticed that the Inquisitor was staring at the deceased chevalier's body with…acknowledgement? Like he wasn't at all surprised by how these people died. Was he familiar with this brand of brutality?

They looked around the mine for anything of use, and cleared out of there before someone else lost their lunch in that confined killing field.

"_Hey! Look at this. Seems like this bitch wasn't the only one with problem going on."_ Iron Bull handed Rajmael some paper. Correspondence from her fellow Freeman.

Apparently, after the Freeman's epic failure to stop the Inquisition's interference, and failing to kill the Herald, the Venatori cut all ties with the Freeman and were no longer supplying them. Hence their desperation to mine this veridium. The interesting part however, was that Maliphant himself was calling back all his men to the Villa Maurel. Apparently, someone had been picking the Freeman off all over the Dales, always striking them from the shadows and leaving a trail of dismembered bodies in their wake, and now the Freeman's numbers were dwindling. But the final straw was when Ser Auguste and all his men were murdered in their own lodge. They were found impaled upon massive spikes going up their asses and out of their mouths, and Ser Auguste was found nailed to a tree with his genitals burned off and his tongue hanging out of a new slit in his throat.

"_Someone's got General Maliphant scared. Maybe we can use him to give us information about the Venatori, and these mystery terrorists."_ Iron Bull suggested.

"_An excellent idea, dear Iron Bull."_ Vivienne complimented.

"_Bad idea. Traitors can't be trusted."_ Blackwall reminded scornfully.

"_Yeah! We can't make friends with pricks like them!"_ Sera agreed firmly.

"_The first thing we should do before we consider anything else is apprehending this Maliphant."_ Cassandra reminded. _"Given how desperate he is, I doubt he'll make this easy."_

"_And if we find him, maybe we'll find out who these mysterious assassins are."_ Solas affirmed.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael and his companions made their way to Villa Maurel ready for a tough fight. The only one of Maliphant's officers who remained was Duhaime, the most vicious and brutal of the Freeman and his elite soldiers. But when they arrived at the entrance to the once abandoned mansion, all they found was yet another killing field. Once again, these mystery assassins took one step ahead of them.

Unlike the other site where Sister Costeau and her men were butchered like sheep, these Freemans' bodies were still whole, but from the way they laid on the ground, they still died in horrible agony.

They found the body of a man so large, with a nearby axe that was so brutal, and his armor so vicious and gaudy, that it had to be Duhaime. His helmet was torn off his head, revealing his ugly face frozen in horrid agony. His eyes bulged out of their sockets, and so badly agitated that blood was still seeping out. Duhaime's face was covered in a horrible rash that cracked all seven layers of skin. Even his mouth was still spewing up blood and bile out from between his locked jaw. Duhaime's powerful hands were wrapped around his own neck with his fingertips digging deeply into his flesh, as if he tried to claw out his own throat. This killing field was different, yet somehow familiar.

"_Hey, check out these bodies. Is anyone else having a case of déjà vu?" Iron Bull asked._

"_Hurgh! Not again!"_ Sera went green and puked all over the ground. Again.

"_These people began breathing in something that hurt them. Their insides were torn and bled, and they died drowning in their own blood."_ Cole said sympathetically_. "They brought pain to others, and they died in worse pain."_

"_This is almost just like that time the Inquisitor slew a whole cave full of bloodmages by throwing a sack full of burning rashvine into their lair."_ Solas reminded.

"_I don't think I was there for that…particular piece of fun."_ Dorian said as he held back his gag reflex.

"_It was certainly a brutal, even barbaric tactic, but an efficient one."_ Vivienne commented as she looked away from the Duhaime's mutilated carcass.

"_Where did you learn such a sadistic tactic anyway, Rajmael?"_ Blackwall inquired.

Rajmael couldn't tak his eyes off of Duhaime's wretched corpse. There was no sympathy found on his face, but there was a look of…familiarity in his eyes. _"My brother, Nethras. He taught it to me. He would use it to clear out giant spiders and other intruders out of ancient ruins. The best way to clear out vermin, he said." _

"_And, apparently, he was right."_ Cassandra confirmed. _"Quickly! If these men are dead already, then they must already be inside. Maybe we can catch them before they get away again!"_

**~XoXoXo~**

They entere Villa Muarel expecting to find Freeman soldiers ready for a fight, or a house full of blood, given what has been happening to them. But instead found the place quiet as a grave and not a single guard standing anywhere. They moved as quietly as possible, not wanting to alert the Freeman if they were still alive, or the assassins if they were even here.

Soon enough, they found General Maliphant and all his men in the courtyard. And all their pieces of them that were laying around.

"_Oh, for love of…Hurkghle!"_ Sera screamed as she ran around the corner and puked. Again.

"_This reoccurring theme is really starting to lose its flavor."_ Iron Bull groaned.

"_If they have to butcher these people so heinously, can't they at least make it so no one can find their bodies?"_ Dorian gagged.

"_Getting so much blood on such lovely flooring is the real crime here."_ Vivienne commented.

"_Andraste's flaming knickers!"_ Varric swore_. "I can't unsee any of this. Maker's breath, this is going to give me nightmares."_

"_There are just some things that are completely unnecessary!"_ Blackwall cursed.

"_Why not just kill them? Who would go through all this trouble?"_ Cassandra asked as she blanched.

"_Someone with a grudge, Seeker."_ Briala answered.

"_Oh…"_ Sera groaned. _"I don't think my gut can take any more of this icky, grossness."_

"_Hey, look over there!"_ Iron Bull pointed. _"It's a pile of mangled dicks!"_

And with that Sera, Dorian, and Varric projectile vomited their meals from the past week.

The bodies of all the remaining Freeman were hanging upside down all around the courtyard. Their heads and hands were sliced off, the blood from their severed arteries was trickling on to the lake of crimson that now pooled on the tiled floor. The heads were all missing, no sign of them anywhere. But the hands were all piled around a stone slab in the middle of the courtyard around Maliphant's eviscerated body.

The now deceased General of the Freeman was tethered to the slab by his arms, legs and neck, his armor was stripped from his body. The skin was flayed from his chest, his abdomen was cut open and his ribs were broken outward, showing off what innards remained in his body. Not only were his intestines hanging out, but his spleen, one of his kidneys, and finally his lungs and heart. Someone pulled Maliphant's organs out of his body, one by one. The most gut wrenching bit, however, was that mashed up, pulpy mass between his legs where his penis used to be.

But while everyone else was staring at Maliphant's body, Rajmael was staring at the stone slab his body was tied to. There was some sort of glyph on it, some form of elven.

"_Elgar'nan…enansal."_ Rajmael whispered in disbelief. He wasn't paying attention if anyone was listening to him. _"There's nothing else for us here. Let's get back to Fairbanks."_

**~XoXoXo~**

Fairbanks was more than happy to have his people back, and just as happy to hear that the Maliphant and his officers were finally dead. They had caused Fairbanks and his people no end of grief. Rajmael sent word back to Skyhold and had Josephine send relief efforts to aid Fairbanks and the other refugees. He was surprised to see Mother Giselle amongst the Inquisition relief. Giselle said this was the best place for her because she started her life as a Chantry Mother administering faith and aid to those suffering in the Dales.

"_I am pleased that we were able to aid Fairbanks' people, but I'm still concerned about who killed the Freeman in the first place."_ Cassandra stated with just concern. _"We still have no idea who they are."_

"_Indeed. Such dangerous individuals can't be allowed to just run around unchecked."_ Vivienne agreed. _"It is imperative that we find out what they're after."_

"_Maybe they were just professionals?"_ Iron Bull suggested. _"Maybe a third party hired them to take out the Freeman?"_

"_Wouldn't it be better to let sleeping dogs lie, Seeker?"_ Varric asked hopefully.

"_I'm with our residential scoundrel on this one."_ Dorian agreed. _"I certainly don't want to get on their bad side by going after them."_

"_See, Sparkler here knows what I'm talking about." _Varric continued. _"I mean these people can't be all bad, they just wiped out all those Freeman bastards for us. And besides, we don't have anything to go on. We've got no idea who they were or what they want."_

"_I think someone here already knows."_ Briala pointed out. Her eye turned towards the Inquisitor accusingly. _"You've been acting strange ever since I handed you that weapon. You've seen it before, haven't you? And you recognized how all those Freeman were butchered. You know who's behind this, don't you?"_ There was an angry glare in the elven Marquis' eye.

Everyone looked to the Inquisitor curiously. Did he truly know what was going, and chose not to tell them?

Rajmael sighed deeply. There was no point in hiding anything from his comrades. The forlorn look on his face was almost foreign to his companions. _"I…I had hoped that this was all just another tale my hahren spoke of to warn the young of my tribe. But after what I saw today, I cannot hope for that any longer. Especially after you handed me that weapon, Briala." _

"_So you know who's behind this?"_ Cassandra asked. She was almost hurt that he didn't tell her, especially after all they had seen today.

"_Amongst the Dalish, there are three paths that we choose to follow."_ Rajmael informed_. "The Vir Tanadhal, the Way of Trees, taught to us by Andruil, teaches our hunters to respect nature, work together and be resolute in our purpose. The Vir Atish'an, the Way of Peace, is the path of the healer, the mender and the midwife, set down to us by Sylaise the Hearth-Keeper. And then there's the Vir Sulevanan, the Way of Service. It teaches us to be fair in all our dealings with The People and with nature."_

"_I've heard of these tenants the Dalish elves live by, though I never quite understood their meaning."_ Cassandra said.

"_So what does this elfy crap have to do with those baddies who killed those other baddies?"_ Sera asked in annoyance.

Rajmael shot an aggravated look at Sera. _"Because, you twit, there's a fourth path, one that is rarely spoken of, one that many of my people fear: The Vir Banal'ras...the Way of Shadow."_ Rajmael spoke the word as though it were a curse, and there was a sense of dread in his voice. _"It was set down to us by Elgar'nan, the All-Father. And elves who follow this path, dedicate themselves purely to vengeance, seeking the blood and death from all those who wronged them. And thus was born the legends of Dalish Assassins."_

"_Dalish assassins?"_ Vivienne laughed haughtily. _"Surely, you must be joking darling. Who's ever heard of such a thing?"_

"_The best kind of assassins are the ones you never hear of, unlike the Antivan Crows, the Ben-Hessrath and the Orlesian Bards."_ Rajmael pointed. _"Because every kill they make is a perfect assassination. Like that time they killed that Antivan queen."_

Vivienne quirked in eyebrow in disbelief. _"What Antivan queen?"_

"_Exactly, bitch!" _Rajmael hollered.

"_I hate to contradict you, Rajmael, but those killing fields we saw weren't exactly subtle." _Dorian pointed out.

"_But you never would have expected elves to have killed them, or be able to elude us."_ Rajmael countered. _"They left absolutely no trace."_

"_If these Dalish assassins are so rare, how do you know about them?"_ Blackwall asked.

"_Because of this."_ Rajmael brandished the sickle to all his party members, Cassandra noticed that he reattached a length of chain to the handle.

_"Never seen anything like that before."_ Blackwall spoke.

_"It looks more like a farming tool than a killing impliment."_ Vivienne commented.

_"If it's sharp and pointy, it can be used to kill." _Iron Bull stated as fact.

_"In the proper hands, it can probably do much damage."_ Said Solas.

_"Reminds me of some of the blades they used to peddle down in Darktown."_ Varric remembered.

"_That! That little elfy thing is a weapon?!"_ Sera mocked.

Rajmael didn't appreciate Sera's tone. So he grabbed the chain and threw the sickle at a nearby Andrastian statue and caught it by the neck. Then he pulled Andraste's head right off and easily caught the sickle in his hand. Andraste's head landed right on Sera's foot, causing her to yell in pain and hop on one leg like an idiot.

"_These are the weapons of the Vir Banal'ras. They're called the Bora'nan: Flying Vengeance. They are used to sever limbs, tear open the body, and be thrown from a distance to catch and disable the target. It's also perfect for parrying and catching an enemy's weapon to disarm them." _Rajmael explained. _"I've only ever seen this weapon once. My brother, Nethras, had an ancestor who walked the Vir Banal'ras, and he used this weapon when he hunted."_

Now Cassandra understood what Rajmael's concern was_. "You were hoping that it was the Freeman of the Dales who were attacking the Orlesian nobility and army. You were hoping your people weren't involved."_

"_But now you know that this…Vir Banal'ras is real, and they are up to something."_ Solas added.

"_Yes."_ Rajmael confirmed. "_If the Vir Banal'ras is active and in unknown numbers, they could cause great damage."_

"_They could undo everything you and I have accomplished for the elves of Orlais."_ Briala dreaded. _"The attacks on the nobles, suicide bombing the Imperial Army? It could turn everyone against us."_

"_We still don't know if it was actually the Vir Banal'ras behind those attacks, or if it was the Venatori."_ Rajmael reminded. _"But we must discover what they may be up to. They're too dangerous to be left alone if they're this active."_

"_Do you have any idea where could we even start?"_ Briala asked.

Rajmael thought for a brief moment. There was only one place where they might find a clue_. "The old Temple of Elgar'nan."_

**~XoXoXo~**

On the very fringes of Halamshiral's borders stood the ruins of the ancient temple that was built by the elves when they ruled the Dales. All that remained of this once tall and proud palace-like temple were charred, ruined walls and pillar that were being overgrown with ivy, and being reclaimed by the forest. But even in this advanced state of rot and destruction, this temple was still a sight to behold.

Night had fallen, and rain began to fall from the sky. As they walked the broken paths and ruined ramparts, they could all feel a sense of foreboding hanging in the air.

"_Does anyone else feel that?" _Cassandra asked as she felt a chill run up her spine. "_I feel like I'm walking over someone's grave."_

"_You're not far from the truth Cassandra." _Rajmael answered scornfully as he looked upon the ruins. _"During the Exalted March on the Dales, the Chantry rounded up every elven man, woman and child that refused to accept the Chantry's terms of surrender. Then they burned them and all elven priests alive in this temple, to purify their tainted souls."_

"_No…no that can't be true. The Chantry would never do that."_ Cassandra denied. She refused to believe the Chantry could do something so horrible.

"_The Chantry wanted to destroy any evidence of the elves' accomplishment and their own crimes."_ Solas reminded_. "After what you discovered about your own Order, can you really be surprised, Seeker?"_

"_The only reason why elves are treated like shit is because the Chantry set the standard."_ Rajmael reminded.

"_What are we doing in some creepy elf ruin anyway?"_ Sera asked nervously.

"_On that slab where Maliphant was killed was elven runes that said 'Elgar'nan enansal'. Elgar'nan's blessing."_ Rajmael answered_. "The Vir Banal'ras was founded by the teachings of Elgar'nan, and this temple was dedicated to him. We may be able to find a clue here."_

"_No one ever travels here for fear of angry elven spirits and curses."_ Briala added. _"It would also make for a good hideout."_

As they reach the entrance to the ruined temple, Rajmael noticed a mosaic on the wall with the image of the Creators. Even after eight hundred years this tribute still stood proudly. Rajmael knelt before the image of his gods to offer a prayer.

"_Is now really the time for praying, Inquisitor?"_ Vivienne asked condescendingly.

"_This is still a temple, and the spirits of my ancestors who died for their faith rest here."_ Rajmael answered with a glare. _"Offerings to the gods cannot be ignored."_ Rajmael reached into his pocket and pulled out the seeds he always kept. As he grew the blue rose in his hand, he noticed something. There was already several blue roses resting before the gods. Rajmael picked one up and looked at it.

"_No. That's not possible."_ Rajmael whispered. He noticed that the moss at the base of the mural had been disturbed. He pulled it back and was horrified by his discovery. All the head of Maliphant's men were laying before the gods like some kind of offering.

Rajmael's eyes went wide with shock. He realized it all too late. _"Everyone! Get out! __**IT'S A TRAP!"**_

But it was too late. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as the chains flew from the shadows and pulled Sera into the darkness screaming.

"_Sera!"_ Iron Bull yelled. He grabbed his axe and stood his ground ready for anything. The chains flew at the Qunari and wrapped around his horns, and pulled the massive mercenary away. _**"SHIII-IIIT!"**_ Iron Bull screamed as he was dragged into the shadows.

The chains flew at Dorian, Vivienne, and Solas grabbing them by necks, wrists and ankles. They pulled so hard the tension threatened to dislocate their limbs and breaks their necks, forcing them to drop their staves, and stopped them from saying a spell. The mages were completely neutralized.

Cassandra, Blackwall and Varric stood back to back with their shields facing forward. They weren't going to get caught from behind. More chains flew at them from nowhere and everywhere. The chains pulled Bianca from Varric's hands, and caught The Seeker and The Warden by their ankles, and pulled their feet out from under them. A group of elves jumped out of the darkness with arrows trained on all three of them.

Four more elves materialized out of nowhere and surrounded Briala. They motioned her to drop her stilettos. She knew they could have killed her if they wanted, but instead wanted her surrender. Briala reluctantly complied. It was that or be turned into a pin cushion.

The Inquisitor couldn't believe his eyes, the Vir Banal'ras actually existed. Everything happened so fast Rajmael barely had time to react. He stood his sword held in an offensive stance, and his shimmering shield illuminating the darkness. All his companions had been neutralized, and if he made one wrong move, these assassins would kill them. He would have to take out the archers around Briala first, maybe she could reach for her stilettos and free the mages. He would have to act fast.

A dozen more elves appeared from the shadows, their arrows pointing at the Arcane Warrior. Whatever was going to happen, had to happen now.

"_Mana! Tel garas Dirth'ena Enasalin."_ A voice in the night called. The assassins standing before Rajmael receded back into the darkness as a figure approached. He wore some sort of ancient elven armor, and an elven mask with ancient writing on its featureless face with horn adorning the head.

Judging from the way he walked, and how the assassins obeyed, Rajmael could see that this man was a highly skilled warrior, he even carried two chained-sickles. But there was something different about this man. Something…familiar. Did Rajmael know this man's voice?

The assassin faced Rajmael, and Rajmael stood his ground, ready to kill this man is needs be. _"__Ar'din nuvenin na'din. Tu na'din!"_ Rajmael warned.

The masked assassin dropped both of his sickles to the ground, and proceeded to take his mask off. _"Andaran_ _atish'an…Little Brother."_

Rajmael unconsciously lowered his sword and deactivated his Shimmering Shield. Was he finally going completely insane? It just couldn't be. _"….Nethras?"_

In that brief instance of hesitation, the assassin spun on his heel and planted a spinning back kick right to Rajmael's chin, knocking him the senses out of him. The only thought that ran through his mind before his world went completely went black was, how stupid he was. That couldn't be Nethras. Nethras is dead. Isn't he?

**Meanwhile, in Emprise du Lion...**

It had been years since Mother Giselle had been to Emprise du Lion. Not since before her years administering in Jader. Just as she did in Ferelden before she joined the Inquisition, she was here helping with the relief efforts to the people of this region. It was horrible what happened to the poor souls of Sarhnia. Their livelihoods destroyed by the Orlesian Civil War, and then to be held hostage, enslaved and their loved ones killed by the Red Templars. Thankfully, the Inquisitor was able to free these people and provide them much needed supplies, as well as hope.

The Chantry Mother finished with aiding the injured and sick in the Chantry. While other Chantry members felt enlightenment and joy singing in the Chantry, Mother Giselle always felt the most complete by helping the people. It was here, not in the gilded Chantry temples that she was able to carry out the Maker's work. Healing and providing faith was the closest that she felt to reaching the Maker.

Mother Giselle finished her work and went back to her small room in the back of the Chantry to make her prayers while the sick and injured recovered. Now that her work was done for the moment, she could praise the Maker for giving her the strength to do His work. She hadn't even started when she heard a light tapping on her door.

_"Please, come in."_ Giselle welcomed.

An elven woman with dusky skin, chestnut hair and green eyes entered the small room. She was wearing light armor with a set of knives strapped to her hip, and a serious look on her face. Was she one of the Inquisition soldiers?

_"Mother Giselle?"_ The elven woman presumed. _"I must ask you to come with me immediately. I'm afraid it's a matter of life and death."_

_"Dear Maker, is something wrong? Is the village under attack again?"_ Giselle asked alarmed.

_"No. Well, not yet at least."_ The elf answered blithely. _"But it would be best to come along before that changes."_

_"Who are you? Did the Inquisitor send you?"_ Mother Giselle inquired, her suspicion piqued.

_"The Inquisitor? That flat-eared traitor should be so lucky as to have me under his command."_ The mysterious elf sneered._ "I'm one of the assassins who broke into the Grand Cathedral and raided its vault. Oh, and I'm also the one who set it on fire. Does that answer your questions?"_

Mother Giselle tried to remain calm. What was this assassin doing in this village? _"What do you want here?"_

_"What I want is for you to come with me, calmly, quietly, and voluntarily."_ The elven woman instructed. _"Do that, and I promise, we'll leave here without any problems, and no bloodshed. If you don't, me and the men I brought, will slaughter everyone in this pisshole of a village, and make you watch. Then we'll take you by force. But you can avoid all that if you cooperate. Either way works for me."_

Mother Giselle was shocked. Not only did this woman confess to her that she was one of the raiders who assaulted the Grand Cathedral, she was also threatening to kill everyone in this village like it was nothing to her. How could she be so heartless?

_"You would kill everyone in this village?"_ Giselle asked aghast.

_"Down to the last child."_ The elf answered coldly.

There was no doubt in the Chantry Mother's mind that this woman would follow through with her threat. If she could invade the very sanctity of the Grand Cathedral, and kill the Templars who guarded it, then this already desolated village wouldn't stand a chance. Her path was clear; she would not let any more harm come to this village.

_"It would seem I have no choice."_ Mother Giselle conceded. _"Take me wherever you wish."_

_"That's it? You're not going to posture, or beg, or even call your Maker to save you?"_ The elf asked disappointed.

_"I follow the Maker's will, and I have no doubt he watches over me. I have no need to be afraid."_ Mother Giselle said bravely.

_"Well, you'll be smart to keep that Maker stuff to a minimum."_ The elf chuckled. _"Because where we're going, your god isn't going to help you. He'll be too scared of the god I serve."_

**Language Codex:**

**Elgar'nan enansal:** Elven, translates as _"Elgar'nan's Blessing."_

**Vir Banal'ras**: Elven, translates as _"The Way of Shadow."_

**Vir Tanadhal:** Elven, translates as _"The Way of Three Trees."_

**Vir Atish'an:** Elven, translates as _"The Way of Peace."_

**Vir Sulevanan: **Elven, translates as _"The Way of Service."_

**Bora'nan:** Elven, translates as _"Flying Vengeance."_

**Mana! Tel garas Dirth'ena Enasalin: **Elven, roughly translates as _"Stop! Get away from the Arcane Warrior."_

**Ar'din nuvenin na'din. Tu na'din:** Elven, roughly translates as _"I don't want to kill you. But I will!"_

**Andaran atish'an**: Elven greeting, roughly translates as _"I dwell in this safe place."_

**Ashante kaffas:** Tevene swear, translates as, _"You shit on my tongue."_

**Vashedan:** Qunlat, translates as_ "Trash"_ or _"Crap"._

**Author's Note:**

**For those of you do not really know who Nethras is, please read Chapters 1, 6, and 13. Please review, and enjoy.**

**I do not own anything. Dragon Age is the property of the BioWare Gaming Company. **


	18. The Way of Shadow: Part II

**The Way of Shadow: Part II**

Rajmael woke with a horrific pain in his head after having a horrible nightmare. He dreamt that Nethras was still alive, leading followers of the Vir Banal'ras, and he kicked him in the face after neutralizing all his allies, and Marquis Briala. It had to have been a dream; he buried Nethras right next to Evanura two years ago. Rajmael tried to shake the nightmare from his mind, but when he felt the throbbing pain of his dislodged jaw and shattered cheekbone he realized it was no dream.

Rajmael was blindfolded and his hands were bound, but all he could think of at the moment was the horrible pain his face was in. He concentrated his magic inward and focused on mending his bones and healing his muscles. Under most circumstance, a bound and blinded man would panic when he was captured. He fight against his restraints and try to escape, but Rajmael had to play it safe. Just like when he was training to be an Arcane Warrior, he had to be aware of everything that was going on around him.

He was blindfolded and bound with his arms wrapped tightly around his body to the point he couldn't move them and he could feel that they were being carried in a wagon. No, not a wagon. Wagons can't navigate through forests. They had to be moving in an aravel, only Dalish wagons can move discreetly through the forest undetected. Rajmael wasn't in there alone, some of his companions were with him. He could hear the familiar sound of Cassandra's labored breath, and Sera struggling vainly against whatever bonds were holding her. Judging from that distinctive scent of Orlesian perfume, Rajmael thought Vivienne must be here, but he realized that was not Vivienne's brand, it must have been Briala. And Rajmael could hear Varric trying to move around.

_"Cassandra, I can't see anything. What's going one?"_ Rajmael asked.

_"After that masked assassin…er, neutralized you, those elves disarmed and bound us, then hauled us into these wagons. I have no idea where they're taking us."_ Cassandra answered.

_"Sera, Varric, can either of you spring your bonds?"_

Sera only gave a muffled, pissed off grunt.

_"What Sera means to say, Inquisitor, is 'no'."_ Varric responded. _"They gagged her after the first two minutes. I guess they don't like the sound of her voice. But these elves are smart. They tied one hand behind my head and the other behind my back with ropes, and with the knots facing towards my elbows, so I can't untie them. They did the same thing with Briala. They trussed up Sera like a Wintersend turkey."_

_"Where are the others?"_

_"They still got Iron Bull by the horns, literally."_ Varric answered humorously . _"They tied his hands behind his back and then lashed those ropes to his horns, making it so Tiny can't move his head or his hands. They're dragging Blackwall behind their halla, I don't think he'll make a move and risk the rest of us."_

_"What about our mage friends?"_

_"The elves placed them in separate wagons."_ Cassandra answered. "_They are smart to want to keep the mages away from each other."_

_"We're in aravels, not wagons, Cassandra." _Rajmael casually corrected.

_"What?"_ Cassandra asked incredulously.

_"Calling and aravel a wagon is like calling a dragon a lizard. They're similar, but they are nothing alike. It's actually insulting."_ Rajmael explained satrically.

_"We have been taken prisoner by hostile Dalish assassins, who may be behind severe acts of terrorism, and all you can think of is the distinction between carriages?!"_ Briala asked critically.

_"I'm not sure these guys are actually Dalish." _Varric pointed out. _"I got a good look at some of their faces, and not all of them were tattooed."_

_"Somehow I don't think that's very important to them."_ Cassandra groaned. _"Rajmael, you can make yourself incorporeal right? Can you slip your binds?"_

_"I could, but I'm not going to."_ Rajmael answered blithely.

_"What!?"_ Everyone asked.

_"Everyone, relax. We're still in this."_ Rajmael assured_. "Dalish or not, if these guys wanted us dead, they wouldn't have bothered taking us prisoner. This may lead us to the answers we've been seeking."_

_"Do you have a plan then?"_ Cassandra asked.

_"The Vir Banal'ras didn't capture all of us."_ Rajmael answered_. "We've still got Cole."_

_"Who?"_ Briala asked confusedly.

Sera grunted disapprovingly beneath her gag.

_"No one can see Cole unless he wants them to, and if he can travel from Theirinfall Redoubt all the way to Haven ahead of the Red Templars, then I know he can follow us. With luck he'll be our way out of capture."_ The Inquisitor explained_. "But for now, I want you all to stay calm, and don't do anything unless I say so. Maybe I can reason with…whoever it is that leads them."_

_"I've got to ask, Inquisitor: what happened back there?" _Varric inquired. _"I mean, I've seen you mow through a whole squadron of Templars and countless amounts of demons. But that masked assassin took you out in one shot. I don't mean to criticize, but how'd that happen?"_

Rajmael sighed deeply with shame. _"I don't know, Varric. He must have used some kind of spell, a curse or something. I thought it was…someone who it just couldn't be. I let my guard down for an instant, and he exploited my weakness. It will not happen again."_

**~XoXoXo~**

The captured Inquisitor and his companions rode for what felt like hours, until they came to an abrupt stop. Judging from the chill in the air and the way the sun was moving, they were close to the Frostbacks just on the very edge of the Dales. The wagons began to creak and move despite the fact they were standing still. Suddenly gravity kicked in and forced all occupants of the aravel to the floor.

_"What's going on?"_ Cassandra asked, still blindfolded.

_"I'd say were now floating in the air."_ Rajmael answered casually.

_"Floating?!"_ Varric shouted.

_"Yeah, like a boat in water, except we're in the air?"_ Rajmael responded_. "That's kind of what aravels do."_

_"I don't know about you, Inquisitor, but I like heights slightly less than I do caves." _Varric informed nervously.

Briala always thought the stories of Dalish aravels floating was just that, stories meant to capture the imagination of young elves born in the confine of cities, meant to help uplift their spirits. But to actually be in an aravel, in flight, it was…something that all city elves dream to be real. She just wished it was under better circumstances. It seemed every time she came in contact with those who lived as true elves, she only ever saw that bad side of them. But then…Rajmael was a decent man, and he was proud to be Dalish.

After a while the aravels finally landed on solid ground. Their captors hauled them out and gathered them outside. Judging from how thin the air was and how frigid the weather felt, Rajmael knew for certain they were in the Frostbacks. Strange. What was here that the Vir Banal'ras doing here of all places when the Dales provided bountiful hiding places?

_"Take off their blindfolds and bonds."_ Ordered a feminine voice.

Rajmael expected to see a fellow Dalish but was surprised to see the woman before them was a barefaced city elf. She was around his age with dusky skin, chestnut hair, deep green eyes and had a disdainful look on her face that could almost rival Cassandra's. Like the other members of the Vir Banal'ras she carried a chained-sickle on her hip as well as a quiver of arrows on her back and an ironwood bow. Judging from the way she stood and the respectful manner the other elves had about them, she must have been some kind of officer in their ranks.

_"Aneth ara, lathalan."_ Rajmael greeted sarcastically.

_"Save your breath, Inquisitor. I don't speak a word of ancient elven."_ The elven woman responded neutrally.

_"Then why the frick are you doing all this stupid elfy shit for?"_ Sera blurted as she ripped the gag out of her mouth.

The dusky elf flashed an angry look at Sera and planted a mean right cross into Sera's nose and bloodied her face. _"You speak when spoken to, thief!"_ the woman looked to her men and pointed at Vivienne. _"If this flat-ear speaks again, kill this one."_

That was worrisome to Vivienne. Sera's penchant for speaking out of turn was infamous, and now here own continued existence rested on the condition that this impudent little thief kept her mouth shut. Oh, this was so sad it was almost funny.

_"Who are you? Why are you doing this?"_ Briala asked.

_"Name's Velara, and what we're doing should be obvious if you didn't have your head jacked up so far between Empress Celene's legs, Marquis Briala."_ Velara answered hatefully. _"Are there any other stupid questions?"_

_"Yeah, just one." _Rajmael answered sardonically. _"Do you honestly think that you, or any of your little shadow warriors, can go toe-to-toe with me, even without my sword? What's to stop me lighting your ass up like a chimney?"_

_"And how do you propose to do that?"_

_"With magic and a fist full of Fuck You, that's how!"_ Rajmael spat.

_"I'm well aware that you could kill me with relative ease, Inquisitor."_ Velara answered a cocky little grin. _"But I'm also sure you're aware of the standard Dalish procedure when dealing with outsiders. For every one of us you see, there's at least four that you don't? Well, we have more than just four trained on you, and while you may be able to deflect arrows out of midair, do you really think she's as agile?"_ Velara pointed over to another aravel, and Rajmael was shocked to see Mother Giselle standing there as a prisoner. The situation was becoming crappier by the minute.

What she said right there, standard Dalish procedure? _"Where did you learn that? Who the fuck is leading you?"_ Rajmael demanded.

_"You will see soon enough. Our leader wishes to speak with you, if it were up to me, I'd shove, and your little pack of freaks, off that cliff and look at what kind stain you'd make when you hit the ground. But that's not my call."_ Velara answered smugly. _"You will follow me, and if you try anything, our archers will shoot that decrepit bitch down like a quail. But feel free to test me."_

Rajmael looked over to Mother Giselle and watched as they took her away. He had no choice but to comply. While Rajmael was not a man of Andrastian faith, and he didn't like how Mother Giselle tried so hard to convince him of the Andrastian faith, she was still a member of the Inquisition, and under his protection.

**~XoXoXo~**

Velara's men took Mother Giselle down a different path and separated her from the rest of them. Rajmael and his companions followed Velara through an ancient, weather worn path through the mountain side and deeper into the Frostbacks. Where was she taking them?

_"Hey, Boss. We got a plan?"_ Iron Bull whispered.

_"We cannot leave Mother Giselle to their mercy. Not after what they did to the Freeman of the Dales."_ Cassandra insisted.

_"You're a powerful mage aren't you, Inquisitor?"_ Briala asked rhetorically_. "Can't you summon something or conjure up a spell to strike them all down?"_

_"Wow, for a spymaster you have quite a naïve perception on the power of magic."_ Rajmael answered. _"No. My magic doesn't work that way. I can't manipulate the forces of nature in the same manner as other mages. As an Arcane Warrior, my magic is focused inward, and I possess full mastery over myself. It increases my physical abilities and my attunement with my surroundings."_

_"But I've seen you use fire and lightning before."_ Briala reminded.

_"Lightning is the magical extension of my personality, just as ice is an extension of Vivienne's."_ Rajmael explained_. "And I can wield fire because…I've felt its burn so badly I can't forget its power."_

_"This isn't the time for magical lectures!"_ Cassandra hissed_. "Are we to do nothing?"_

_"We don't have much choice right now." _Rajmael answered. _"We're in an unknown territory, with an unknown number of hostiles, and we don't know where they've taken Mother Giselle, or us for that matter."_

_"If we just rush into a fight without a plan, we could end up as dead as the Freeman."_ Blackwall added.

_"It would seem the best course of action is to cooperate and come up with a plan."_ Solas spoke.

_"Exactly. Besides, after what I saw, I need some fucking answers."_ Rajmael stated with determination.

_"Hey! You do realize I can hear you, right?"_ Velara pointed out.

_"Hey! You do realize FUCK YOU! Right?"_ Rajmael spat.

Velara and Cassandra both groaned in disgust but kept walking. Snow began to fall from the sky and mountain tops and the winds began to whip at them. Rajmael thought only the Avvar bothered to live this far in the Frostbacks. Soon they reached their destination, and what a destination it was. Carved into the very side of the mountain was a grand temple entrance into the mountain that shamed the Gates of Orzammar, but this was no dwarven creation. Two were giant elven statues armor and grace far outstripped the Emerald Knights stood before the grand entrance pointing their spears towards heaven, and their off hands rested on swords that were of the same make and design as Enasalin, and the Bora'nan was strapped to their hips.

Leading from the elven gate guardians was a grand stairway that could march a whole army, and at the base steps was a grand courtyard of white stone where more of statues of the elven warriors stood. And in the courtyard were whole platoons of elves training with bows, hand-to-hand, knife fighting, and the use of the Bora'nan. They wore no armor, only minimal clothing, even the women, as though the whipping winds and frigid cold meant nothing to them, and they trained with the tenacity and fury of born warriors, as though they wished to prove themselves to the sentinels watching them. But it wasn't just combat they were practicing. There were elves scaling the mountain walls, walking across ropes over spikes and even meditation. All of Rajmael's warrior companions had to admit that their training was impressive.

_"What…what is this place?" _Rajmael gawked in awe.

_"This place must be older than the Dales, perhaps as old as Arlathan."_ Solas said in equal awe.

_"Seems like the perfect place to hide, and the perfect place to train some hardcore professional killers."_ Dorian stated.

_"Why would these elves come all the way out here to train? Have they nothing better to do?"_ Vivienne asked sardonically.

_"What are they training for?"_ Cassandra asked with concern. _"Who are they planning to fight?"_

_"Well, perhaps, if we're lucky, we can recruit these people?" _Blackwall suggested. _"They seem eager for a fight, maybe we can direct that at the Venatori?"_

_"Are you fucking batty?"_ Sera asked unthoughtfully_. "You can't trust these crazy, stupid fucking elfy-elves! They'll knife you in the back the instant you turn on 'em!"_

The instant Sera said that four arrows flew past Vivienne's face.

_"I heard that."_ Velara warned_. "I don't make empty threats. Keep your pet thief's mouth shut, Inquisitor."_

Everyone glared at Sera, and she gave them a confounded look, but kept her lips firmly together. They walked up the giant staircase and passed the elvhen sentinels. Above the doorway was an ancient elven inscription that Rajmael recognized. It read Elgar'nan enansal, Elgar'nan's blessing. This must have been a temple dedicated to Elgar'nan, as proven by that inscription and the Vir Banal'ras' presence here.

The grand hall of the temple was incredible. Pillars of ancient marble carved in the image of trees and the likeness of animals with blazing braziers lighting the way. Velara led them deeper into the temple and Rajmael and most of his companions couldn't help but admire what they saw. They passed a group elves kneeling before a statue of Elgar'nan holding the sun in his hand as they recited a song to his glory. The thing that caught Rajmael's attention the most was the fact that almost all the elves who were kneeling weren't Dalish, they were City Elves, and some were old enough to be his father. Rajmael didn't recognize the song they were singing.

_Elgar'nan__, Wrath and Thunder,  
Give us glory.  
Give us victory, over the Earth that shakes our cities.  
Strike the usurpers with your lightning.  
Burn the ground under your gaze.  
Bring Winged Death against those who throw down our work._

_Elgar'nan, help us tame the land_

What song was that? Rajmael had never heard its like before. And the dedication and power with which these elves sang could shame any Chantry sister. Velara bought them into a room towards the back of the temple.

_"Wait here."_ Velara instructed and left them alone in the room.

Everyone took a moment to examine the room for anything. A way out, a trap, anything. The first thing Rajmael and Solas, then soon the whole group, noticed the massive mural on the far end of the room. It was a depiction an elven fresco just like the one Solas was painting in the Skyhold tower. This painting depicted the image of Elgar'nan holding his hand out with a burning orb in front of him. And standing before the All-Father was a group of elven warriors, some were kneeling and others were saluting Elgar'nan with the Bora'nan in their fists, and from the burning orb, beams of light shined down on the warriors, engulfing them in a burning red aura. Was Elgar'nan blessing them?

_"Those elven warriors all have glowing eyes."_ Blackwall pointed out. "_Just like how Gertrude described them."_

Solas looked closely at the painting. _"This piece is ancient, but someone has been restoring it."_

_"It's magnificent."_ Briala commented.

_"Yes. It is. I've been working on restoring it, but I just haven't had enough free time to do so."_ Spoke an authoritative voice. Rajmael recognized the owner of the voice, it was that masked bastard that knocked him out.

Rajmael activated his Shimmering Shield while everyone else readied for a fight. Everyone could see that Rajmael was pissed off.

_"I don't know who you are, but you made a serious mistake in invoking my brother's image."_ The Inquisitor warned angrily.

_"Well, I am sorry I kicked you in the face like that, but is that any way to speak to your brother, Lethallin? What would Evanura say?"_ The Assassin removed his mask and revealed the face of an elven man around Rajmael's age. His hair was blueish black, pulled into a ponytail. Like most elves, he had a beautiful feline face with sharp features and high cheekbones. But the beauty of his face was marred by the intricate Dalish tattoo that covered the right side of his face, and the terrible, jagged scar that trailed down the left side. In his piercing blue eyes was a look of welcome, while Rajmael's eyes were filled with disbelief.

_"No…y-you can't be. Nethras is dead! I buried you for Falon'din's fucking sake!"_ Rajmael denied. _"We searched for you and we found your body!"_

_"Do you want me to prove it?"_ The supposed Nethras asked. _"When you turned eighteen I gifted you that sylvanwood pipe, and judging from the smell of burnt lotus, you still use it. Keeper Deshana once called you the most impudent, barefaced smartass that had ever been her misfortune to suffer. Or how about that time when you were sixteen and Evanura walked in on you…discovering your 'elven glory' when you thought no one was looking?"_

Sera and Iron Bull snickered like children while eveyone else looked embarrassed, but not half as embarrassed as Rajmael.

_"That's the first time I've ever heard it called that!"_ Dorian laughed.

_"Wow, that's right up there with 'I Walked Through The Streets Without Pants' embarrassing moments." _Varric chuckled.

_"Hey, Cassandra, how do you like his 'elven glory'?"_ Sera giggled.

Cassandra said nothing, but turned a shade of crimson that almost rivaled Rajmael's.

Instead of standing around looking embarrassed, or telling the others to shut up, Rajmael walked up to Nethras and the two elves embraced as long lost brothers should. And for the first time ever, Rajmael's companions saw him cry.

_"Oh, Nethras. I'm so sorry!"_ Rajmael wept. _"I didn't know what was going to happen!"_

_"There is no way to prepare against human nature, my brother."_ Nethras replied calmly.

_"What happened to your Vallaslin?"_ Rajmael asked curiously. _"Your marks were originally meant to honor Andruil, but these…."_

_"Honor Elgar'nan, I know. I felt that this was more appropriate, as I know serve Elgar'nan's cause."_ Nethras finished.

_"The Keeper, Eva, everyone thinks you're dead. What happened to you?"_ Rajmael finally asked.

_"The body you found was another elven apostate that those same templars that killed Evanura had hunted then burned. I found them not long after, and I put wedding ring on that apostates hand so that you would stop looking for me."_ Nethras explained calmly.

_"You mean this whole time our clan has thought you were dead, and you've been alive doing Mythal knows what with the Vir Banal'ras?! Do you have any idea how much heartbreak Eva had been through?!"_ Rajmael demanded with justified outrage_. "If you've been alive this whole time, why haven't you returned to your daughter!?"_

_"Believe me Rajmael, not a day goes by that I don't hate myself for not returning to the clan. But I just couldn't. Not after everything that happened." _Nethras hung his head in shame. _"Please, let me explain."_

_"What have you done with Mother Giselle?!"_ Cassandra demanded with her patience reaching its end. "_Your people took her from the Inquisition!"_

_"I certainly hope so. I gave them the order."_ Nethras answered casually.

_"Did you also order give the order to launch terrorist attacks against Orlais?"_ Briala voiced in. _"Do you have any idea the damage you could cause?"_

Nethras laughed in his throat. _"And you brought the newly promoted Marquis Briala of the Dales. How…fortuitous."_

_"Nethras, I need to know what has happened. You have much to answer for."_ Rajmael told in a grim tone.

"_Are you asking me as my brother, or as the Lord Inquisitor, Rajmael?"_

_"I want us to remain as brothers, but I must first have answers. For what has happened and what you've done since…Evanura's death."_ Rajmael answered somberly.

_"Very well."_ Nethras sighed. He invited him to sit with him at a large table at one end of the room. Nethras remained calm, but the tension from the others was noticeable_. "After the humans attacked our clan and…killed Evanura, I chased after them, despite what Keeper Deshana bade."_ A look of pain came over both Dalish elves as they remembered that day so vividly. _"It took me a week to track the Templars who tried to take Eva away, but I found them. They had just burned an elven apostate when I attacked. I was still injured from their previous assault and my anger got the better of me. I killed many, but they were able to overpower me, and decided to haul me off to the White Spire to be judged for the murder of holy templars, as if their crimes against our people were nothing. And they gave me this."_ Nethras traced over the scar on the left side of his face as he flashed a hateful look at Cassandra. The Seeker met his gaze, but there was shame in her eyes. _"We took ship to Ferelden, and from there to the Frostbacks to go to Orlais. I was still severely injured, and the Templars kept me that way as they mocked me, and mocked the Creators, telling me how the Maker was going to strike me into the Abyss for being devout in my pagan beliefs."_

_"That is not the Maker's will!"_ Cassandra spoke out. _"What those men did was terrible, and they had no right to do it. The Maker does not accept such blasphemy."_

_"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"_ Nethras asked sarcastically_. "Is that what passes for an apology to you Chantry dogs? Well, that just changes everything! Maybe you can tell that to my dead wife and clanmates, and maybe they'll appreciate it as much as I do! Sit down, and shut the fuck up."_

Rajmael lifed his hand and bade Cassandra to be quite.

_"Anyway, when we were passing through the Frostbacks a terrible snowstorm kicked in."_ Nethras continued_. "I was finally able to escape the templars, but I was still too injured. I crawled through the mountains looking for shelter, eating root and rodents when I found them. And just when I was ready to let Falon'Din claim me, I heard…felt something. Something calling to me. I crawled and clawed my way until I found this holy place."_

_"You elfy types think all ancient ruins and shit are holy."_ Sera snorted. _"I find holier things at the bottom of a bottle."_

_"Little Brother, if your pet flat-ear speaks again, I am going to break her neck."_ Nethras warned.

_"Sera, shut up, or I'll break your neck for him. The adults are talking."_ Rajmael warned glaringly. Sera returned his glare, but conceded and turned her attention to the floor. _"So you found this place. What else did you find? What makes it so holy?"_

Nethras chuckled almost maniacally. _"The foundations of this temple was set down during the time of Elvhenan Empire, and unlike the ancient ruins that acted as places of worship, this was where the Vir Banal'ras trained to serve him. This is where they received their orders, where they heard his voice. The voice of the All-Father."_

_"You are so certain of this?"_ Solas asked skeptically.

_"I heard the echoes of his words."_ Nethras answered with reverence. _"I crawled in here through the darkness, and I learned more of our history than Keeper Deshana did in her whole life as leader of our clan." Nethras pointed to the mural on the wall with the elven warriors. "Elgar'nan granted the Vir Banal'ras incredible power, a burning rage equal to He Who Over Threw The Sun. It makes the dwarven berserkers look like sniveling girls. These warriors were the agents of Elgar'nan's vengeance, the enforcers of his will, and they left behind not only their weapons, but their knowledge as well. I studied, and unlocked, Elgar'nan's Blessing, and then I hunted down those templars, and I made them feel Elgar'nan's wrath."_

There was a smile on Nethras' face that reminded Rajmael of a rabid wolf. The others noticed it as well. _"You avenged Evanura and our clan, and you found a lost piece of our history. Why didn't you return then?"_

_"Because I couldn't bare the shame of looking at my daughter, knowing that I had failed her and our clan."_ Nethras answered sorrowfully. _"I…had to make it right. Not just for my daughter but for the elves who were being wronged. __I found others like us, elves who had been wronged, and piece by piece, we've been taking back what rightfully belongs to us."_

That last sentence caught Rajmael's attention instantly. _"What do you mean take back what we lost, Nethras?"_

Nethras smiled proudly at his brother. _"Come, let me show you, Little Brother."_

Rajmael's long lost brother led them down a long corridor, which took them further inside the mountain temple. Rajmael could feel the power within this temple, it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and his skin tingle. The very air was filled with this ancient power. As if the very stones that made it were carved from magic. The weight of the mountain was held up by powerful pillars of white stone with carvings of ancient battles etched into their surface. And all along the massive corridor were statues of fearsome elven warriors in armor armed with spears, bows and swords, fearsome expressions sculpted on to their faces, as if they were ready to spring to life and fight to finish.

Nethras led them to two giant doors at the end of the hallway, a mosaic of Elgar'nan tiled on them both and set of bells before them. Both the doors were massive in size and weight, crafted from black stone, and there was no doorknobs, or even a presentable handle on either of them. They all started wondering whether or not this elf was just leading them on a wild goose chase. Before any of them could voice their concerns, Nethras struck the bells in a complicated sequence. The individual sound from each bell made a different note that seemed to ring in the back of their minds, and harmonized more beautifully than the bells of Val Royeaux. When each bell's note reached their end, their echoes silenced in the vast halls, the door began to rumble and groan, the ancient tumblers inside them moving of their own volition.

_"Never picked a door that needed music to get open."_ Sera commented.

_"I'd like to see the Smiths back in Orzammar try to pull something like this off."_ Varric chuckled.

_"These doors respond to a certain harmonization of sound."_ Solas realized. _"It is ancient and subtle form of magic. I doubt anyone could get in otherwise."_

Nethras looked at his brother, a proud smile spread across his face._ "Behold, my brother. The treasures of our people."_

Rajmael was stunned with awe, his mouth agape and a look of wonder in his eyes. The chamber they stood in was as large as Skyhold's courtroom, and it was filled entirely with nothing but elven treasures. Various pieces of art hung on the walls next to statues and mosaics of the elven gods. Magical artifacts that would shame the vaults in Val Royeaux's Circle of Magi, such as staves of powerful Keepers, crafting tools of ancient and brilliant designs, and even books written in ancient elven. Displayed proudly on stands and in glass cases were sets of armor and weapons. Enchanted swords, bows, and even saddles that were designed to ride halla, all made from material that no human forge could mimic. Some were relics of the Emerald Knights of the Dales, and others were so ancient it was impossible to determine their age and origin. Despite the age of these arms and armor, they could easily rival any weapon forged by the finest smiths of Orzammar.

Before anyone could remark on the splendor of all these artifacts, Rajmael immediately set to looking at and remarking every item he could get to. The enthusiasm and excitement he had was like that of a child who got everything he wanted on his birthday. Wide-eyed and full of energy, the Inquisitor started looking at and remarking on every item he could get to.

_"Look at these statues of the Creators, carved from pure crystal And these books, all written in elvhen."_ Rajmael marveled excitedly._ "Solas! Look at these murals. They must date back thousands of years."_

_"Wow. Look at him go."_ Varric chuckled.

_"Like a kid on Wintersend morning."_ Blackwall observed.

_"I wish my Wintersend mornings were like this. All I got was higher expectations and more responsibilities, and if I was really lucky, maybe a pat on the head."_ Dorian remarked, half-sarcastic.

_"Imagine what our enemies would think if they saw the boss like this."_ Iron Bull chortled.

Cole looked upon their leader, looking past him, seeing what was truly there. _"These are more than items, more than treasures to him. They represent everything his people were, are, can be again. They are part of the elven identity, their soul. He's spent his whole life finding such things, searching for what was taken from his people. A way to restore who they are."_

Seeing Rajmael so excited and joyful at all these elven artifacts that had not been plundered made Cassandra feel happy for him. Rajmael, the elves as a whole, had lost so much, and Rajmael seeing so much of what was rightfully theirs must have brought him a sense of vindication and victory most could not know. Even so, Cassandra could not shake off that feeling of suspicion in the back of her mind, honed by her lifetime as a Seeker. While she was glad for Rajmael, this Nethras had taken them against their will, taken Mother Giselle hostage, and admitted to being behind the various acts of terrorism they were investigating. Everything inside her told her that there was something sinister happening here.

_"And the Freeman of the Dales?"_ Solas inquired curiously. _"I cannot fault anyone for wanting to be rid of them, but their rather extreme termination doesn't seem to coincide with your goals."_

_"You really think so, hahren?"_ Nethras asked slyly._ "General Maliphant and his fellow deserters dared to lay claim to the Dales as their own, as if this was there land to have. They were foul men, and they deserved foul ends. And besides, I hate Chevaliers."_

_"So, you've committed various acts of sabotage, terrorism and murder for the sake of a few relics and treasures?"_ Vivienne observed in her trademark condescending tone._ "It seems we were wrong, Marquis Briala. These people aren't radicals, merely petty thieves, as well as murderers."_

Vivienne cried out in shock and pain as an arrow flew past her head and grazed her cheek, leaving a trail of blood on her mahogany face. Vivienne pressed her hand against the wound on her face to heal it with magic, but nothing happened. Her eyes went wide with shock. How can this be happening?

_"What's the matter? Your magic not working, shem?" _

Nethras stood from the other side of the room, still holding the bow he used to launch that arrow at Vivienne. Despite how old the bow looked, it was very obvious that the weapon was still effective. There was a strange aura around the bow, and the arms were glowing lightly with runes. The weapons was obviously enchanted.

_"This here is called Dhal Vallasan, forged by the legendary elven smith Tanaleth in Halamshiral. Bows such as these were used by a special branch of the Emerald Knights who hunted maleficar and demons in our kingdom. The enchantments of this weapon disrupt magic."_ Nethras explained coldly but his anger apparent in his eyes. _"If you disrespect me or those I lead again, Enchanter, I'm going to shoot you in the gut and watch you bleed to death, and your fancy magic won't do anything for you."_

Vivienne looked over to the Inquisitor, wanting him to do something, but Rajmael shared his brother's contempt._ "Don't look at me, Vivienne. _You're_ the one who's dumb enough to smack in this place. Which is odd, because normally that's Sera's job."_

_"Yeah, that's...hey!"_ Sera protested.

_"But it is a valid concern, Inquisitor."_ Briala reminded adamantly. _"I know he is your brother, but your brother has admitted to committing many serious crimes. Crimes you and I came to investigate, to stop."_

_"Bite me, Marquis."_ Nethras snapped, placing his enchanted bow back on its pedestal. _"After that little shadow war you committed against Celene and Gaspard, you're the last person in all of Thedas who gets to lecture on elves fighting for the justice that's denied us."_

_"So it is true. You're the one who assaulted the Grand Cathedral!"_ Cassandra accused damningly.

Nethras gave a mocking bow to the Seeker. _"I personally led that assault, and I have to admit, the look on that Revered Mother's face when we lit that vault on fire still makes me laugh."_

Cassandra's signature scowl twisted on her face in utter rage. How dare he speak like such sacrilege was some kind of joke? If only she had her sword, then she'd knock that arrogant smirk off his face. _"You assaulted the heart of Andrastian faith, murdered Templars who were performing their duties. Why!?"_

_"You'll find that the life of a Templar means very little to me, and my brother. Isn't that right, Rajmael?"_ Nethras looked over to Rajmael, but his brother averted his eyes, as if he didn't want to confirm Nethras' claim. "As for why I _did it, well, you're supposed the Seeker. You tell me."_

_"Leliana said that the remains of Mother Amity were taken from the vault, along with other things."_ Solas recalled. _"Did you break into the Grand Cathedral's vault to carry out an act of vengeance against one of the people who robbed the elves of their kingdom?"_

Both Nethras and Rajmael hocked in their throats and spat hatefully on the ground at the mention of that name.

_"Not quite. When vengeance is carried out, those who committed the crime should feel the pain they committed against others, and then savored like a fine wine. So taking revenge against a dead woman's remains isn't very satisfying. Even though it was fun breaking into that vault and setting it on fire."_ Nethras laughed. _"No, taking Mother Amity's urn was just a nice consolation prize. I went there to take back what your precious Chantry stole from my people."_

_"What are you talking about?"_ Cassandra asked disbelievingly.

_"You really think I'd waste my time and resources just steal an overdecorated trash bin?"_ Nethras asked rhetorically, holding out an urn with the mark of the Annointed and signature of the Divine on its face. It was Mother Amity's ashes. _"Though I will admit, I did have fun pissing on her dusty remains."_

A sense of outrage overwhelmed Cassandra. How can this man act so flippant and immodest about such actions. However, the Seeker bit down on her tongue. After everything both he and Rajmael had told of their shared past, and after seeing what elves go through, she was in no position to judge them for bearing a grudge. Especially considering how long she held a grudge against mages for what happened to her own brother.

_"Where did you think all these relics and treasures came from? From your kind!"_ Nethras snapped angrily. _"Orlesian nobles whose ancestors stole our land, and placed our treasures on their mantle pieces like trophies. Nearly a third of what is in this room I took from your precious vault. I didn't break into that bitch's tomb merely to make off with her dusty remains. I wanted something infinitely more valuable that had been placed in her crypt."_

Nethras unlocked a secure chest and held it out to Rajmael. Rajmael carefully opened the box and his eyes went as wide as wagon wheels, his breath stolen from him, and his hands shook against his will as reached for what was inside it. An axe of elven design, many centuries old, masterfully crafted from white sylvanwood. The axe blade was like silver with runes inscribed along its edge. Etched into the haft was an ancient elvhen prayer none here could translate, with the flag of the Dales stamped above it. And tied to the handle was a string of small totems of the elven gods carved from stone, bone and metal. It was a weapon that exalted the elven spirit.

_"I don't believe it. The Veshialle...!"_ Rajmael exclaimed with excited disbelief.

_"Wielded by General Rajmael in the battles against the Exalted March on the Dales. He held off our enemy to give our people time to escape. Your namesake hurled this axe at the Chantry's soldiers before leaping to his death at the Forlorn Falls, rather than be captured by our enemy."_ Nethras spoke with reverence in his voice._ "It was taken as a trophy, and used to fuel the Chantry's lies that General Rajmael renounced the Creators as the moment of his death. And when that bitch Amity died, they buried Rajmael's axe with her, as a reminder of her accomplishments in life. Even in death, that miserable cunt did nothing but insult our people."_

_"That's all? You committed acts of murder, of sacrilege, for an axe? For these...things?!"_ Cassandra demanded.

_"You and your Chantry commit acts of murder, propaganda, and cultural genocide in the name of a faceless god whose only claim to existence was by a single prophet who failed and died."_ Nethras reminded satirically. _"This, as far as I, and many other elves, can see, is justice. Something your kind have denied us for too long."_

Rajmael, it seemed, was too preoccupied by having his legendary namesake's legendary weapon in his hands. Something he never thought he'd ever seen in the flesh, yet here it was. The Inquisitor looked to the urn that contained Mother Amity's ashes with utter contempt and hatred burning in his eyes. That thing in the back of his mind began yelling at him, and for once, Rajmael had no intention of ignoring it.

The Inquisitior gripped the long lost axe firmly in his fist, charging his magic through it blade, making lightning crackle through it. Then Rajmael snatched up the urn and clenched it so hard in his hand that it began to crack. Eight hundred years of oppression, abuse, hostility, hatred and fear, all thanks to the miserable bitch whose earthly remains were contained in this jar. She brought destruction to an entire people, left them with nothing but pain and anguish, and what did the humans who claim to be just do about it? They canonized her, treated her like a damned hero and buried her with honor, and celebrated her crimes against his people. All those statues he destroyed in the Dales that bastardized his people, she built them. Everything the Chantry says about how the elves were evil, heartless pagans, she wrote it. It was Mother Amity who set the standard for that Chantry bitch who burned Rajmael as a child and murdered his parents. This insult could not go unpunished.

Rajmael threw Mother Amity's urn into the air, and before it could even begin falling back down, he threw the Veshialle at the damned thing. Mother Amity's urn shattered into many pieces, and her dusty ashes filled the air like grey snow. Before Mother Amity's urn or her ashes even had a chance to hit the ground, the intensity of the lightning from the Veshialle vaporized every last bit of her remains into nothing, as if they never existed. Mother Amity's remains being erased from existence by the weapon of General Rajmael; to the Inquisitor, it felt like poetic justice.

All of Rajmael's companions, especially the more faithful of them, were shocked into silence. Cassandra looked at the Inquisitor with appalled shock on her face. They couldn't believe that the Inquisitor just desecrated someone's remains like that. Nethras, on the other hand, was laughing his ass off.

Rajmael took a moment to collect himself. After a lifetime of resentment, payback should be savored for at least a moment.

_"Well, that was...cathartic."_ Rajmael admitted, finally turning his attention back to his brother. _"But it's time you started explaining things, Nethras. You owe us some answers. So you avenged our clan, and you've been recovering pieces of our stolen history, and for that, you've done right by our people. But what is this? How did you get so many followers?"_

_"You of all people should know that the Dalish aren't the only elves who are constantly being wronged by the humans."_ Nethras reminded._ "After I found this temple, I went out and sought others like us. Elves who had been wronged by this world, looking for justice. I began training them, teaching them how to use the Bora'nan, and how to receive Elgar'nan's blessing."_

_"And what do you intend to do with Elgar'nan's blessing, Nethras?"_ Rajmael finally got to the core of their purpose here. _"I saw the training going on in the courtyard, it seems like you're preparing for war."_

_"You don't dress for a funeral unless there's a dead body."_ Nethras answered.

_"Inquisitor, I know he is your adopted brother, and I sympathize with what happened to him, I truly do, but the answer is obvious: he intends to be a terrorist. He already is one."_ Marquis Briala stated, glaring an angry look at Nethras.

_"A terrorist is just a less flattering term for people fighting back against their oppressors. No different when Ferelden rebelled against Orlais."_ Nethras grinned_. "But…yes. I do have certain plans for the Vir Banal'ras. Not that you would understand, Marquis."_

_"Do you honestly think that killing a few soldiers or nobles will change anything, or are you just another fanatic looking to kill for your cause?"_ Cassandra demanded.

_"The Vir Banal'ras only leads to destruction, for those walking that path especially." _Solas advised.

_"This guy sounds a lot like some of the Fog Warriors I interrogated."_ Iron Bull spoke.

_"Are you truly willing to get your own people killed for this?"_ Blackwall added.

_"Far be it for me to say anything about what cause a man takes up, but doesn't this sound just a tad foolish to anyone else?"_ Dorian asked.

_"Wow. Do they have to comment on everything?"_ Nethras chuckled.

_"Trust me, it gets tiresome after a while."_ Rajmael sighed. _"But they're concerns are legitimate ones, and I can't ignore what you've done. What are your plans, Nethras?"_

Nethras matched his brother's serious look. _"I'm afraid that information is secret, Rajmael. You will always be my brother, but you are the Inquisitor and I am the leader of the Vir Banal'ras. And I have yet to see if your Inquisition is friend or foe to us."_

A sense of outrage came over Rajmael. _"You disappear for two years, let everyone who loved you thing you were dead, and after everything we went through as brothers, you dare question my loyalty as an elf?!"_

_"You lead an institution that is made up of, and dedicated to the faith of the Chantry. A faith that has sought our people's destruction, Herald of Andraste."_ Nethras shot back. _"That miserable title of yours causes me and the rest of our people to question where your loyalties lay."_

_"After what the Chantry has done to me, you think I'd ever be loyalt to them?"_ Rajmael growled.

_"If you truly want not only my trust, but the trust of those under me, then you know what you need to do, brother."_ Nethras answered.

Rajmael did know what he was talking about. He had to find out what Nethras was planning, and he refused to let anyone, especially his adopted brother question his loyalty to the elven people. _"So be it…brother. I invoke Vir Sulevenan."_

_"If you want to know the secrets and goals of the Vir Banal'ras, and prove your loyalty to the elves who serve here, then you must retrieve a prize equal to that worth. Bring me…the Shards of Sulevin."_

Rajmael's jaw dropped, and his eyes went wide with shock. The request almost made him paled. _"Wh-what? The Shards of…you can't be serious!"_

_"I'm as serious as cancer, brother."_ Nethras responded. _"What you seek is equal to that sword. If you want to know our goal, then I want that sword."_

_"Is what I have to learn here truly worth the danger and ultimate futile task?"_

_"Yes. I swear in the name of all the Creators, what I have is worth it. But more than that, you owe me a great debt. The price of two lives, and the lives of others, that were lost because of your error in judgement. Or have you forgotten that?"_ Nethras said with pain_. "You…owe me, Rajmael."_

Rajmael's face twisted in agony. What were they talking about_? "So be it. I will get you the useless, broken fucking sword."_

_"Do that, and your debt is settled." _Nethras promised.

_"Show us the way out, and give us back our equipment then."_

_"No. I'm afraid I can't do that, either."_ Nethras stated. _"You see, while I welcome you here as my brother, these…people are my prisoners. I didn't disarm them and bring them all the way out here simply to give them a tour of this temple. The whole point of Vir Banal'ras is secrecy, and until you've completed your task, I cannot trust these strangers you brought with you when you sniffed out our trail. And besides, there are so many of my people who want to speak with the Marquis here.""_

_"Do you truly think you can hold us hostage? Against our will?" _Cassandra asked dangerously. Rajmael could feel that killing intent building up inside of her_. "We are not the Freeman of the Dales, we are not so weak!"_

_"You've got more bite than all the other Chantry dogs I've killed, I'll give you that."_ Nethras admitted. _"But this temple is home to those who follow me, and if you do not cooperate it will go one of two ways. One: my assassins will kill Mother Giselle, or Two: I'll kick your asses. Either way, you will lose."_

_"Yeah, right!"_ Sera scoffed_. "Let's see 'em try!"_

_"I like a good fight."_ Iron Bull promised.

_"We will not be hostages for one man's lunacy."_ Vivienne scorned.

_"You honestly think we're going to just sit here and let you threaten us?"_ Blackwall asked threateningly.

_"You should be more careful what enemies you provoke."_ Solas warned.

_"Everyone, shut up and calm down."_ Rajmael ordered_. "We will comply with Nethras. And we will not attack them."_

_"What!?"_ all of them practically screamed.

_"We have no choice."_ The Inquisitor informed. _"And I don't want to bring death if we can ally with them. But do I have your word, brother, that you will not harm them, or Mother Giselle, and to release them when my task is complete."_

_"Yes. I swear in the name of all the Creators, even Fen'harel the Dread Wolf, and on the life of my daughter, that I will not harm any member of the Inquisition."_ Nethras swore. _"And when your task is complete, I will let them go, and reveal everything to you."_

_"Then under these terms, I accept the Vir Sulevenan." _Rajmael promised.

_"Perfect."_ Nethras snapped his fingers and that brunette elf from earlier materialized right out of the shadows_. "Velara, take the Inquisitor's companions to where Mother Giselle is being kept. Assure them of our…hospitality to strangers."_

_"As you wish, Nethras."_ Velara answered stoically.

**~XoXoXo~**

Once again Velara lead them to an unknown location. They walked deeper into the temple, passing the ancient statues and intricate hallways until they reached what appeared to be some kind of large, empty room, possibly once used as some kind of vault or meditation chamber. And inside was Mother Giselle, alive and unharmed, kneeling in prayer.

_"Mother Giselle! Thank the Maker you're unhurt." _Cassandra exclaimed. _"Have they done anything to you?"_

_"I am fine, Seeker Cassandra. A few bruises, but nothing terrible." _Mother Giselle answered calmly_. "Inquisitor, do you know what is happening? Who are these elves? Are they Dalish?"_

_"No, not all of them."_ Rajmael answered dismally. _"They're a group of elves, Dalish and City Elves alike, looking for retribution. And they're being led by my brother."_

_"You're brother? I thought you said he was dead?"_ Mother Giselle asked confused.

Rajmael shook his head in shame and sadness. _"Apparently I was wrong, and I buried a stranger next to the woman I loved."_

_"Now's not the time for nostalgic sentimentality, Inquisitor."_ Vivienne criticized coldly. _"We have to figure out a way out of here!"_

_"After seeing what these people did to the Freeman of the Dales, I don't relish taking up their hospitality any longer than is necessary."_ Dorian shuddered.

_"I don't want to be around these creepy elves anymore."_ Sera gagged_. "So let's find whatever's of value, and get the fuck out of here."_

_"Yes, robbing them certainly won't piss them off."_ Blackwall said sarcastically. _"Let's not push out luck, Sera."_

_"We got a plan out of here, Boss?"_ Iron Bull asked.

_"I will complete the task Nethras has asked of me."_ Rajmael answered flatly.

_"Surely, you cannot be serious!?"_ Briala yelled. _"You intend to let this man extort you?!"_

_"I know he is your brother, darling, but do you can't let anyone make demands of someone of your position."_ Vivienne informed. _"It could destroy the Inquisition."_

_"What's to stop these freaks from stabbing us in the back when you do what they want?!"_ Sera spat.

Rajmael glared at daggers at Sera. _"If you ever suggest the Nethras is a liar to my face again, Sera, I'll smash your head in."_

_"It is a legitimate concern, Inquisitor."_ Blackwall insisted_. "Assassins of any denomination are not to be trusted."_

_"These are some pretty badass elves. Do we really want to make enemies of them when we could have some kick-ass new allies?" _Iron Bull suggested.

_"Indeed. The Inquisition regularly hires trained assassins, and utilizes warriors of faith. How are these people any different?"_ Solas agreed.

_"That actually makes a lot of sense. After seeing what these guys did to those Freeman assholes, I'd rather have them fight on our side than piss them off."_ Varric added.

_"Nehtras has invoked Vir Sulevenan, and we have both sworn in the name of the Creators. All will be made clear once I've fulfilled my task." _Rajmael assured.

_"I too had a brother I would have done anything for, Rajmael. But do you truly think that after what he's done, he is someone worth aiding?"_ Cassandra asked with deep concern.

_"What he has done has nothing to do with it." _Rajmael answered. _"This is about me and him. And what I've done."_

Solas' brow furrowed curiously. _"Nethras said that you owed him. What did he mean by that?"_

Rajmael raised his hand to his face in shame. _"What happened to Nethras, Evanura's death, everything that happened to Eva. It was my fault." _The Inquisitor breathed a sigh of sorrow and regret. _"Almost three years ago, my clan had a difficult year. Winter was on its way, the forest wasn't kind with its yield, and the hunting was poor. Keeper Deshana was away with another clan, and as the First of Clan Lavellan, it was my job to try and secure us with more supplies before the seasons turned. I approached a local village outside of Ansburg to trade goods, halla horns, rare herbs and ironbark for supplies. Nethras warned me not to, told me the shemlen would not honor any arrangement with us. But I ignored him, I was the acting leader and wanted to do things my way. I spoke with the village leader and the local Chantry Mother and we agreed to trade my goods for dried food, crafting materiel and blankets. I…got our supplies and left without issue."_

_"So, your first act as leader went without a hitch. Job well done."_ Dorian commented.

_"Yeah, your people got a good deal. How was that a bad thing?"_ Varric shrugged.

_"Because deception is one of the most defining features of human nature."_ Solas answered.

_"Exactly."_ Rajmael confirmed. He tried to hide it, but there were tears forming in his eyes. "_It was the blankets, those fucking blankets I traded halla antlers for. They gave us diseased blankets, and by the time we were in the woods, the sickness had already set in. I tried to use my magic to heal as many as I could, but too many were ill and we couldn't go further to safety. Eva's hand was so hot, I thought she was going to die. Evanura couldn't leave her daughter's side, but Nethras…he blamed me for Eva's sickness, and he was right."_

_"Those people were shits, the lot of 'em."_ Sera scowled.

Iron Bull shook his horned head. _"Wow. Just when I thought people couldn't be even bigger dickheads."_

_"It's amazing what lows some people will stoop to."_ Vivienne sighed.

_"Keeper Deshana returned and she was able to gather enough supplies to cure the clan, but that wasn't all."_ Rajmael continued. _"That fucking Chantry Mother knew I was a mage, and she sent the templars after us. They launched a surprise attack, many of us were still too weak from being sick to fight back. They set fire to our camp and tried to steal our children who had magical talent. Evanura fought and tried to carry Eva away to safety." _Tears were now streaming from Rajmael's eyes as he tried to hold back a sob. _"I…watched from thirty yards as the woman I loved was shot down by arrows….Eva tried to wake her mother up, called her name, but Evanura was gone. Nethras and I were able to run the templars off, but when he found Evanura slain. When I saw him cradling his wife's body to him, I knew…I knew something broke inside him, then he chased after the templars. Twenty members of clan were killed, including children, I lost a brother and Evanura, and Eva became an orphan, all because I made one stupid fucking mistake."_

_"Rajmael, I…I'm so sorry."_ There were now tears forming in Cassandra's eyes, but she quickly wiped them away. Her heart was truly broken for Rajmael. First his parents, then those he loved? The world was cruel to elves, and it had been particularly cruel to him. She knew all too well what it was like to lose a brother, but Rajmael lost more than that, and he lost it all to human bigotry and hate. Something that the Chantry had allowed to happen.

Mother Giselle also had tears in her eyes, but she did not dare wipe them from her face_. "I am as well. You were right to be angry with the Chantry. What those people did…was evil."_

_"Well…shit."_ Was all Varric could bring himself to say. Varric had family like a rat has fleas, but he considered them to be more of business than kin. Hawke and his friends were more family to him than anyone else. But Rajmael did have a family, one that he actually loved, and it seemed all the world wanted was to take that from him.

This would certainly explain much. Vivienne thought Rajmael's childhood trauma was the reason behind most of his decisions. Not she knew it was because of how the peons of the world had treated his people. But his people's continuing refusal to join the rest of the world is what leads the fearful and the ignorant to attack them. As the Inquisitor, he should be above such callow reproach.

Now Sera understood why the Inquisitor was so hard on her about Verchiel. He was trying to do a good thing even though someone else told him he shouldn't, and it killed a lot of people. And he loves his people. But it would have all worked out if those people weren't a bunch of shits.

Trying to kill people with tainted blankets? That's a sick way to kill people! Iron Bull had seen Vints and Tal-Vashoth use such tactics to try and wipe out whole villages. But as heinous as that is, they do it because they're at war, those fuckers did it simply because they don't like elves. Suddenly the Vir Banal'ras didn't seem so bad.

Dorian never liked associating with elves. Not because he felt superior to them, and that they were beneath him, quite the contrary. Whereas others from his homeland felt pride in destroying the elves and enslaving them, Dorian could only feel shame. They wiped out an entire people and turned them into slaves, they still did. Only truly evil people could delight in such a terrible fact. One that Corypheus embodied and wanted to relive.

Human cruelty to elves was not just familiar to Briala, but it was a fact of life. Elves in the city lived in constant fear of humans, wondering what the humans might do to them, and hoping that they can avoid them. Briala's first encounter with the Dalish ended horrifically, and made left her with the impression that the Dalish didn't care for elves simply because they lived with humans. But now she realized the Dalish suffer at human hands just as much. And unlike the City Elves who have found ways to live with humans, the Dalish are hunted by them like animals, simply because they wish to continue living like elves.

_"You're too hard on yourself. You did nothing wrong."_ Blackwall was all too familiar with what one mistake can do. Not only to yourself, but to those you look after as well. But there was no ambition, no malice, or selfishness in what Rajmael did. He was only trying to look after his clan. And those people made him suffer for it.

_"Indeed. You were only trying to provide for your clan. That the humans used your desperation as a means to attack you speaks of their failure, not yours."_ Solas insisted. While Solas did feel sorrow for what happened to Rajmael, he also felt a sense of admiration. Rajmael

_"But Nethras warned me, and I refused to listen. Because I wanted to act like a leader, and my first act as leader brought ruin to my clan, and Nethras' family was destroyed because I didn't listen to him."_ Rajmael remembered bitterly_. "And now I have to make it right with my brother, and it's the only way to find out what the Vir Banal'ras is up to."_

_"And you're not going to get that done passing around sob stories." _Velara rudely interjected. _"I got better things to do than listeing to you people cry."_

_"Having my foot dropped into your mouth is never a better thing for anyone, but that's what's going to happen if keep up the attitude!"_ Rajmael warned. He turned to his companions one last time before leaving with a foreboding look on his face_. "I must go now, but listen carefully: do not underestimate Nethras. Everything I know about warfare and combat, I learned from him. And do not seek to provoke him, or the other member of the Vir Banal'ras. And trust in me, I will come back."_

And with that, the Inquisitor left his companions to complete a near hopeless task to make up for what he did to his brother, and to save his them from a near mythical cult of elven assassins that could make the Antivan Crows piss their pants. All so he could gain Nethras' trust and learn what the Vir Banal'ras was after. After everything that Rajmael had done for the shemlen, it was time for him to do something for his own people.

**~XoXoXo~**

Not long after Rajmael had left the temple, Velara returned to the room where his companions were being held, and she brought armed guards with her.

_"Marquis Briala. You are to come with us." _Velara ordered.

Briala knew she didn't like the look of this. _"Why?"_

_"Because if you do not, I'm going to shoot that Chantry Mother right between the eyes, and then I'm going to kick your flat-eared ass. How's that sound?"_ Velara answered as several of her men pointed their arrows at Mother Giselle. No one dared move lest they provoke these homicidal elves.

_"What do you want?"_ Briala demanded.

_"We have questions, and you have answers. Does that clear things up for you?"_ The elven asssassin gritted through her teeth.

_"Nethras promised that no harm would come to us while the Inquisitor performed his task."_ The Marquis reminded.

_"No. He promised no harm would come to any member of the Inquisition, and we all know you're not a member of the Inquisition, right Marquis?"_ Velara answered agitatedly. _"Now get moving before I get homicidal."_

With those archers pointing their arrows at her, and remembering what she saw that these people did to the Freeman of the Dales, Briala knew she had no choice. She followed Velara to through the hallways trying to memorize every path and detail, but she couldn't help but wonder what this Velara's agenda was. She was not a Dalish elf, and judging from her accent, she wasn't from Orlais.

_"I'm curious, Velara, what's a Fereldan city elf doing in a cult of Dalish assassins?"_ Briala finally asked.

_"What, you think just because I'm a fellow city elf that I'm suddenly going to be your girlfriend and do your hair for you?"_ Velara mocked. _"Piss off."_

_"I merely find it odd that an elf from the city would risk so much for the cause of one mad Dalish elf." _

_"Nethras' cause is the cause of all elves, in the city and the forest."_ Velara responded coldly.

_"What happened to Nethras and his family was a terrible crime, but do you honestly think that what he's done will improve the lives of elves. It will only lead to the loss of more elven lives."_

_"What do you know about the lot of elven lives?!"_ Velara asked indignantly. _"Not every all of us can whore ourselves out to imperial monarchs. The rest of us have to live in the real world! You want to know about me, and the others like me? Fine! I was born in a small village in Ferelden called Lothering, my brother moved to Denerim as soon as he was old enough to marry. When the Blight attacked, my family fled to Orlais. A few years later I learned that my big brother and his whole family were sold to Tevinter slavers by Arl Howe."_

That took Briala back a bit. She knew there were those who still practiced slavery by kidnapping elves in the Alienages. No one ever cared if an elf went missing there_. "I…I'm sorry for what happened to your brother but…."_

_"Shut up! I'm not done!"_ Velara yelled. _"You wanted the whole story, and you'll get it. My parents died from a fever, and I moved to Halamshiral. Eventually I was able to make a living as a seamstress and I married a tailor, his name was Allan. And we had two children, a boy and a girl. Their names were Jaras and Shari, and they were beautiful. We were poor but we were happy. And then those shems killed Lemet, and all of Halamshiral rebelled."_

Briala's eyes went wide. She remembered that event vividly_. "I remember. The elves rebelled for a just reason, and they were met only with more injustice."_

_"You came to the fucking Alienage to get us back to making nice with the humans under orders of the Empress, and when she set our Alienage on fire, you got away in one of her fucking carriages! And while you were getting to safety, my husband and my babies were burned alive!"_ Tears of anger and pain were now stinging Velara's eyes.

_"What the Empress did was a terrible crime, one that I wanted to see avenged."_ Briala reminded. _"It was why I chose to lead the elves of Orlais against the Empress and the Duke, to see that we would no longer be treated like animals!"_

_"I know. I was one of the elves who fought in your guerilla army."_ Velara revealed hatefully.

Now that was a surprise to Briala. _"Then why are you doing all this!? Everything that we fought for, everything that we accomplished and can accomplish could be destroyed by what Nethras is doing!"_

_"Because I want justice for what they all did to my family!"_ Velara screamed. _"I don't want to live with the shemlen! I wanted the Empress pretty head on a pike for murdering my husband and my children! I fought for you because I wanted a world where elves were the masters of our destiny! And then you betrayed us. You returned back to the loving arms and bedroom of your sweet Celene and made an alliance with Orlais, and got a fancy little title to go with it. You would rather we stay subservient to the shems, but it will not be that way. Not with Nethras leading us."_

Velara finally led them to a dark empty room. Not windows, not windows, not even chains or torture devices like Briala was expecting. _"So, what now? Do you intend to torture me for my supposed betrayal?"_

_"Not just that."_ Velara answered sinisterly. Pain shot through Briala's brain as tears filled her eyes and he nose bled when Velara jammed her fist right into the Marquis' nose. _"You have information that Nethras wants, information that will be useful to our cause. And how much you suffer is going to be entirely up to you."_

Briala nose suddenly began to heal and runes lit up all over the room. What kind of magic was this? She assumed a fighting stance and tried to attack, but Velara moved with such speed that it was physically impossible, and smacked Briala in the face, leaving an imprint of her palm on Briala's cheek.

_"Unfortunately, I don't have the authority to use more invasive techniques, so you're going to be my little sparring buddy."_ Velara smiled. _"Don't worry this room was made so that the ancient warriors could fight each other with all their might but not kill on another, all your wounds will keep healing, and then you'll taste some more pain."_

_"You…you're not mortal are you?"_ Briala reasoned as she spat the blood out of her mouth. There was no way seamstress from Lothering could move so fast or be so strong without being possessed.

_"Quite mortal, actually. Just…enhanced, I guess you could say."_ Velara laughed as he eyes began to glow with an unnatural power. _"One of the side benefits of Elgar'nan's Blessing."_

Elgar'nan's Blessing? That phrase kept turning up since this whole nightmare began. Was that what made these elves so strong that a platoon of Chevaliers couldn't kill them? Was that what made that one elf explode?_ "What is Elgar'nan's blessing?"_

Velara knocked the wind out of Briala with a powerful horse kick to her stomach. Briala felt several ribs break, but then they started healing again. _"I'll ask the questions, Marquis. And the one I need answered, that you need to answer, if you want to stop being my punching bag, is what the passphrase to access the eluvians is?"_

Briala's eyes went wide with shock. That's what this was about? No. She could not let these people have the eluvians, no matter what. _"I will never tell that to you!" Briala defied._

_"You know what? I was hoping you'd say that."_ Velara chuckled, and she continued beating Briala like a marching drum.

**~XoXoXo~**

The winds were howling fiercely, like a thousand angry screams that wanted to insult the mountains. His legs were hurting from walking this far, but he had to keep going. Cole had been following the trail the angry elves lefts behind when they took his friends. The angry elves left no tracks, so he had to follow the anger and pain they left behind as they walked. It was hard, but he was able to follow.

Good thing they weren't able to see him. They defeated the other so quickly, but they weren't able to see him, and now he can rescue his friends. The masked angry elf who hurt Rajmael was different from the others. There was a terrible aching pain inside him. So much sorrow, hate and anger, but there was also love, pride and determination too. He was happy to see Rajmael, but he hurt him. Why would he hurt someone he was happy to see?

Cole was close to the mountains, the trail of anger was getting stronger. Soon he would find where the angry elves were, and he could find his friends. The trail stopped dead right at the sheer side of a tall mountain. Cole looked up and saw that it was very high. The trail of anger somehow floated up there, and that's where his friends are. Cole was nervous, he didn't like climbing. Gravity didn't like it when people were too high up and wanted hug them back to the ground, no matter how messy it was. Unless they were birds, the winds and gravity liked birds. Sometimes Cole wishes he could be a bird. Cole began to grab the rocks that were strong and friendly, while ignoring the winds angry howling. Soon he would be with his friends again, and he could help them. He just hoped they weren't hurting right now.

**Author's Note:**

**Dragon Age and all of its content are the propter of the BioWare Gaming Company. I own and claim nothing.**

**Please leave me a review and give your thoughts.**

**The Way of Shadow: Part III is coming up next. So keep an eye out.**


	19. The Way of Shadow: Part III

**The Way of Shadow: Part III**

**Back at Skyhold…**

It had been several days since the Inquisitor had left to deal with the Freeman of the Dales. Normally Leliana would not be worried, but there were no reports back from them, none of their scouts or forward camps reported any word of them since Rajmael led his companions to the old temple of Elgar'nan. Leiana prayed they were alright. After years of playing the Game, Josephine was an expert about keeping her true feelings hidden, but Leliana could tell how nervous her friend was after she got done looking over several diplomatic writs for the seventh time. Cullen, like most Fereldans, was not subtle about how he was feeling. He stood over the War Table, scowling at the map like it offended him. Leliana, on the other hand, remained quiet. Years of being a bard had taught her to never show emotions, never show fear or anger. However, with the Inquisitor and his entire party missing, Leliana couldn't help but be worried.

"_Has there still been no word?"_ Cullen asked, still glowering at the War Table.

"_None. My scouts still report nothing."_ Leliana answered trying to hide her concern.

"_Should we be worried? I could call in several factions who us favors to descreetly look for them."_ Josephine suggested nervously.

"_There's no need. I know where they are." _Said the voice that could only belong to the Inquisitor.

"_Inquisitor? Thank the Maker!"_ Leliana breathed with a sigh of relief.

"_Indeed. We were starting to worry."_ Josephine agreed.

"_You were right to be worried. We have a serious problem."_ Rajmael informed grimly.

Rajmael spent the next half an hour explaining to his advisors the dire situation he found himself in. The existence of the Vir Banal'ras, the continued existence of his adopted brother, Nethras, and the impossible task Nethras has demanded of Rajmael. To say that his advisors were appalled was a massive understatement.

"_And you just left them there? In the hands of that maniac!?"_ Cullen yelled_. "I know you said he's your brother, but do you honestly think they'll be safe?"_

"_Nethras has sworn in the name of the Creators that no harm will come to them. I have never known him to be a liar, especially when it comes to such an oath."_ Rajmael assured.

"_But you also thought you knew him to never abandon his daughter, do you truly think he is more trustworthy for that?"_ Leliana pointed out.

"_That I don't trust him is exactly why I chose to accept his request."_ Rajmael answered with disappointment in his words. _"He is after the Sulevin Blade. I cannot allow that to fall into his, or anyone else's hands."_

"_I still do not understand. What is this Sulevin Blade you mentioned?"_ Josephine asked. _"What makes it so dangerous?"_

"_It is one of the most powerful weapons ever created by elven hands, and a secret known only to Dalish Keepers. And a warning against the very actions that the Vir Banal'ras represent."_ Rajmael lamented.

"_What do you mean? What is the history of this weapon?"_ Leliana inquired.

"_I don't know the exact history of the weapon, I doubt anyone does."_ Rajmael sighed_. "All the Keepers agree that it was forged in the time of Arlathan. Some say it was forged in an ancient temple to Mythal to represent her justice. Others say it was forged by the hand of Andruil herself to slay the Forgotten Ones, and then there's those who believe it was wielded by Elgar'nan to carry out his vengeance. But whatever the case may be, it is known that the sword has enough power to kill a high dragon with a single stroke."_

"_Sweet Maker…."_ Cullen awed. _"If such a weapon exists, why don't the elves have it?"_

"_Indeed. Such a weapon could turn the tide of battle."_ Leliana added.

"_Hubris."_ Rajmael answered bitterly. _"During the Exalted March on the Dales, a group of angry, bitter, stupid elves stole the Sulevin from its holy resting place, kidnapped a group of humans and then used them in some kind of blood ritual to try and enhance the blade's power. And in so doing, they desecrated that holy artifact, and powerful spirits from beyond the Veil answered blood with blood. Some people think that the ritual went wrong and summoned those spirits. Others think that those spirits were the ones who oversaw the creation of the sword and were enraged at the sight of such desecration. But whatever the truth maybe, it is a fact that those angry spirits still guard that Shards of Sulevin, and no one who has ever gone to the Cradle of Sulevin has ever returned."_

"_Holy Andraste."_ Leliana whispered. _"You knew about this weapon all this time?"_

"_If it wasn't broken and useless, I would have led an expedition to get the sword before Corypheus did, considering that he is searching for elven artifacts."_ Rajmael explained practically. _"But now Nethras wants it, and that means he's got some kind of plan for that blade. One we must be prepared for."_

"_You have a plan then?"_ Cullen asked.

"_Yes, but it must be quick, and I can only trust you three to it."_ Rajmael said with determination. _"Leliana, I want you to ready all available scouts and agents you have available get them ready to move. Josephine, call in any favor we have with the other Dalish clans, get their hunters, and Agents Neria anc Cillian to meet with the agents. And Cullen I want you to get The Bull's Chargers ready and wait here."_ Rajmael placed a pin on the map for the Chargers to standby. _"And get Dagna on standby, I want the forge hot and every piece of magical enchantment she has ready by the time I get back."_

"_And what will you be doing?"_ Cullen inquired.

"_I will be going to the Cradle of Sulevin, and I'm going to get that fucking sword."_ Rajmael determined with zeal.

"_But you said no who has gone there has ever returned, what if something happens to you?"_ Josephine fretted.

"_I survived the Temple of Sacred Ashes, I walked the annals of time, and I stared down Corypheus and his pet dragon. I will take back what belongs to my people, and I will find out Nethras is doing. And I'm taking my people back."_ Rajmael swore.

The ring and power in Rajmael's voice put his advisors fears to rest. There was no doubt, no hesitation and no fear in the Inquisitor. Josephine scribbled several notes on her clipboard while Cullen left to assemble his ordered forces. Leiana watched as Rajmael walked to the vault where the most priceless treasures they discovered were housed. Leliana could sense a certain change in Rajmael, it was the same one she felt in Aedan when he first discovered the Urn of Sacred Ashes.

Rajmael held the sword Evanura in his hands. The blade glimmered like precious silver in the dark light of the vault. He traced his finger on the elven runes stamped on the blade and felt their power surge through his arm. He would need its strength to help him recover the Sulevin Blade. When he made his way back down he shouldn't have been surprised to see his Councilors waiting for him in the Main Keep.

"_Something is different about you, Rajmael."_ Leliana stated. _"Even when we started the Inquisition there wasn't this kind of fire in you. Is it because you blame yourself for what happened to your brother."_

Leliana never called Rajmael by his name unless she was being extremely serious. _"When I saw Nethras back in that temple, I thought, hoped, that things could go back to the way things used to be. He and I could be brothers, and he could reunite with his daughter. But when I left that temple I realized that there is something different about him. The path he walks is one devoted only to bloodshed, and those who follow him are too angry to care about what damage they might cause. I have to try and bring them back from this path."_

"_Are you sure that's even possible?" _Leliana asked.

"_As the First of Clan Lavellan, priest of Dirthamen, and Nethras' brother, it's my duty to try and show them another path to follow. Maybe I can even bring them into the Inquisition."_ Rajmael answered.

_"Inquisitor, you just got done telling us how these fanatics butchered the Freeman of the Dales, like they were pigs in a slaughter house. And all in the name of some ancient god."_ Cullen derided. Rajmael flashed him an angry glare for the way he said fanatics. _"If these men are capable of doing such things, than they may be just as dangerous as the Venatori."_

_"If what you're saying is true, and these Vir Banal'ras are behind the recent attacks against the Orlesian military, nobility, Sweet Andraste, even the Grand Cathedral then any attempt to recruit them will absolutely destroy the Inquisition's reputation and our relations with other kingdoms."_ Josephine explain earnestly. "_We've only just started gaining the trust of nations, and exactly when we need them most. Anything that jeopardizes that will only assist Corypheus."_

_"I understand that you want to help him, Inquisitor, but the crimes these elves have committed are grave. Perhaps the best course of action would be to turn this catastrophe into our advantage."_ Leliana suggested.

_"What do you mean by that, Leliana?"_ Rajmael asked more suspicious than curious.

_"You say Nethras trusts you, yes? And you know that way to his base of operations. You could lead a group of our best scouts there, and we can mount a rescue mission."_ Leliana explained thoughtfully.

_"I'd recommend also bringing a contingency of our soldiers to make sure we keep the advantage."_ Cullen suggested firmly. _"Best to put this down now before it gets further out of hand."_

Rajmael's initial instinct was to smack both his advisors for making such suggestions. Break his word? To his Nethras? It was unthinkable.

_"Leliana, if you were anyone else, I would smack you upside the head you for even thinking that suggestion."_ Rajmael denied adamantly.

Leliana sighed wearily. _"Inquisitor, I know this is hard, but you need to put personal feelings aside."_

_"You don't know shit, Leliana! None of you do!"_ Rajmael snapped harshly. _"Nethras is my brother, and I gave him my word. I don't know what it's like for bards, Templars, and especially not politicians, but the word of an Arcane Warrior cannot be broken. You would not understand."_

Cullen took exception to that statement. _"Not understand? I understand more than you might think, Inquisitor! I have siblings as well, and I would do anything to protect them, but this isn't protection! You are letting your personal history with this man cloud your judgment! What happened to him was horrible, but it doesn't excuse the crimes he's committed. As the Inquisitor, your duty is to stop those who spread chaos, not do favors for them!"_

Rajmael growled angrily at his Commander, and nearly gave into the impulse to want to strike him.

_"You stupid, ignorant shems."_ The Inquisitor seethed. "_What the fuck could any of you know? In case you've forgotten, before you all decided to make me Inquisitor, I was an elf. None of you can possibly understand what that means! A Templar, a bard, a noble, what could the likes of you know what it's like for elves?! None of you know what it's like to wake up every morning knowing the entire world is set against you. You don't understand what it's like to walk through the world and have everyone look at you like you're garbage, to have everything that means something stolen from you. And it's always the likes of people like you, the Chantry and the nobility, who violate my people!"_

Pangs of guilt stabbed at each of the Councilor's hearts, and his words cut deeper than any blade ever could. None of the dared to say another word, because everything he said was absolutely true.

_"The Chantry broke Nethras the same way it broke me: with fire and destruction!"_ Rajmael raged. _"As his brother, and as an elf, it's my responsibility to stop him, but I will not betray him. This will be done the elven way, not yours. Your way has caused enough damage."_

There was nothing any of them could say. Cullen, Leliana, Josephine, they were all at a loss for words. In their hearts, all three of them had sympathy for the elves, but none of them could truly understand what it was like to live as elves do, to suffer as elves do. Compared to the elves, the three of them may as well be from different worlds.

Rajmael turned his back on his advisors, and made his way out.

"_And if you fail in the Cradle of Sulevin?" _Josephine asked after him very worried.

The Inquisitor looked at his Ambassador with dark resolve behind his eyes. _"That, Josephine, is simply not an option."_

"_We will be ready when you call us."_ Leliana promised.

They all watched as the Inquisitor made his way out, and all they could do was hope and pray that he knew what he was doing. Going after a long lost elven relic that none lived to return from, while dealing with a cult of elven assassins, and trying to rescue their captured comrades; it seemed like a hopeless endeavor to most. But they all knew Rajmael had beaten impossible odds before, and they also knew that this was truly an elven matter, something he knew more of than any of them. His words left a fire of guilt burning in the back of their minds, and they couldn't help but feel terrible about this whole matter.

_"He...he's right. Damn it if he's right."_ Cullen admitted in shame. _"I've seen how horribly the elves are treated back in Kirkwall. Half the Alienage converted to the Qun when the Qunari attacked, and I thought of them as traitors for turning their backs on the Chantry. I didn't realize until later that they didn't owe the Chantry anything. They were always the victims of gangs, slavers and serial killers, but nobody gave a damn. We could have helped them, but in the end we deemed them unimportant."_

_"It was the same in Denerim's Alienage during the Blight."_ Leliana recalled with pity. _"Condemned building with bodies rotting inside them. They were treated so horribly, Arl Howe led a purge, then Loghain began selling them into slavery. It seems the elves have always been the object of the world's ire."_

_"Sweet Andraste. I...I never realized it was so terrible for the elves. I never took them time to."_ Josephine lamented with guilt. _"All the times I talk about peace and mutual benefits for everyone at the meeting table, how we should make things better for everyone, yet not once did I ever consider how we might make things better for elves. How many times have I looked at elven servants and never gave them the time of day? Worse yet, how often have I expected elves to be servants?"_

_"But he was right about another thing. The fault is almost always the same: humans. The Chantry especially."_ Cullen said damningly.

Leliana was dismayed by the Commander's words._ "Cullen, how can you say such a thing?"_

_"Leliana, you had the fortune to see the Chantry at it's best at Lothering and at Divine Justinia's side, but those were the exceptions, not the rule."_ Cullen stated pragmatically. _"In the real world, the Chantry is something you wouldn't recognize. What Hawke said was true: it was those who served the Chantry who incited violence against the Qunari, and it has always been the Chantry that diminished the elves. Everyone else just followed the Chantry's example, and I'm speaking from personal experience."_

For once, Leliana had nothing to say in defense of the Chantry. Nothing she could say could change the fact that Cullen was right. The Chantry had made so many mistakes, and in so doing it made many enemies by demonizing mages, brutalizing elves and diminishing dwarves. The Mage-Templar war was the ultimate proof of the Chantry's failures. No matter what happened, if the Chantry was going to survive this age it needed to change drastically. Maybe Leliana was the one to make sure that it did change, to make sure that Justinia's dream did not die with her...

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael sheathed Enasalin to his hip, and strapped Evanura to his back. When he was training to be an Arcane Warrior, he used to fantasize about reclaiming the Sulevin Blade from its resting place. But the instant he told that to Keeper Deshana, she shattered any and all desire to attempt such a feat. Deshanna relayed to him the horrible fates that befell the elves brave or stupid enough to seek out that sword. How the Revenants who guarded the Shards of Sulevin horrifically murder any and all who dare enter their domain to take their prize. But most of all, she told Rajmael where it could be found so that he might never go there. And now he must have it. To keep it out of the hands of The Elder One…and his brother.

**The Cradle of Sulevin…**

The Cradle was hidden deep within the Emerald Graves, where to forest was so thick and the wildlife so treacherous none dared traverse these hidden paths. But Rajmael knew the path, and he knew how to navigate the forest. Strange. The closer he got to the Cradle, the more silent the forest became. No birds flying, or even insects scurrying. It was so still he could hear his own heartbeat almost echo through the trees. It was as if all forms of life could sense the power and evil emanating from the once holy place that became tainted by the elves' hatred, anger and pride.

Like many of the elven ruins, the Cradle was now a desecrated corpse of what it once was. Towers fell in ruin while the once mighty walls were left crumbling and were now covered with ivy and thorns. As Rajmael walked the steps up he could feel the dark energy coming from it. The Veil was thin and the demons that dwelled here were waiting. He must not keep them waiting.

Rajmael entered the hall where the energy was at its darkest, most vile. He could feel the Shards' power, they were here. And he could feel the presence of the demons watching him. They were more powerful than the Pride Demon he slew in the Temple of Sacred Ashes. And they were waiting for him.

"_Quenethera ne?"_ The voices of the demons asked from the darkness. Their words laced with malice and murder.

"_Emma Rajmael Yonwyn Lavellan."_ Rajmael answered fearlessly.

"_Garas quenethera Rajmael Yonwyn Lavellan."_ The demonic voices hissed.

Rajmael stood against the darkness with no fear or doubt in his mind and heart_. "I am here to claim the Sulevin Blade."_

The demons laughed at him from the shadows. Their shrill voices and evil presence was enough to curdle the blood in a man's veins. _"What right have you to claim the sword from us?"_

"_I claim right of inheritance."_ Rajmael answered audaciously. _"That sword was forged by elven hands, and to elven hands it must return."_

"_It was by elven hands that the sword was tainted. It was by the vanity and hate of The People that we came into being."_ The demons hissed and mocked. _"Many have come to wrest the shards from us. What hope do you have?"_

Rajmael drew both his swords and assumed his stance. _"I am Dirth'ena Enasalin. I am Rajmael of Clan Lavellan. And I will not falter."_

The shadows twisted and contorted within the Cradle. The dark energy and black magic that festered in this place took form. And from the darkness emerged four figures of terrifying horror. Four living corpses almost twice as tall as Iron Bull with fangs that would shame a lion, and eyes burning like the pits of hell beneath their draconic winged helms. Their armor was ancient and inscribed with blasphemous runes that spoke of all the crimes committed in the name of their sin. Each one carrying a disc-like shield bearing their vile names upon the face, and carrying a sword that was as long as they were tall. The Revenants all held out their hands and revealed Rajmael's prize, each carried a Shard of Sulevin in their mailed claws.

"_Come…claim the sword. Or claim your death._" The Revenants beckoned as the held their swords ready.

Rajmael's eyes burned with determination and power as his Shimmering Shield illuminated the darkness. His swords were ready, and his resolve was absolute. _**"ENASALIN!"**_

**Back In the Temple of Elgar'nan….**

Cassandra hated this situation they were in, probably more so than everyone else, even Sera. They were being held here as hostages, leverage to be used against Rajmael so that he would retrieve some elven sword and get answers from the man who has led several terrorist attacks against Orlais. A man who turned out to be Rajmael's adopted brother Nethras, who he thought was dead. But Nethras was alive, after being captured and tortured by the same templars the attacked his clan and murdered his wife after trying to kidnap his daughter. Now he was leading a cult of elven assassins devoted to a god of vengeance, and planning to do Maker knows what.

Cassandra's already limited patience was reaching its end. She couldn't stand this any longer. Mother Giselle was kneeling with her back to one of the walls reciting the Canticles of Benedictions. Cassandra sometimes wished she had that kind of patience_. _

_"I can't stand this any longer. We need to get out and find out what's going on!"_ Cassandra growled.

"_None of us are happy about being imprisoned, Cassandra dear, but it seems we have no choice." _Vivienne sighed. _"But thanks to the Inquisitor's incompetent sentimentality, we are prisoners here."_

"_Do not be so quick to condemn Rajmael's actions, Enchanter." _Solas spoke out. _"If it weren't for Rajmael's agreement to Nethras' terms, or if he wasn't even here in the first place, we could all very well have been killed by now."_

"_Heh. After how quickly these elves took us all out, I'd believe it."_ Varric chuckled sarcastically.

"_Grr. Can't believe those little fuckers got the drop on me."_ Iron Bull grumbled. _"Catching The Bull by the horns. Glad Krem wasn't there or I'd never hear the end of it."_

"_I share your enthusiasm for escape, Seeker. Really, I do."_ Dorian insisted_. "But I've spent the last few hours exhausting every counter spell, charm and hex I know on this door, and it just won't budge. Obviously, it's some kind of ancient elven magic."_

"_Stupid, friggin' elfy door."_ Sera whined. _"I could unlock the stupid thing if it weren't stupid, friggin' magic."_

"_Provoking our captors now serves no purpose."_ Mother Giselle counseled. _"It might be wise to wait for the Inquisitor and trust in his judgement."_

"_I'm more concerned for Marquis Briala."_ Solas informed. _"These elves did not seem pleased with her."_

"_The Inquisitor said Cole's still out there. Said we should put some faith in the boy."_ Blackwall reminded. _"If Rajmael's willing to do so, I don't see why we can't."_

Vivienne rubbed her forehead as though the very suggestion gave her a headache_. "Oh, Warden Blackwall….The very fact that you would suggest that we put our lives in the hands of that thing speaks volumes of both your judgment, and the Inquisitor's."_

The locks and tumblers in the door rumbled, and it swung open with a long, rusty creak. The two guards that were posted on the door were sprawled to on the ground completely out cold. Then Cole appeared from around the corner, his ridiculously large hat and all, carrying all their weapons.

"_Hello! I came to help."_ Cole said innocently.

Dorian, Varric, Blackwall and Solas all did their best not to snicker and laugh, while Vivienne rigidly stood there trying to hide her awkward embarrassment.

"_I'm sorry, Madame de Fer, you were saying something?" _Blackwall poked humorously.

"_Not. Another. Word."_ Vivienne seethed.

"Cole, were you able to find our weapons?" Cassandra asked earnestly.

"No...I was too busy trying to find you." Cole answered quiet as a mouse. "But I know where we can find them."

_"Then__ do you know where they've taken Briala?"_ The Seeker inquired.

"_Yes. I can find her. But there's so much pain, so much anger here. It will be hard, but I can find her." _Cole promised.

"_Well, let's get moving, then. I doubt these guys are gonna be happy to see us out and about."_ Varric pointed out.

Cole began running down the shadowy halls. _"Follow me."_

**~XoXoXo~**

The Spirit of Compassion led them down the dimly lit hallway to another cell similar to the one they were imprisoned in. But this one's magic was different. Unlike the one they were in, this one's enchantments weren't designed for keeping prisoners inside. Which was a good thing because they could hear the sounds of blows landing on the other side, like someone was getting their ass kicked.

"_Feel like talking yet?!"_ Velara yelled on the other side of the door.

"_Not even close."_ Briala's voice defied, quickly followed by another powerful blow.

"_Good! Because I'm not bored of this yet."_ Velara said with twisted glee.

Cole quickly unlocked the door and threw it open. And was greeted by a very surprised Velara.

"_Who the fuck!?"_ The angry assassin cursed. She went for her bora'nan, but Cole threw a powder bomb in her face with a sleeping agent. She cursed and spat, but breathed in nothing but ether, and soon fell to the ground unconscious with her sickle still gripped in her fist. Briala picked herself up and grabbed the daggers strapped to Velara's belt with the intention to finish her off.

"_No!"_ Cole begged. _"She is not evil. She is only hurt and angry, and misses her children. She doesn't deserve to die."_

Briala thought back to how angry she was when Celene betrayed her back when Halamshiral's alienage was burned. And this woman suffered worse than she did. Briala sighed and removed the daggers from Velara's neck.

"_Are you alright, Marquis Briala?"_ Solas asked politely.

"_Seeing as I've just spent the better half of today getting beaten to a pulp, I'm actually doing quite well." _Briala answered truthfully. The healing powers of this room was actually extraordinary.

"_We're all together again. Now we need to find out what Nethras is planning."_ Cassandra stated.

"_That's the angry one who leads these people?"_ Cole asked rhetorically. _"He is…confusing. I have a hard time understanding him."_

Vivienne quirked her eyebrow. _"You've seen the elf that leads these terrorists?"_

"_Yes. So much pain flowing through him like a river. Anger mixed with sorrow, but…there's hope as well."_ Cole explained in that strange tone of his_. "He wants to hurt the people who hurt him. He wants to help by hurting."_

That seemed more fanatical than confusing. And certainly dangerous. _"Can you find him, Cole?"_ Cassandra asked.

"_Yes. He is calling the others to meet him. He wants to show them how they must take back what is theirs. I think he wants to hurt more people."_ Cole answered almost fearfully.

A stroke of inspiration that could only have passed through the mind of an author struck Varric's head. _"If they're all going to this rally, then that means there won't be as many guards skulking around. We can find a way out of here!"_

_"I agree with Master Tethras."_ Vivienne concurred. _"I've had enough of this place to last a lifetime."_

_"What they said. I don't want to be around this creepy elfy crap any more."_ Sera shuddered. Which was a surprise because she never agreed with Vivienne on anything.

_"What about the Inquisitor? He expects us to trust him."_ Dorian reminded.

_"These guys have an axe to grind with anyone who screwed with the elves, Dorian. What do you think they'll do to a pampered nobleman from Tevinter?"_ Iron Bull asked rhetorically.

That changed the Tevinter mage's mind pretty quickly. _"Hmm. Good point. Let's find that exit!"_

_"Not so fast, Sparkler. Before we can leave, we gotta find our gear."_ Varric pointed out.

Blackwall nodded his bearded face to the dwarf. _"I agree. I don't know about the rest of you, but I don't fancy running into one of these elven assassins with just my hands empty."_

_"Well, yeah there's that, too. But I'm more concerned about getting Bianca back. Who knows what these cutthroats might be doing to her!"_ Varric spoke with the genuine concern and fear a man would have for his wife. His attachment to his crossbow was almost disturbing to his companions.

"_Can you take us to our gear without being noticed?" _Briala asked.

"_Yes. I know how to move in the darkness. And anyone who finds us, I can make them forget."_ Cole answered quietly.

**~XoXoXo~**

Cole led his companions silently through the shadows and navigated the dark corridors of this ancient temple. It was difficult for most of them to move without fumbling around because of how dark it was inside, and most of them didn't have the night vision to see properly. Even the torches that were actually lit seemed to make it even darker. As if by design, it seemed this entire temple was built for elven eyes and their superior night vision to maneuver around this bleak place.

The Spirit of Compassion was able to lead them to a securely locked door without being detected. He fiddled with the lock a little and was able to get it to click open, revealing a dark chamber on the other side. Everyone scurried inside before they were seen, shut the door while Dorian lit some torches to illuminate the room. And there, sitting on a nearby table like holiday present, was all their weapons and gear that Nethras' men had confiscated from them.

_"Bianca! Oh, Bianca, Daddy's missed! Oh, you're so cold. Don't worry, I'll never leave you again."_ Varric whispered to his beloved crossbow like he was whispering into the ear of a dear lover. The way he caressed and held the inanimate object was almost disturbing to the rest of them.

Blackwall grabbed Thunderstrike and his shield while Cassandra sheathed The Avenger. Vivienne and Solas grabbed their staves, and Dorian tuned his magic with Toth's Torch. Sera checked her arrows and made sure her bow string was still taught. Iron Bull grinned widely as he felt the weight of the axe called Anaan in his hands and gave it a few test swings.

Iron Bull offered a dagger to Mother Giselle. _"Here, Chantry Mother, you'll probably need this. It isn't much, but it might help."_

"_No, thank you. My faith in the Maker is my protection."_ Mother Giselle gently refused as she pushed the weapon away from her.

"_Yeah? Well, I hope those prayers make you sickle-proof."_ Iron Bull said sarcastically has put the dagger in his belt. _"'Cause these elves sure know how to use those damned things."_

Blackwall stood near the door to make sure they were ready in case someone suddenly dropped in while they were getting ready to leave. Sera, on the other hand, couldn't ignore her kleptomaniacal urges, and started scrounging around the room, scrounging for anything valuable.

_"Looking for anything in particular, Buttercup?"_ Varric asked, strapping Bianca to his back.

_"You all saw all the goodies and shinnies that creepy elf had locked away in that room, maybe he's got some other things stashed away."_ Sera answered, her eyes scanning the room.

_"You would steal what these people have worked so hard to take back? Relics that have more than monetary value? Isn't that hypocritical of you, Sera?"_ Solas asked disapprovingly.

Sera blew a raspberry and a two-fingered salute at the elven apostate. _"Hippo-what? These creeps stole this stuff first, and there's nothing wrong with taking form takers."_

The thief's eyes locked onto a nearby table. It was very large and there was a sheet covering the very large contents that were on it. This had to be worth something for it be covered and locked away in this room like it was. "Ooh. Wonder what kind of shinnies this guy has hidden under here."

Sera ripped the large sheet off and revealed what was hidden beneath it. A shocked screech escaped her throat at the sight of what she found. Fearing the Red Jenny might bring unwanted attention with her screeching, everyone turned their attention to the loudmouthed elf, and saw what she screeched at, and almost did the same thing. Laid strewn were about a dozen dead bodies. Each desiccated corpse was in a state of decomposition none of them recognized. Their faces and flesh were shriveled as if the life had been sucked out of them, leaving nothing but dried out husks. The clothes they still wore were now so loos they could slid right off of them Each of them had terrible burns in their eye sockets and open mouths, like someone put flaming hot coals in them.

"Sweet Maker. What happened to these people?" Cassandra gasped in horror.

_"They look like a bunch of dried out prunes left out in the sun."_ Iron Bull observed.

_"Who were these people, and what could they possibly have done to have deserved a fate like this?"_ Mother Giselle asked with deep regret and sympathy for the poor souls on the table.

_"Wouldn't bother feeling too much sympathy for these men, Mother."_ Blackwall said gruffly. _"These poor bastards were Freeman of the Dales."_

Blackwall pointed to the clothing the dead men were still wearing and everyone noticed that it was the same uniform and colors the now wiped out Freeman of the Dales all wore. All of them still vividly recalled what the Vir Banal'ras did to anyone they found wearing those uniforms, and it wasn't pretty.

_"The Freeman were all killed horribly, but this is different."_ Solas pointed out._ "They took the effort kill them brutally, but why would they take the time to capture them and do...whatever this is to them?"_

_"Solas, darling, it should be obvious, even to someone whose never had a proper education. These people are insane fanatics. They are beyond reason."_ Vivienne said snidely.

_"You gotta be crazy to do something like this to someone. If ya hate 'em, just shoot 'em! Don't be gross and turn them into...people-jerky!"_ Said Sera, completely grossed out.

Varric took a closer look at the table and found something that any self-respecting writer would first notice. A book., old and worn out, but it was still in pretty good shape.

_"Maybe this can give us some insight into what went on in here. Looks like some kind of journal"_ Varric guessed. He opened the journal and flipped through its pages, checking to make sure he could actually read it. Upon seeing it was legible, Varric cleared his throat and began reading it. _"Evanura, my darling, beloved Evanura..."_

_"Evanura? That...that was Nethras' wife. Eva's mother!"_ Cassandra recalled.

_"Then that must mean this is his journal. This might give us the answers we've been looking for."_ Briala stated.

_"Well, then, let's allow Varric to do what he does best, and bump his gums."_ Dorian encouraged.

_"Alright, let's see what little secrets Nethras is keeping."_ Varric cleared his throat and began reading the journals entries aloud.

**Entry One:**

_Written_ old and worn with dark splotches on the pages, that looked like dried blood.

**Evanura, my darling, beloved Evanura,**

**It has been weeks now since the Templars and their damned Chantry took you from me. Weeks since I sought to avenge your murder at the hands of they holy knights. Months since I failed. I found your killers, but in my rage, I got careless and they overpowered me. They sought to make an example of me and take me to their putrid Divine. I would have welcomed the opportunity to meet the head of the humans' wretched religion if only to spit in her face. What manner of tyrant is she to lead a religion that steals and brutalizes our people and dare call it righteousness? **

**After weeks of starving and torturing me, I managed to escape during a blizzard while we were passing through the Frostbacks, but not before one of the bastards was able to cut me deeply. There's not a doubt in my mind now that everyone of those shemlen shits are either frozen dead, or now food for carrion, but I'm not much better.**

**I crawled my way into a crevice in the mountain side, then fell into a cavern. So here I am, starving, beaten, bones broken, and bleeding like a stuck pig. It seems I am very likely going to die here. The one upside about dying in a dark cave in the middle of nowhere is that Rajmael isn't here to bend my ear about how foolish I was. **

**If these are indeed my final moments, then I must beg your forgiveness, ma vhenan. I failed our clan as a hunter when I couldn't stop the Templars. I failed you as a husband when I couldn't prevent your death. And I failed our daughter as a father, because I will never be there for her. I close my eyes now, and pray that I will see you in the Beyond, if it's what I deserve.**

**Dareth shiral,**

**Nethras.**

**Entry Two:**

**It would seem the Creators are cruel in their judgment of me, Evanura. Instead of waking to find you in the Beyond, I wake up once more in this damned cave, starving and in horrible agony. Why must I still live when there are others amongst our clan who deserved to live more? **

**My wound has stopped bleeding, but I can hear the blizzard still raging on outside. I cannot reach the exit nor would I dare brave it my condition, so I will venture further in these caverns. I will either find a way out of this damned mountain, or maybe run into darkspawn. Either way, I don't expect to live much longer, if the Creators are merciful.**

**I must confess, there is something strange here. As I continued to wander these caverns, I felt like something was drawing me me further into the darkness. Like a strong compulsion that you cannot help but follow, like a moth to flame. The deeper I go, the clearer it becomes, like a call at the very edge of my mind. Given my luck, I'm probably going insane, but seeing as I've got nothing better to do, I may as well keep going, at least until my wounds kill me.**

**...It's strange. The feeling's gotten stronger now. Not louder or unbearable, but like a resounding boom in harmony with my own heartbeat. Like it's signaling me that I'm getting closer. But closer to what? Sadly, my wounds are getting worse. I can practically smell the infection, and I'm getting feverish. I'm not going to stop now, though. I'd like to satisfy my curiosity before I die, it might make an amusing story to tell my wife when I reach the afterlife. One that might even mask my shame.**

**Entry Three:**

**I've found something. That call I felt started sounding like war drums pounding in the back of my mind and in tandem with my pulse. I went into some sort of trance and found myself stumbling in these ancient ruins. At first I thought they might have been dwarven, seeing as I must be in the heart of the mountain, but once I got a better look at the walls and saw their design, I realized that these were elven ruins! Untouched, perfectly preserved. By Mythal's mercy, I've made a discovery**** that might make even Keeper Deshana green with envy!**

**Oh, Evanura, how I wish that you and Rajmael were here right now. The paintings I've found on these walls would make your heart soar, ma vhenan. You could have learned so much from these pieces of art, or maybe even added to it. I can see Rajmael picking a part every piece of these ruins to decipher some kind of meaning from them, and marveling at the works of our ancestors. Though I know this to all be vain, after all, what's the point of making such a discovery if there's no one else to know of it?**

**It would seem I have found the perfect place to die, ma vhenan. I barely have the strength to continue writing any more. There's a basin here with water as clear as the sky, and I may as well die refreshed. I toast my final moments to you, Evanura, to our daughter, and to this testament to our people's glory that will become my tomb.**

**Dareth shiral, ma vhenan...**

**Entry Four:**

**I...I can't explain it, Evanura. I should be dead, yet not only am I not, but I am completely healed! It was the water from the basin that I drank, it must have been. Not only am I completely healed, but I feel stronger than I have ever been! I was trying to get past a stone door that was sealed shut, I pushed it in frustration and smashed the wall into dust! Even on my best day, I could never do such a thing! What manner of ruin is this? I must learn more about it...**

**I'll admit archaeology and history were never my strong suits. I was the clan's hunter, not the First, but after decades of having and Keeper Deshana in my ears and exploring ruins with Rajmael, I was able to learn more than they might think. From what I have gathered, this ruin was a holy place for our people, a temple. The statues here, the great chambers, even the paintings on the walls, they are all so perfectly well preserved. Judging from the altars and the icons in this place, I am led believe that this is some kind of temple. A place where our ancestors congregated in prayer, or something like it.**

**Unlike most ruins that I have been in, that look like they were destroyed in war or some kind of cataclysm, this place is so perfectly preserved it leads me to believe it was abandoned. If so, then why? Why would our ancestors abandon this place? For whatever reason, it seems that by leaving this place, they were able to keep it from being destroyed by human hands. Perhaps I can discover the reason for myself. **

**I wish Rajmael were here, he could help me decipher these ancient runes and writings. I wish you were here, ma vhenan, I know this place would have meant so much to you. Perhaps, when I am done here, I can bring Eva and the rest of our clan to this place, to rediscover our lost heritage.**

**Entry Five:**

**I was wrong! So very wrong. Not only have I discovered the true nature of this place, but now I believe that it is no mere coincidence that I found it. This _was_ a temple, but it wasn't used as a place of worship. It was a training center for warriors who served the Creators personally, and I have discovered which of our gods this temple was dedicated to: Elgar'nan, the All-Father, First of the Sun, and god of vengeance! And these warriors, they were Vir Banal'ras! Shadow Warriors trained to be the All-Father's weapons of vengeance.**

**The murals on the walls here depict how these warriors trained and fought, how they wielded strength that surpassed anyone else's. How they struck from the shadows with their Bora'nan and burning eyes. Now I know how they received such abilities. It was that basin I drank from. It's carries some kind of blessing from Elgar'nan himself. Elgar'nan enansal!**

**I no longer believe that it is merely chance that I found this place. I was on a quest to avenge my wife, and I came here, beaten, bloody and broken, ready to die, then I felt some sort of call that led me to this place, to partake in Elgar'nan's Blessing. But to what end? For what reason do I have this blessing? My wife is dead, and so are her killers. I...I could go back to my clan now, and see my daughter again, but the shame is just too much to bear. I couldn't protect Eva when it mattered, and I couldn't even avenge Evanura's death properly. I would return to my clan as a disgrace, and bring nothing but shame to daughter.**

**I will stay here, for now, and continue to study and decipher what the Vir Banal'ras were truly capable of. Perhaps, by unlocking these ancient secrets, I can absolve myself of my shame, and return to my daughter with a piece of our history that will benefit all elves.**

**Entry Six:**

**My darling Evanura,**

**It has been two years now since I exiled myself to this ancient ruin. I spend my days honing my skills, studying the ways of the ancient Vir Banal'ras and unlocking the secrets of this temple. I now understand that Elgar'nan's wrath was a terrible and bloody thing. Something even the Chantry and the Imperium could not possibly understand. Thus the Vir Banal'ras was created, to be the agents of his wrath. The things I've learned would make all the Keepers at the Arlath'vhen question what they think they know about our history. For it is bloodier than they ever knew it to be.**

**I will confess, ma vhenan, that there are many days where I am tempted to just simply leave this place. Not a day goes by that I don't think of our daughter and how she is doing. I know Rajmael and my parents are taking good care of her, better care than I could probably give her. I...I still remember the day Rajmael delivered Eva and put her into my arms. I remember how happy you were to be a mother, and how blessed I was to have you both. But then I remember why I am no longer worthy to be a hunter of Clan Lavellan. How I failed the clan when I let the Templars kill you and so many others of our clan. I cannot return, not yet.**

**I wish that I wasn't writing this entry in such a pathetic state, but what I learned today reminded me of things I wish I could undo. By chance, I was walking the mountain passes when I came across a group of our City Elven brethren. They were starving and exhausted to the point of death, so I brought them here and gave them food. There are so many of them, enough to form a clan. How could I turn them away?**

**They tell me that they are from Halamshiral, our former capital. They tell me how they were sick of the human nobles treating them like garbage on land that rightfully belongs to them and declared mien'heral against them. They told me how the Orlesian bitch Empress purged their Alienage like their lives meant nothing, like their demands for justice were nothing.**

**I feel for our City Elf brothers and sisters, I truly do. I think back to when Rajmael was adopted into our clan because the humans killed his parents, and I know that the elves who live with humans must suffer daily under shem'len boots. They tell me the Empress did it so that she could focus her attention on waging a war against a cousin who wants to usurp her throne. That damned chair of hers means more to her than the lives of our people, and what one more crime against the elves when she wants to rule an empire? Bitch.**

**They have also told me of an elven woman named Briala who is leading a rebellion against the humans. Not only is she leading it, she's is successful. Apparently, she has some sort of ancient relic at her disposal. Good. I hope she bloodies those shems' noses. It's about time one of our kind shows the Orlesians not to tread on our people.**

**I have resolved to teaching our city elf kin in the ways of the Vir Banal'ras, so that they might contribute to Briala's rebellion. Amongst them is a woman named Velara. She has told me of everything she has lost, and my heart weeps for her. Of them all, I think she might be the most worthy of the Elgar'nan Enansal, and she is most eager to learn the ways of the Vir Banal'ras. She is a gifted student, no doubts about that. I have agreed to teach them what I know so that they might aid in the rebellion, but I ask that they tell no one where they learned it, I don't want the news to somehow reach our clan.**

**Our City Elven brethren also tell me that now there is a war between the mages and Templars. Apparently, the Chantry is so weak and feeble now that it can't hold the leashes on those they wish to hold like dogs. I hear that the Divine wants to hold some sort of peace talks, some kind of Conclave to bring the mages and Templars back into the fold. I hope that bitch and all her Templars burn in that Conclave of hers.**

**Entry Seven:**

**You wouldn't believe how much I was laughing my ass off when I woke up this morning. I heard from one of the refugees who brings me news of the war that the Divine was actually blown up, along with her whole damned Conclave. Best news I've heard in years! It was a wish come true. Sometimes the Creators actually answer our prayers.**

**But now the remaining servants of the Divine are calling for something called an "Inquisition", probably just another call to their hypocritical holy wars, like their Exalted Marches. But that's not the best part; they are declaring the only person to survive to be the Herald of Andraste, and he's a fucking elf! ****If their Maker really exists, then he must really hate their guts! I wish could have see the looks on those Chantry biddies' faces when they heard this news. To have an elf declared higher than them must have made twisted their robes into knots.**

**Velara came back to continue her lessons, and as I mentioned before, she is an eager and capable student. She informs me that the elven rebels are now a force to be reckoned with. Both Gaspard and Empress Celene are now noticing their capability and taking losses, though neither of them would ever admit it. It would be too embarrassing for them to admit they're being hampered by us pitiful knife-ears, or worse yet, they'd have to actually acknowledge our existence as something more than mere servants.**

**Lately I have been hearing news about these so-called Freeman of the Dales. Deserters and traitors from both sides of the Orlesian Civil War who've abandoned their oaths, and now seek to take the Dales for themselves. That's low, even to someone like me. It makes me sick that these traitors and oathbreakers dare to lay claim to our rightful land. It sickens me further that these Orlesians are destroying the Dales with their pitiful war, like it's actually theirs to ruin. **

**This land was promised to us by their damned Andraste, and after taking it from us, they use it like a commodity or a cheap whore to be used and discarded when they're done with it. With the blessings of the Creators, Velara is right and Briala will take back this land for the elves. **

**I must confess, Evanura, that this alleged Herald of Andraste intrigues me. If this this Herald truly is an elf, then he is the first of our people to be risen so high since Thane Shartan. I am curious as to what this could mean for our people. Time will tell.**

**Entry Eight:**

**Velara came back this week, and told me news I cannot believe. I refuse to! **

**She told me that this New Inquisition has been attacked, their base of operations in Haven has been completely destroyed. All done by some fanatical cult worshiping yet another would-be god from Tevinter. Apparently, the delusional peons of the Chantry's faith believe that the Herald was actually slain then came back to them, and now he has been declared the official leader of the New Inquisition. His name is Inquisitor Rajmael!**

**It's not him, it can't be. Rajmael hates the Chantry for everything it did to him, our clan, our family! He would never turn his back on our people and our beliefs to serve the Chantry and its hollow Maker. My brother would never betray us like this!**

**I...I will not make any kind of judgment on him. I know my brother, and I know he would never do anything unless he had his reasons. From what I understand, the dogs of the Chantry were blaming him for the Divine's death. No doubt they were using that as a leash to make him serve their purpose. I wouldn't put anything past the Chantry at this point.**

**From what I've been informed, the Orlesian Civil War has been drawn into a tight stalemate. None of the three contenders are making a move against one another, and while they all concentrate on their next move, these Freemen of the Dales are digging in deep and becoming harder to get rid of. Like bloated ticks. Velara has come to me with more of our people, City Elves who have been wronged and want justice for what Gaspard and Celene's armies took from them. Creators willing, they can win this war and evict the usurpers from our land.**

**Perhaps, in time, I can learn more of what my dear little brother is truly up to. **

**Entry Nine:**

**It has been made clear to me now. I now understand what I was wrong about, and I know now why I am here.**

**Earlier this week, Velara told me there was some kind peace talks at Halamshiral. Rajmael was there, and he ended up killing Gaspard that night. Split his skull in two, from what I've been told. But it's not what happened to that shem that concerns me. It's what didn't happen to the other shem who was fighting for the throne. When Velara told me of what happened, I nearly puked. It would seem that Briala and Celene have kissed and made up, and now Briala is Marquis of the Dales, the first elf to ever own land and titles in Orlesian history.**

**What a load of utter bullshit! Is that what this whole rebellion was?! Just some way for Briala to get back at the woman who slighted her? And now that they're back together again, everything is supposed to be all sunshine and roses?! What about all the elves whose homes were burned by the empress and all the lives she destroyed? What about justice!? Now, after everything the City Elves fought to have, Briala is content to simply return to her lover's arms and be just another noble who kisses the empress' ass.**

**Velara and all the elves she has brought to me are beyond outraged. They wanted Celene's ass in a sling and her head on a pike. Now Briala would simply have them forget what the empress did to them, and go back to being happy smiling servants to Orlais. They do not accept this, _I_ will not accept this.**

**I know now why I didn't die, why I discovered this place. It was no mere coincidence that I found this temple when I was traveling the Vir Banal'ras. It wasn't chance that I was led to this temple. It was fate that I didn't die and partook in Elgar'nan's Blessing. **

**I can no longer sit idly by in this temple while our people are denied the justice they deserve. I was led here by the All-Father to discover the true strength of the Path of Shadows, and to wreak his vengeance those who wronged us. Velara and those she has brought will follow me, and I will lead them as Briala failed to do.**

**I go now to lead them against the usurpers who have dared to defile our rightful land with their presence. We will start with the Freeman of the Dales.**

**Final Entry:**

**My Darling Evanura,**

**It would seem I am not as rusty as I thought I was. In fact, I dare say that my skills and abilities are better than they have ever been. My studies and training in the Elgar'nan's Bastion were not for nothing. **

**So far, my plan has been working out very well, and my students' knowledge of the shemlen world has proved invaluable. We have been striking at the nobles where it hurts the most, and taking back pieces of our history that they stole from us. Every one of them, a trespasser against our people; we've left no survivors. These people have benefited from elven suffering and treated us as slaves in our land for centuries. If we must suffer for their ignorance and bigotry, then so must they.**

**Paron, one of my first students, gave his life to strike a crippling blow against the remains Chevaliers. ****Paron allowed the Elgar'nan Enansal to consume him, and he took all the soldier who stood in his way with him in a ball of flame. ****He was so eager to learn, so ready to give his life for our people. He was a devout student and Vir Banal'ras, and I shall mourn his passing. Halam'shivanas, the Sweet Sacrifice of duty. For those of us who walk the path, there is no greater honor.**

**Our work against the Freeman of the Dales is nearly complete. We have hunted the Freeman of the Dales to their last holdouts. Now only their pathetic commanders remains, and they will die in horrible, screaming agony. After all the crimes they've committed, the pain and suffering they've caused, they deserved nothing less. Velara succeeded in bringing some of them alive for interrogation, but it won't save them from their deserved judgment.**

**I have been conducting my experiments on these deserters, and the results have proven my theories. In the time of Arlathan, humans were not a part of our existence, so nothing of ours was compatible with them. No doubt that was part of their reason for destroying anything that was ours. Against the advice of my fellows, I administered the Elgar'nan Enansal to these Freeman we captured, an honor they unworthy of. And it was their unworthiness that killed them. **

**It didn't just kill them like a poison would, it was as if the waters of the basin just rejected them. It burned them from the inside out until there was noting left but their hollowed out shell. It's as if humans are unworthy of Elgar'nan's Blessing. Humans have always been unworthy, and that is our saving grace.**

**I know that we could never defeat the humans through strength of arms. Shemlen breed like cockroaches, and the instant any of them see elves rising above their accepted station, they'll band together to put us down again. This time will be different, and it is Elgar'nan's Blessing that will be our secret weapon. And now I can utilize it where it is most effective.**

**I have found it, Evanura. The ancient temple where the priests of the ancient empire would grant the blessings of the Creators, and those blessings would flow through the rest of the world. Soon, their waters will flow with the Blessings of Elgar'nan, and the world of the shemlen will learn how unworthy they are.**

**I have been receiving reports that the Inquisitor has been seen in the Dales. In the Dirthavera, the Emerald Graves, and even Sulevin Keep. They describe a Dalish mage with red hair who wields a sword of white flame and fights with a style of skill and sorcery that surpasses any Chevalier or Knight-Enchanter. **

**So it's true, my little brother does lead the Inquisition. I didn't want to believe it, but there is no other elf in all of Thedas who could possibly fit that description. Rajmael must have his reasons, I know he does. He would never set our people aside for the shemlen and their Chantry. If he is in the Dales, then he too is probably trying to route out the Freeman of the Dales, and if that's true, then there is not a doubt in my mind that our paths will cross soon. I just hope that he understands that what I am doing is for the betterment of our people.**

**I go now to finish off this General Maliphant and what's left of the Freeman, then I will continue my plans at Nehn'Numinas. There will be no going back after this, and the blood I shed will be more than anyone else can bare. I just hope, Evanura, that you will understand why I am doing this. The humans have never brought our people anything but humiliation, pain, and misery. I know this all too well. They are a plague on this world that destroys anything that they can't understand or defies their prejudices. Elves will never truly be free so long as this cancer plagues the world we once ruled.**

**The path I am about to take is one of blood and misery, one no good man would ever walk, but it's the only path the humans have left me with. Death, destruction and pain is the only thing they understand, and so I will visit it back on them all for what they did to our people. This is the only way elves can ever take back our place in the world, and the only way I know to make sure our daughter's future will never be threatened. **

**No matter what happens, I ****hope you will not think less of me for this, Evanura. And when this is all over, I hope to hold Eva once again and give her a world where she will never live in fear.**

**With all my love,**

**Nethras.**

**~XoXoXo~**

Varric closed the journal and placed it down respectfully. A man poured his heart into every word he wrote in that, and it wasn't something to be treated disdainfully. After reading all that, Varric didn't know what to feel about their captor. It seemed like everyone else had the same feelings of confliction.

Mother Giselle wiped a heartfelt tear from her eye. The pain written in those words touched her deeply._ "That poor man...I have no words. Nothing anyone could say could justify what was done to him."_

_"Oh, holy Maker."_ Cassandra breathed sorrowfully. _"In all the years I served the Chantry, tried to serve the will of the Maker, tried to serve justice, I never gave thought to those the Chantry has wronged. How could we be so blind?"_

_"It was a mistake to arm our faith with swords. Reinforcing our faith with steel and bigotry was inevitable, and the elves became the object of our ire."_ Mother Giselle admitted sadly. _"Rajmael and his brother have every right to hate us because we failed."_

Guilt stabbed at Cassandra like an arrow in her back. How could she have been such a hypocrite? All her years of speaking of justice, protecting the weak and innocent, and yet these were the people the Chantry abused the most. The Chantry she served had victimized so many people, it was no wonder it made so many enemies, and these elves were only some of the latest victims of their neglect.

_"The Chantry became more about politics than of faith, and those politics abused so many, made so many enemies."_ Cassandra realized regrettably. _"Justinia tried to change it, but the Chantry was too set in its ways, and even she couldn't hold back the wave of anger of those who had suffered under our neglect. If the Chantry is to ever survive, if we are to ever become the light Andraste wished us to be, it must change its course. We can no longer be blind to suffering, or let our actions be dictated by petty prejudices."_

_"You really think that's possible, Seeker?"_ Varric asked doubtfully. _"I mean, you've seen how willing many of the Chantry members are to radicle change and acceptance of new ideas. Like when they disavowed you, the Herald and the Inquisition as heresy? Heck, the Shaperate of Orzammar is more flexible than the Chantry."_

_"That is precisely why it needs a new Divine."_ Cassandra answered.

"The hurt inside him is like a knife planted in his heart. Every day it's like someone is twisting it, pushing it deeper. They taught him how to be cruel, now he wants to be cruel back to make the pain stop. He thinks that by hurting them, they will stop hurting what he loves." Cole said sadly.

_"Shit, if someone killed my old tamasraan and all her kids, I'd want some payback, too."_ Iron Bull grunted._ "It's stories like this that prove what the Qunari think of the South is correct."_

_"Nethras has every right to hate the damned world. What's it ever done for him or any elf that's ever lived?"_ Blackwall commented sternly. _"Nobles get fat while elves starve and are treated like shit, is it any wonder they're all so damned angry all the time?"_

_"What happened to these elves is terrible, I won't deny that, but they are woefully misguided if they think these attacks will do anything but bring the entire world against them."_ Vivienne spoke with faux sympathy. _"No different than when the mages and Templars rebelled against the Chantry."_

Dorian laughed like Vivienne told a poor joke _"Ha! And you always like to point everyone else's ignorance but never notice your own, Enchanter. You Southerners still hold Tevinter in contempt for things that were done centuries ago, before even your forefathers were alive, yet you hate my country as if we did it just last year."_

_"The world still feels the aftereffects of what your ancestors did Dorian, and we judge your country for what it still does today."_ Vivienne disputed as fact.

_"That's exactly my point!"_ Dorian stated. _"These elves have only ever known the Chantry as some oppressive entity that has done nothing but take from them, and diminish them, whether you're Dalish or not. To elves like Nethras, the Chantry must be the most evil thing about human in existence."_

Solas nodded his head in agreement. _"Indeed. So many crimes have been committed against elvenkind for centuries by the Chantry, yet not once has the Divine ever taken responsibility. Is it any wonder that elves or mages would rebel?"_

_"And thus they give the nobles cause to purge Alienages, and Templars to annul Circles."_ Vivienne reasoned condescendingly. _"You cannot act against those in power and then expect them not to respond harshly."_

_"And it's always the ones in power who continue the cycle."_ Solas argued back. _"The oppressed will always struggle against their oppressors, and they, more often than not, have nothing to lose and everything to gain."_

_"Well...it would seem you had quite the admirer in Nethras, Marquis."_ Varric recalled, trying to guide away from the argument between the mages.

_"So it would seem."_ Briala acknowledged morosely.

_"Admiration that quickly turned into animosity. It would seem these elves wanted more than just seeing their leader get a title and lands."_ Solas pointed out.

_"You think I don't know that? You think I waged a rebellion just to get back at Celene, that I was only out for myself and using the elves as my excuse?!"_ Briala demanded vehemently.

_"Yeah, actually. That's exactly what I think."_ Sera scoffed impudently. _"You talk a big game about elves, elves, elves, but all you were doing was trying to get back at the empress who pissed you off, and got people hurt."_

Briala glared daggers at the other city elf, and looked as if she wanted to smack her. _"And just who are you to speak, Red Jenny? You and your little group of troublemakers like to talk about how you stand up for the little people, but not once did I ever see you or any of your _'friends'_ aiding the elves who were left homeless and starving after Halamshiral's alienage was purged! I chose the path that I believed would best help our people in the long run. What have you ever done for anyone else?"_

_"I don't get people hurt, or try to become one of those prissy nobs and pretend I'm doing to help! You faker!"_ Sera argued angrily.

_"How can you think of judging others for their cause when you care so little for your own, Sera?"_ Solas asked accusingly. _"If these people were humans instead of elves, just like the ones we saw in Fairbanks' company, you would be full of sympathy for them and agree with their grievances. You truly are a hypocrite."_

For once, Solas' words actually hit Sera in a soft spot. _"No, I...I don't...You know what? Go twang your ears! Both of you! If what elves believed weren't so stupid, I wouldn't need to not like 'em so much, would I!?"_

Briala finally had enough. She thought the Dalish elves she encountered were racist, but Briala had forgotten that it was almost always other City Elves who turn on their own kind the most, no different than the shemlen. Still angry at what she went through with Velara, and no longer willing to put up with another elf's condemnation, Briala slapped Sera across the face for her ignorant words.

_"Oh, why you little...!"_ Sera's left cheek burned, and she drew her bow in anger at the Marquis.

Iron Bull, Black Wall and Cassandra got between the two hostile elves, and tried to break them up before their hostilities turned into fatalities.

_"I think you lot are all forgetting the most important part of why we're here."_ Blackwall informed sternly.

_"Yeah, in case you've forgotten, we're still in a temple filled with a cult of hostile elves. Maybe you'd rather settle this when we've escaped and aren't going to be killed on sight?"_ Iron Bull suggested.

Cassandra nodded her head in acknowledgment. _"Agreed. Cole? Can you lead us out of here without being seen?"_

_"Yes. But we'll need to be quick. Everyone is gathering out there, and I think they want to hurt someone."_ Cole answered warningly. _"They want to hurt everyone."_

**~XoXoXo~**

Cole tried sneaking them back through the Great Hall to get to the exit. If they were quiet enough, they might be able to get out of here. Unfortunately, the Great Hall was where most of the inhabitants of the temple had gathered here. It was dark as pitch in here, the only source of light was found from the bannisters which blazed like furnaces on the stage. No one had noticed them; whatever magic Cole had was keeping them concealed so far. They managed to hide on the ramparts overlooking the hall, and could see that all the elves were excited to be here, like they were expecting something grand to happen. Looked like some kind of rally was going on.

"_**We are Vir Banal'ras!"**_ Nethras cried as he entered the hall. His followers roared their approval. _"We are the shadows who serve the sun! We are Elgar'nan's representatives in this world. Earthly agents of his divine punishment. Our mission is to exact his vengeance upon all those who dare threaten The People!"_

The gathered crowed clung to Nethras' every word and cheered like an angry mob with every sentence.

"_The world of the shemlen has stolen everything from us! Our kingdoms, our families, our very freedom. And still they want more!"_ Nethras continued. _"They tell us that we must submit to their false Maker and his dead Andraste! That our Creators are demons meant to be cast down. I say their Maker is the usurper! He stole the rightful place of our gods, and the humans stole our rightful place in this world!"_

His zealotry and charisma raised the voices and morale of all the elves in the hall. It was like a storm of voices had gathered in here.

"_They strip us of our heritage, forbid us from speaking of Thane Shartan. Tell us that we must roll over for them and allow ourselves to abused, and thank them for it. To accept what they've done to us, what they continue to do to us, and thank them for what little they allow us to have. Like cattle. Are you cattle!?"_

"_**NOO-OO!"**_ The crowd answered.

"_Or are you Elves!?"_

"_**ELVES!"**_

"_Then we must show the shemlen, the Orlesian Empire and the Chantry what that truly means!" _Nethras' voice shook the very air_. "We must strike from the shadows, and burn our enemies with the power of the sun. With Elgar'nan's Blessing!"_

There was that term again, the one that started this whole nightmare. Elgar'nan's Blessing. What is that?

_"The Chantry demands that you abandon your identities as elves and embrace the empty promises and hollow teachings of their absent Maker and dead Andraste."_ Nethras spoke with anger and disgust in his voice, which was reflected by his followers. _"They told your ancestors that if they surrendered their beliefs and their heritage they would be protected. Where is the Chantry when Chevaliers rape your daughters and murder your sons?! Where was the Divine when Empress Celene burned your Alienage?! **WHAT DOES THE CHANTRY EVER GIVE YOU?!"**_

_"Nothing!"_

_"The Chantry sits back and watches while we suffer!"_

_"They ask us to give them tithes while we're starving!"_

Nethras looked on his fellow elves grimly, acknowledging their pain and anger. _"If there is anything that the shemlen and their Chantry has taught me, it is this: if you want something in this world, if you want justice, or peace you have to take it, and kill anyone who gets in your way! Take it! Take it!"_

_"TAKE IT! TAKE IT! TAKE IT!" _The elves roared.

_"And so we will take it. The shemlen and their putrid Chantry have taken enough from us, it's finally time we take back from them."_ Nethras continued grimly. _"Brothers and sisters, my Vir Banal'ras,_ _I have asked you here to shed blood, and if need be, to die for the sake of our people. To take up justice for our people. __I will never ask anything of you that I will not do myself. And tonight…I will show you what that means."_

Nehtras snapped his fingers and several of his guards hauled nearly a dozen people blinded by hoods on to the stage and chained them to nearby posts. The last one, obviously a man. Was dragged before Nethras. His hood was removed and revealed a balding, fleshy man in his late forties with a peppered beard and thick sideburns. The man had a look of utter fright on his paunchy face, but Nethras' face was twisted with ardent hatred and ecstatic joy.

"_Paul Messign!"_ Nethras addressed with hatred and poison burning in his eyes. _"Three years ago, my clan traded with you for supplies. We acted honorably and fairly, and you returned our amicability by giving us diseased blankets! Then you sent the Templars after my clan. And for what!? Just because we were elves trying to make our own way in the world!"_

Paul tried to maintain a fearless façade, but the fear on him was obvious. _"I…I only regret that we didn't kill of you heathen knife-ears!"_

"_Your crimes against my people were heinous. Because of what you did, I lost many members of my clan, including my wife!"_ Nethras seethed in hate and anguish. _"You murdered my family in the name of your god, now I shall return the favor. And vengeance loves irony."_

Cassandra and the others could only watch in horror, while Mother Giselle prayed fervently for the Maker's intervention, as Nethras followers wrapped their prisoners in blankets that had been soaked in some kind of liquid. The hooded humans were all crying and begging for mercy, the youngest didn't even look older than thirteen.

"_No! Please, no!"_ Paul begged sobbingly. _"I'm sorry for what I did, but please don't hurt my family! Punish me, but leave them alone! Please, show mercy!"_

"_Please, let us go!"_ Paul's wife wept. _"We've done nothing to you! In the name of mercy, at least let our son go!"_

"_I'll tell you what, what do you say we leave it to the gods?"_ Nethras produced a coin and showed both sides of it to Paul. _"You see this coin? You see it?!"_

"_Yes!"_ Paul cried.

"_Okay, we'll keep it simple: tails, you and your family will walk out of here. Everything you suffered today will just be a bad memory, and you can rest easy every night knowing that your Maker is looking after you."_ Nethras explained blithely_. "But if its heads, I'm going to murder your whole fucking family for your trespasses against me. You ready to put your faith against mine?"_

Nethras flipped the coin high in the air, Paul Messign prayed to the Maker and Andraste to save his family, to make the coin land on tails. Mother Giselle added to those prayers from their hiding spot from the ramparts. That single moment where that coin was falling back to the ground seemed like it dragged on forever, and when it finally landed to the ground the sound it made could be heard throughout the Great Hall. Nethras and Paul looked at the coin laying on the ground and found their gods' answer. Heads.

"_**NOOO!"**_ Paul wailed. _"Please, no!"_

Nethras grabbed a torch and silently tossed it towards his prisoners. Cassandra and the others realized too late that the blankets those people wrapped in were soaked in oil. Paul's family lit up like torches within those blankets. The whole temple was filled with the sounds of their agonized screams and Paul's wailing as their bodies smoked and blackened. While Paul screamed and wept as he watched his family die, Nethras looked on with a look of vindicated smile on his face.

"_NO!"_ Mother Giselle cried in horror. And revealed their location to every assassin in the temple.

Nethras looked up at the ramparts with anger in his eyes, and Cassandra knew he was looking right at her. As is too insult her and show his contempt, Nethras grabbed Paul by the hair and gently glided his razor sharp blade across the shemlen's forehead. Paul screamed in horrible agony to match the pain his family suffered as Nethras slowly peeled the skin of his scalp from his skull. Paul's screams ceased and the final breath of life in his body weakly escaped through his lips when he hit the ground, blood spurting from his skinned head and his naked skull lain bare for all to see.

Nethras clenched Paul's still bleeding scalp in his fist and pointed his weapon at Cassandra; warning her that they were all next.

**~XoXoXo~**

"_Everyone, move!"_ Cassandra ordered. They all took off like their asses were on fire, while the Vir Banal'ras moved to chase after them.

Nethras looked up at the ramparts with anger in his eyes, and Cassandra knew he was looking right at her. He took his sickle and in one deft stroke, knocked the weeping Paul's head off his neck like a sheath of wheat.

"_Everyone, move!"_ Cassandra ordered. They all took off like their asses were on fire, while the Vir Banal'ras moved to chase after them.

"_MANA!"_ Nethras ordered, and every elf stopped in their tracks. _"They are mine to deal with."_

**~XoXoXo~**

Cassandra led the others through the empty, dark hall searching for the exit. They had to get out of here, or at least find a way to position themselves better against these assassins. The light was so dim it was disorienting. How could anyone see anything in this darkness?

"_Here! Come over this way!"_ Sera shouted as she ran around a corner.

"_How did you see that way?"_ Blackwall asked as he tried to maintain his footing.

"_Elven eyes can see better in the dark."_ Solas answered.

The two elves led them down the black passasge, all of them trying to maintain their footing in the dark. Maybe they could lead them out. But instead all they ran into was a big, fat dead end.

"_Shit!"_ Sera, Varric and Iron Bull cursed in unison.

There was something glowing on the wall. Some sort of rune inscribed in ancient elven.

"_I can't read this rune."_ Dorian admitted. _"Solas, can you make sense of this gibberish?"_

Solas squinted his eyes in the dark and looked at the rune most curiously. _"Strange? It says…."_

"_Watch your step."_ Nethras' voice finished in the dark. They all heard what sounded like gears grinding and moving loudly in the shadows. And before they realized what was happening, the floor opened beneath their feet and they all fell down into the darkness below.

Cassandra and the other all landed with a resounding, collective thud. But thankfully, none of them landed so hard that they broke anything. They were all just really pissed off now.

"_What the shit was that!"_ Sera screamed.

"_It's called a trapdoor, you twit! You led us straight into a trap, and got my Poigntue Original Gown ruined!"_ Vivienne yelled as she desperately tried to beat the dirt and dust of her skirt.

"_Mother Giselle, are you alright?"_ Cassandra asked as she helped the priestess to her feet.

"_A few bruises, but nothing I can't handle, Seeker."_ Giselle answered softly.

"_Where the fuck are we?!"_ Iron Bull spat.

They looked around and found themselves in some kind of vast underground chasm. There were torches lit along the walls and the floor was intricately tiled. Was this some kind of storage place, or another place of worship?

"_Great. More Caves."_ Varric complained.

"_Look. Over there. You see that?"_ Blackwall pointed to the far end of the chasm, and they saw a bright light yawing in the darkness. _"That must be the way out." _

"_Welcome to the Gauntlet."_ Spoke Nethras' voice once more. The whole chasm seemed to groan and rumble. Like something was moving within the ground.

"_I don't like this place."_ Cole whispered.

Suddenly large stone barriers sprung from the floor like weeds in between Giselle and Cassandra. Then between Briala and Dorian. Soon whole walls erupted between all of them and completely cut them off from one another. And then more walls sprang from the ground and turned the whole chasm into a labyrinth.

"_Grrr! Like hopping from the frying pan, into the fire and then the grave!"_ Cassandra growled. _"Everyone, try to make your way towards the exit, and try to meet up with each other. We will all rendezvous at the exit!"_

Nethras looked down at Rajmael's companions. All of them powerful, skilled individuals. Some of the best minds and warriors in all of Thedas. And now they were scurrying around in his little maze like rats. He wasn't going to break his promise to his adopted brother, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to have a little fun with these people. Now…who to take down first?

**~XoXoXo~**

Mother Giselle calmly walked the maze. She remembered which way the exit was and tried to quietly make her way there. With the Maker's grace, she could make it to the others. She came across a dead end. How unfortunate. The path split in two, she decided to go right. Mother Giselle made several more turns and on more, but this time she didn't come across another dead end. She found the elven leader waiting for her, Nethras.

Nethras was leaning up against the wall with his arms crossed. He knew there was no threat from this pious old biddy. _"You're not going to make much of a fight of this, are you, priestess?"_

"_I do not need to fight, messere. The Maker is my protection."_ Mother Giselle answered serenely.

"_Yeah? Too bad you couldn't lend some of that protection to Paul and his family."_ Nethras laughed.

"_That wasn't the Makers doing, but yours. You chose to murder that poor man and his family."_ Mother Giselle said in an unusually angry tone.

"_That _'poor man'_ helped kill many members of my clan, and led to the death of my beloved Evanura."_ Nethras shot back. _"Who was going to give my family justice?"_

"_What he did to your family was terrible, but that doesn't give you the right to do evil in turn."_ Giselle stood. _"All you will do is perpetuate more evil, and whatever righteousness you believe in will be stained."_

"_Is that so? Well, then you're either a hypocrite or a liar. Because all the Chantry has ever done is kill in the Maker's name, and perpetuate hatred and fear towards my people."_ Nethras said hatefully. Those words shocked Mother Giselle, they were the same exact words Rajmael said to her when they first met. _"My god demands action, and so far, you're god has done nothing to stop me because He's a coward. Or, maybe, it's because my god is more real than the god of some dead shemlen woman who let her die at the hands of her enemies."_ Nethras' eyes were glowing with power and hatred of the likes Mother Giselle didn't know existed. _"Now, are we going to stand here and have a theological debate, are you going to come along quietly?"_

Mother Giselle wasn't going to fight back, what could she do against him? He was willing to take her without force, and she would continue to try and walk with Andraste's grace. All she could do was pray that the Maker would watch over the rest of her companions, and that He would show Nethras mercy.

**~XoXoXo~**

"_Shit! Fuck! Ass! Crap! Friggin' bag of donkey pricks!"_ Sera cursed as she frantically ran through the maze trying to find her way out it. Every turn led to another and then it led to a fucking wall. How was she going to get of this shit hole?

"_Hey, would you mind taking a little easy there, Buttercup?"_ Varric pleaded trying to keep up with her. _"I hate dank, dark places more than you, but we don't know which way we're going."_

"_So far you've been running in the exact opposite direction of the exit, you idiots."_ A voice answered.

"_Who said that!?"_ Varric yelled. He looked down Bianca's sights looking for someone to shoot, but it was too damned dark.

Then the two of them Nethras' voice laughing, mocking them from the shadows.

"_Who's there!? Come out where I can shoot you, and we'll see whose laughin'!"_ Sera threatend.

"Aww. _Poor, little Sera. The elf who isn't an elf. The adopted pet of a noblewoman."_ Nethras laughed mockingly. _"And Varric Tethras, a pitiable dwarf who always ends up in the wrong place, at the wrong time, with the wrong people. What a laughable pair of losers you are."_

"_Right, says the guy who only complains about everything he's lost_." Sera said trying to be offensive and hide her own fear. _"Since when does elfy shit do anyone any good? All it does it get people killed."_

"_Ha! Just like how you got your people killed in Verchiel, Sera?"_ Nethras taunted. _"And how about you, Varric? Every time you tried to help Hawke with anything, all you ever did was bring him more danger."_

That took them both back a step.

_"How'd you know 'bout that?"_ Varric asked.

"_You're not the only ones with contacts in the most helpful of places."_ Nethras mocked. _"You know, Sera, you're no different than the human nobles you're like to steal from so much."_

Sera stopped running and angrily looked around the dark to find the guy who said that. _"What'd you just fuckin' say!?"_

"_You're no different than all the other shemlen nobles who shit all over everyone, seth'lin!"_

"_Bullshit! I ain't nothin' like them!"_ Sera denied.

"_Just like them, you hate anyone who's of a different class than you. You rob and murder and steal, and use your own agenda as an excuse to justify your actions."_ Nethras ridiculed. _"You're prejudice, racist, and you always spit on the elves who are suffering simply because they're elves, and you're not. You and that bitch Vivienne are opposite sides of the same coin!"_

That was the last straw. Sera knocked an arrow into her bow and pointed in all directions of the darkness. _"Come out and say that to my face, elf-shitter!"_

"_Easy, Sera. He's trying to get in your head."_ Varric tried to tell her. But it didn't look like she was listening.

Nethras materialized from the shadows like smoke from a fire. _"I'll make you a little deal, Sera. You manage to tag me with one of those arrows of yours, and I'll tell you exactly where the exit is. But if you can't, I'll smash you like a cheap vase."_

"_Sera…he's trying to play you." _Varric warned.

"_Nya-ha-ha!"_ Sera snickered. _"Funny! I'd woulda shot you for free!"_

Sera aimed her arrow right at Nethras' smug smile, but instead of flying through his teeth and out the back of his head, the stupid elf caught it in his hand. Nethras' smile grew wider and threw the arrow to the side like it was nothing.

"_What the fuck!"_ Sera cursed.

"_Well, shit."_ Was all Varric could say as he cocked Bianca back and tried to help Sera shoot the guy.

The surface dwarf and city elf kept firing their arrows, one after another in rapid succession. Nethras simultaneously slapped each one right out of the air like he was swatting flies, and kept walking closer and closer.

This wasn't looking good for them. Varric was running out of arrows and Nethras was getting closer. He fired an explosive mine at Nethras, but somehow the elf kicked the mine right in midair and up towards the roof. The mine went off like a firecracker, doing no damage whatsoever. Now Varric's was arsenal was completely spent.

Sera came down to her last arrow, and Nethras was standing three feet in front of her with a mocking grin on his face, going from ear to ear.

"_You've only got one more shot. You'd better make it count."_ Nethras taunted and pointed the arrow to his own forehead.

"_AAARGH! Fuck you!"_ Sera screamed and let the arrow loose from her bow.

In that split instant, Sera had never been more shocked in her life than she had been now, even when she saw that frickin' Archdemon level Haven. Nethras caught the arrow in his left hand...before it ever even left Sera's bow.

Nethras broke the shaft of the arrow in his grip like a dried out twig, and grinned at Sera. _"My turn, bitch."_

Sera tried to go for the knife in held in her waist, but the last thing she saw was the blur that was supposed to be the assassin's fist go straight into her face, and felt what must have been a smith's hammer land right into her face. And that same blur whipped around and kicked Varric in the chin. And just like that, both their worlds just went completely blank.

**~XoXoXo~**

Dorian ran alongside Cole moving as fast as his legs could carry him. Sweet Maker, he'd never run so fast in his whole life. But when there's homicidal cultist elven assassins after you, you tend to try and push your limits for the sake of your own survival. The two of them took a moment to catch their breath and survey the surroundings. Cole started touching the walls like he was trying to feel them up and then placed his ear against it.

"_What…What are you doing, Cole?"_ Dorian asked breathlessly.

"_I'm wondering if the walls can tell us the way out."_ Cole answered.

"_The wall…telling us the way out?"_

Cole looked at Dorian quizzically_. "Well, people say walls have ears, maybe they have mouths too."_

"_Oh, Cole. You're a candle in a dark place."_ Dorian chuckled.

"_I'm not a candle. People can see candles."_

"_You're both more like a couple of dim torches from where I'm standing."_ Said a voice in the dark.

Dorian charged his magic through the Torch of Toth while Cole stood ready with his daggers. A Tevinter mage and a spirit of compassion that can out stage an Antivan Crow, and this time they knew what they were in for. This might be an even fight.

Nethras' voice echoed around them, shouting at them in the elven language. How odd. Dorian expected insults or death threats, but it sounded like Nethras was reciting something. A prayer perhaps?

"_Mana elgara! Ar sa mala revas! Ar in'ara ne asan!"_

Cole's daggers dropped from his hands and he became stiff and rigid with a look of pained shock on his face. _"W-what's happening? No! Th-this is just like before…with Seeker Lambert."_ Cole tried to move, but it was like his body wouldn't listen to him.

Dorian had no idead what was happening to his comrade. He tried to activate some kind of counter spell, but then one of those damned chains sprung out of nowhere and ripped his staff from his hands. Again. Nethras appeared from the shadows and tossed Dorian's staff to the ground.

"_What did you do to Cole!?"_ Dorian demanded.

"_Oh, just an ancient elvhen incantation for holding spirits when they wondered where they're not welcome."_ Nethras answered sneeringly. _"Dorian of House Pavus. The Scion of a proud Tevinter lineage. You have no idea how long I've dreamed of killing Tevinter scum like you."_

"_As much as enjoy helping others make their dreams come true, I am afraid I am going to have to decline on indulging your little life goal."_ Dorian answered sarcastically.

"_Ha! You say that like you've got a choice in the matter!"_ Nethras mocked_. "You've no idea how much I'll enjoy this."_

Dorian charged his magic through his hands and made fire erupt in his palms. _"I won't go down so easy this time!"_

"_Sure you will! The only difference is you're going to see it coming, and there won't be a damned thing you can do about it."_ Nethras promised.

Dorian threw one ball of flame at Nethras and thought the burning projectile hit the damned elf, but it only struck Nethras' afterimage. He moved with such incredible speed that before Dorian could launch his other attack, Nethras had grabbed his wrist with such force it smote the flame in his palm. Dorian thought only Rajmael could move that fast.

"_Arrgh!"_ Dorian cried in pain when Nethras punched him so hard he was sent flying back into a wall.

"_I guess dreams do come true!"_ Nethras smiled deviously, his eyes glowing in the dark. He dashed over to Dorian and planted a spinning back kick with enough force to bruise a dragon right into the side of his head. Now both the Tevinter mage and the Spirit of Compassion were out like a pair of dim laterns.

**~XoXoXo~**

Solas and Vivienne walked in contemptuous silence as they tried to make their way out. The two mages tried to navigate their way through this maze, trying to use their magic to maybe conjure a way out or guide them to the others, but these walls somehow negated such attempts. While Solas would have been content to just keep walking silence, Vivienne always had to have a say in anything.

"_Solas, dear, perhaps you can clarify something for me. What is it that makes this Nethras think he can just take back what his people lost?"_ Vivienne inquired with her signature superior tone.

"_You think that because I'm an elf that I can give you some kind of insight to his mind, Enchanter?"_ Solas replied distastefully. _"Don't be naïve. He's as much a stranger to me as he is to you. The only thing I can guess about his character is that he is one of the many who is tired of seeing his people living in squalor and suffering. And now these elves are looking to him to lead them in a fight against their oppressors."_

"_A fight they couldn't possibly win."_ Vivienne concluded. _"Even with their supposed god's blessing, these people couldn't possibly take back what was taken from them. The world will still be against them."_

"_Spoken like a truly self-righteous bitch!"_ Nethras' voice boomed out of nowhere.

Solas and Vivienne held their staves and charged their magic. Neither of them would be caught off guard this time.

"_Being a whore has worked out in your favor hasn't it, Imperial Enchanter?"_ Nethras' voice echoed. _"Spreading your legs for favors, and playing the Game with the nobility while your fellow mages have to live like prisoners. And now you seek to whore yourself out to the Inquisition in exchange for more power in these uncertain times. Tell me Vivienne, do you really think my brother can't see through you? He's got you figured out, and you're in for quite the rude awakening, I can tell you that."_

"_I know that you're trying to do what you think is best for our people…."_ Solas tried reasoning. _"But this path you and your followers are on can only lead to destruction…."_

"_And what have you ever done for our people that gives you the right to lecture me, old man."_ Nethras argued. _"You spent half your life in dreamland witnessing distorted versions of history, and have attained nothing. Despite all your accomplishments, neither of you has done anything meaningful with your gifts, or your lives."_

Vivienne sniffed her nose at the darkness surrounding her. _"Presumptuous, pretentious, and a murdering terrorist. No wonder your wretched daughter is a potential abomination in the woods."_

Everything in the maze suddenly became deathly still. The two mages could feel the anger permeating the air.

"_Never. Speak. Of my…__**DAUGHTER!**__"_

Once again those hellish chains flew from the shadows like metallic serpents, so fast Vivienne barely noticed them in the dimly lit hall. They grabbed her by the ankles and dragged her screaming into the darkness. It all happened so fast that Solas could do nothing. He threw several magical attacks at the shadow, but this darkness was so unnatural it had to be magic, even his eyes couldn't see in it. And all he could hear was the powerful sonorous echoes of Vivienne's body being smashed by angry fists, accompanied by the sounds of her cries of pain. For the first time since Solas met, he actually felt sorry for Vivienne.

Seconds later, Vivienne's bruised and body was sent flying back out of the shadows. Solas could still feel the magic coming from her. She was still alive, but probably beaten worse than she'd ever been in her whole life.

"_I've got no quarrel with you, somniari. But if you try to fuck with me, I will show you what a real nightmare looks like."_ The angry assassin threatened, emerging from the darkness. _"Cooperate with me, and I'll ensure your safety until Rajmael upholds his end of the bargain."_

"_What's to stop you from killing me and my comrades should we cooperate with you?"_ Solas inquired calmly.

"_There's nothing here that _can_ stop me. I just simply choose not to. The only reason why I don't simply kill the bitch at your feet is because I promised my brother I wouldn't. And your cooperation is the only way you're gonna leave this temple alive and whole."_ Nethras promised.

"_Very well. Lead the way."_ Solas accepted.

"_Just like that?"_ Nethras asked disbelievingly.

"_Fighting you serves no purpose. You've already bested my comrades once, I doubt we could best you in your place of power."_ Solas explained_. "Besides, I'm curious as to what you actually have planned."_

Nethras raised his left hand and pointed it, the walls in the direction he pointed collapsed like port-cullis doors. Solas got the idea, and began trekking in that direction. Unfortunately, he had to carry the unconscious Vivienne with him.

**~XoXoXo~**

Briala calmly tried to navigate this Maker-forsaken labyrinth. She had to get out of here. Had to let Celene know, and try to contain this before any more harm was brought to the elves Orlais. Nethras' need to for vengeance could destroy everything she's tried to accomplish for their people.

"_Ahhh. Marquis Briala. Spymaster, handmaiden and bedwarmer to Empress Celene I Valmont of the Orlesian Empire."_ Spoke the voice that could only belong to Nethras. He clapped for her mockingly. _"The brilliant leader who led the elves in a shadow war against our Orlesian oppressors, made our people a force to be recognized. And then you…betrayed us!"_

Briala stood her ground and tried to listen where that voice was coming from. Maybe she could end this here. Had to keep him talking. _"I did not betray our people! Everything I did was to give our people a voice, a place in this empire!"_

"_You want us to stay subservient to human overlords who've defiled our people, who will never honor such an arrangement, and all the while you get to return to your Empress' loving arms while we still live in like paupers in a land where we should be kings! We wanted the Dales back, not go back to being servants to Orlais!"_

Strange. Those were almost the same exact words Rajmael used when they first met. _"If you know so much, then you must know it was the Inquisitor, your brother, who gave me this position. Do you doubt him, too?"_

"_Rajmael follows the Path of Dirthamen. A weak and ineffective path that has held our people back, and brought us nothing but disappointment."_ Nethras explained angrily.

"_And you think you know what is best for our people?" _Briala questioned incredulously. _"If anything, you will only set the world against us! It was why I never planned to have Celene assassinated. Too many of our people would die just to satisfy their want for blood, just like what happened when they rebelled in Halamshiral._

"_Unlike you, with you frilly dresses, your bath scented skin and fancy bardic training, I know what it's like to be hungry, to starve, and to wake up every morning wondering if this is going to be the day I die. And like the rest of us, who live in the real world, I know what it's like to have everything I cherish destroyed by the humans. I will give them the justice that you, and your precious Orlais, denies them."_

"_And how many people will have to die for your justice?"_ Briala demanded.

"_In any war, there are always casualties. In war, there are only victors and victims. And our people have been victims for far too long."_ Nethras growled from right behind her.

Briala spun around to plant her stiletto into his jugular. Nethras caught her wrist and knocked the blade out of her hand, then grabbed her by the neck and slammed her against the wall. The angry elf lifted the marquis off the ground by her neck and smashed her against the wall three more times, knocking her senseless, then started applying more pressure around her throat. The last thing Briala saw before blacking out was Nethras' eyes burning with anger.

**~XoXoXo~**

Cassandra managed to find Blackwall and Iron Bull. Hopefully the others were faring as well as they were. So far they had encountered nothing. No traps, no death machines, not even an ambush. This just seemed far too easy to Cassandra.

"_Well, well. Look what we've got here."_ Nethras mocked from nowhere. _"A burnt out qunari reject, a Warden who missed out on a whole Blight, and a washed out Seeker who the Chantry discarded. Rajmael's three stooges."_

All three warriors stood back to back with their weapons ready. They would not be easy prey a second time.

Cassandra focuses her mind, she had to remain calm_. "I…I've met your daughter, Nethras. We all have. She's an enchanting child."_

"_I...I know. She's...everything that made my wife shine."_ Nethras responded invisibly. but his sadness audible. _"Being away from her is like having a knife dig into my heart."_

"_Can't be that heartbroken. You abandoned her to lead this death-cult."_ Blackwall scorned.

"_When a father leaves his family to fight in a war, that isn't abandonment. That's a sacrifice." _Nethras justified.

"_You really think your kid would want you going around killing people instead of hanging out with her?"_ Iron Bull asked judgmentally.

"_What the fuck would you know about having children, Qunari? I'm doing this for my daughter!" _Nethras answered angrily. _"So that she doesn't have to know what it's like to be hunted down like an animal and treated like vermin just because she had the honor of being born an elf!"_

"_You think that justifies what you did to that man and his family? What he did to you and your clan was horrible, it was evil, but it doesn't justify what you do."_ Cassandra condemned. _"What gives you the right to commit murder, to destroy whole families?!"_

"_You did!"_ Nethras screamed furiously. "_The Chantry gave me that right when they murdered my wife and tried to steal my baby!"_

"_Those soldiers and nobles your men killed. Was that all for your daughter as well, or were you simply killing in the name of your god?"_ Blackwall asked.

"_All gods demand sacrifice."_ Nethras laughed.

"_And you think these blood sacrifices you've done in the name of your god will help your people? It will only turn the whole world against all elves again."_ Cassandra reasoned.

"_Yeah what she said!"_ Iron Bull added.

"_And how many people have you murdered in the name of your god, Seeker?"_ Nethras sneered from the darkness. _"Every time you raised your sword and killed a man and cried out_ 'Maker take you',_ you weren't sacrificing someone to Him? The Exalted Marches, killing mages who don't pass their Harrowing, slaying people for not accepting the Maker. What was all that if not a sacrifice of blood for your god? You and your wretched Chantry has more blood on its hands than I ever will. Everything I learned about killing in the name of a god, you bastards taught me!"_

That actually struck a blow in Cassandra's heart_. _

_"__N-no. No that isn't true!"_ She tried to deny, but after learning the truth behind the Seekers, she wasn't sure if she meant it.

_"Oh, but it is true, don't you dare try to deny it!"_ Nethras shouted viciously. _"You served an institution that brutalizes anyone who doesn't obey it's hypocrisy. Even now, after everything you've seen the Chantry do wrong, you still defend it. You protect and serve evil, therefore...**YOU ARE EVIL!"**_

Iron Bull finally had enough. He growled furiously and stomped his foot to the ground challengingly. "_Grrr! I'd like to see how big you are when you're not hiding in the shadows like a wussy!"_

At that moment, Nethras emerged from the shadows before them, his eyes burning in the darkness. He cracked his neck and his knuckles arrogantly and held two bora'nan sickles in each hand. _"The better question is, do you assholes think you can take on Rajmael? Because if you can't…then you don't have a prayer against me."_

"_You arrogant little prick!"_ Iron Bull screamed as he charged the elven assassin. The massive qunari swung his axe that smiling elf, Nethras easily dodged every devastating swing. Iron Bull raised his axe drove it downward to split his opponent in half, but Nethras caught the shaft of the axe with both sickles. Iron Bull brought all his weight bearing down on the smaller elf, trying to force him to his knees. Nethras looked up at his giant opponent, and winked at him.

Nethras shifted to the side and sent all of Iron Bull's weight driving forward. As the qunari's momentum sent him forward, he planted his foot down hard to regain his control and spun back around with a powerful swing at his elven opponent. The instant Bull turned back around, Nethras was in his center with his hands on Iron Bull's weapon. The elf shifted the qunari's center of balance, with his ranged negated. Before Iron Bull had a chance to know what was happening, all three hundred pounds of him was sent flying forward and onto his back with a resounding thud.

I thought only Rajmael could pull off that move, was all that went through Iron Bull's mind. Then Nethras planted his foot right on Bull's head with the force of a sledgehammer being swung by a giant.

At the sight of their companions defeat the Warden and the Seeker attacked the Vir Banal'ras simultaneously. Cassandra slashed with Avenger while Blackwall struck with Thunderstrike, Nethras easily caught and parried each blow. They needed to change their tactics. Blackwall charged Nethras' front while Cassandra took his flank. Nethras jumped out from between them and looped his chain around Blackwall's neck and landed behind the Warden. With his chain around Blackwalls neck, Nethras kicked one of his legs out and forced the Warden to his knee and began choking the life out of him. But before he could strangle Blackwall to death, Nethras decided to slam his head into the wall, and knocked him out like wet candle.

"_It's just you and me now, Seeker."_ Nethras taunted. He threw the spear end of his chain at Cassandra's head, she blocked it with her shield, the spear pierced right through her shield's face. Nethras yanked back the chain and ripped Cassandra's shield right off her arm. The angry Seeker leapt after her shield and lunged her sword at Nethras' face, Nethras dodged his face to the side. Cassandra threw a series of powerful and precise strikes, aiming to stab and cut Nethras down, but he blocked, parried and dodged each move with extraordinary grace and speed. For a moment Cassandra thought she was fighting Rajmael.

Nethras finally caught Cassandra's sword between both his sickles and locked their blades in a stalemate. But Cassandra still had one free hand. She reared back her fist and planted it into Nethras' grinning face with all her might. Nethras snapped his head back with his grin even wider.

"_You hit like a girl!"_ Nethras laughed. He applied so much pressure down on Cassandra's sword, he twisted it out of her hands. Before Cassandra could make another defense, Nethras attacked with several, powerful and incredibly fast spin kicks and knocked her against the wall. Her defeat obvious, Nethras placed one of his blades up against her neck.

"_It's time you Chantry servants learned your…place?"_ Nethras' eyes were distracted by that thing hanging from Cassandra's neck. A silver chain hold an amber amulet with a heart shaped sylvanwood leaf set inside it.

"_No!"_ Cassardra yelled, but he pressed his blade harder agains her neck.

Nethras yanked it off Cassandra's neck and looked at it with betrayal in his eyes_. "I see. Now it all makes…perfect sense."_ He said bitterly.

Nethras removed his blade from Cassandra's neck and socked her in the diaphragm, effectively stunning her. Nethras had his followers collect the prisoners, and he took a moment to look at this amulet. He had almost forgotten about it. He and his wife Evanura gave it to Rajmael the day they asked him to be godfather to their child. It was a sign of all their love for one another. And then Rajmael gave it to a shemlen. And not just any shem, but a devoted servant to the Chantry. How? How could his own brother turn his back on them like this?

**Later at the Entrance to the Temple….**

Rajmael found his way back at the frozen ass crack of the Frostbacks where this temple stood. Obviously the ancient elves who built this place weren't fond of visitors. He had them, the Shards of Sulevin. It wasn't easy, and the demons were difficult to vanquish, but he had them, and he still had Evanura strapped to his back. Now he could finally find out what Nethras was planning, and what he wanted with the Sulevin shards to begin with.

As he walked the path up to the temple he could feel the eyes of every elf in the training yard glaring at him. He didn't give a shit. He was Dirth'ena Enasalin, and they were Vir Banal'ras. They were beneath his skill.

A black-haired elven man and several of his comrades met Rajmael at the top of the stairs. Rajmael could see they were looking for a fight.

"_And where do you think you're going, seth'lin?"_ The assassin asked.

Rajmael's eye twitched angrily at that slur. _"Tell Nethras I have completed my boon, and I demand that he upholds the bargain."_

"_You think you have the right to make demands here, Inquisitor?"_ the assassin sneered_. "Do you honestly think that we'll listen to the words of a traitor?"_

"_No one…calls me a traitor to my face."_ Rajmael's sword flashed out of its sheath, then quickly returned all in one split second. Hardly anyone say the blade even move.

"_Was that supposed to scare me?!"_ The elf laughed. But his laughter was short lived when his body opened up like a closet door, and his innards began spilling out. In that brief instant, Rajmael split the impudent elf from crotch to crown. His eviscerated corpse fell down the stairs and his vital organs spilled out every time he hit the steps.

"_Now, unless you want to join your friend at the bottom of those stairs, get me Nethras! Now!"_ Rajmael demanded.

His point made, the assassins escorted Rajmael to the great hall, where his companions were waiting for him. Rajmael was glad to see they were unharmed.

"_Inquisitor! Oh, thank the Maker you're alright." _Cassandra sighed.

"_Is everyone alright?"_ Rajmael asked.

"_You would not believe what's been going one here, Boss."_ Iron Bull informed uncharacteristically unsettled, and nursing a newly acquired bump on his head.

"_Why? What's been happening since I left?" _Rajmael asked deeply concerned.

"_Your friggin' brother's crazier than a drunk dragon!"_ Sera screeched.

"_I'm with Sera on this one."_ Varric agreed nervously.

"_Excuse me?"_ Rajmael never knew his brother to be crazy. Angry perhaps, but never crazy.

"_Nethras…he…murdered an entire family in this hall we're standing in."_ Blackwall answered.

"_What?!" _Rajmael asked. He could never believe his own brother capable of such a thing.

"_It's true. He wiped out an entire family line."_ Dorian spoke. _"The youngest couldn't have been more than thirteen."_

Rajmael wasn't sure he could believe this. _"Who…who were they?"_

"_It was…it was the village leader who traded you those diseased blankets."_ Cassandra answered. "Nethras killed him and his whole family."

"_He…what?"_ Rajmael's companions told him how Nethras brutally killed Paul Messign and his family. Rajmael wasn't sure how he should feel. But he did feel a sense of…vindication deep inside him.

At that moment Nethras entered the room, and this time everyone saw him coming. _"Rajmael. I knew you'd be able to get the Shards. That the first elf to ever lay hands on them in over eight hundred years should be a follower of Dirthamen and an Arcane Warrior seems so…appropriate. Evanura would be proud."_

"_Would she be proud that you burned an entire family like they were strips of meat over a fire, Nethras?"_ Rajmael asked critically.

"_I wouldn't know. Seeing as how that fat bastard helped kill Evanura, it's a little difficult for me to know what she'd say or do."_ Nethras responded.

"_You think she'd call it justice?"_

"_That shem took all the halla horns we gathered and tried to kill us with disease! Then he and his family made a small fortune off those horns. Where was the justice in that!?" _Nethras argued viciously.

"_Where was the justice in killing Paul's family?" _Solas asked. _"Did they deserve to die for his crime?"_

"_Did my family deserve to die for his crime?"_ Nethras countered heatedly_. "You think that if someone is denied justice for so long, they're just going to sit by and do nothing?!"_

"_There are laws that we all must adhere to."_ Cassandra reminded. _"Laws that even Paul would have had to answer to."_

Nethras took Cassandra's words as an insult. "_Laws?! Laws that allow elves to be treated like dogs, that give Chevaliers the right rape women, and the Chantry to abuse the mages under their care without compunction?!"_ Nethras raved. _"You're laws are what allowed Paul to get away with what he did!"_

"_Enough of this!"_ Rajmael shouted with full authority. _"I got you the broken fucking sword. Now tell me what you're doing!" _Rajmael tossed the case he was carrying with the shards inside.

Nethras examined the case's contents with a look of ecstatic triumph in his eyes. _"Little Brother…you've no idea how much you've accomplished for our people. A deal is a deal, and you've more than proved yourself. Walk with me."_

Nethras led them into a massive chamber adjacent to the Great Hall. In the center of the room was a large stone slab that bore the images and totems of the Creators. The wall was painted with the same kind of murals found in the prayer room they saw before. It depicted the same warriors that had been blessed by Elgar'nan, but this time it depicted them drinking from some kind of fountain. And after drinking from the fountain these warriors ran wildly into the ranks of their enemies with their chained sickles, and then burst into flames and engulfed their enemies with terrible fire. And in the very back of the chamber was a fountain flowing with the clearest water Rajmael had ever seen. Was that the same fountain depicted in the mural?

"_What is this place, Brother?"_ Rajmael finally asked.

"_The ancients had immense power, Little Brother. Power like none in this Age could even imagine. The kind of power Chantry tries to steal for itself."_ Nethras answered cryptically. _"The warriors that served Elgar'nan possessed a rage that made dwarven berserkers look like simpering little girls. It gave them devastating strength, unequaled speed, and heightened senses."_

"_And it also gave them a destructive end."_ Rajmael pointed to the mural where the warriors burst into flames.

"_Halam'shivanas, Brother. The sweet sacrifice of duty, the ultimate honor for any warrior. I would think that one who follows the Dirth'ena Enasalin would understand that better than most."_ Nethras reminded. _"And as a prominent side benefit, it is extremely poisonous to anyone who isn't an elf."_

"_This is was how that elf who attacked the Chevalier encampment was able to destroy so many men in his death."_ Briala concluded.

"_I see now."_ Dorian acknowleged. _"Like the Reavers who use dragon's blood to grant them strength from pain, your Vir Banal'ras draw a new strength from this water you believe to be a blessing from your god."_

_"Correct."_ Nethras confirmed.

"_I have seen the ancient memories of when these warriors fought in battle."_ Solas informed. _"These warriors caused such a devastation it struck fear into the hearts of the ancient empire. It is why this power was so rarely used, and ultimately forgotten."_

"_Yes."_ Nethras confirmed once more.

"_Great. More stupid, creepy elfy shit."_ Sera groaned.

"_Brother, I will continue to honor my agreement to not harm your companions here, but if your pet thief speaks again, I'll cut her up just like I did General Maliphant." _Nethras promised.

"_You heard him, Sera. And I won't stop him either."_ Rajmael promised. He was also getting really tired of Sera's disrespectful attitude.

Sera gave the Inquisitor a dirty look, but kept her lips sealed.

"_What does any of this have to do with the Sulevin?"_ Rajmael inquired. _"It's useless!"_

"_Not quite."_ Nethras answered. He laid out the Shards of Sulevin on the slab and arranged the broken pieces together like a puzzle. The shattered sword laid there in the true form of its ruined glory. _"Amongst my discoveries here, I found a most…advantageous ritual. Useless in some instances, but extremely beneficial in others."_

Nethras pulled out a knife and cut his hand with it, without making a sound. He dripped his blood over the shattered pieces of the sword, chanting in an ancient elven tongue that Rajmael could not interpret. The shards and the slab radiated with a blinding white light, Rajmael, and all the mages present, and even Cassandra could feel the magic smoldering before them. Nethras chanting became quieter, and the bright light became dimmer and soon both ceased altogether. When it was over Rajmael was in complete awe at the sight before him. The Sulevin Blade rested on the white stone slab completely restored to all of its true glory. The blade glimmered like a clear lake with inscription of the sword's name in elves burned like blue candle light. The edge of the sword of the sword was so sharp that as Nethras picked it up, they could hear the sound of it cutting the air. Even the once ruined gems that were set in the sword's hilt, handle and base of the blade were alive with light.

Rajmael couldn't believe his own eyes. Nethras had restored one of the most prized elven artifacts in their history. He now held one of the most powerful weapons in all of Thedas. But what did he need with such a powerful weapon?

"_You have restored the Sulevin to its glory. Now what do you intend to do with it?"_

"_Now, I shall do the same for our people, Little Brother." _Nethras answered.

That was not the answer Rajmael was expecting._ "What do you mean by that?"_

"_Do you honestly think I was just attacking a few Chevaliers and some noble families simply because I bear them a grudge?" _Nethras chuckled. _"You know I don't think so small, Brother. Those noble families I ordered to be killed all had friends and relatives who valued them, and enemies who hated them. Both will soon start fighting against each other again in the name of blood feuds and vendettas, and so soon after a civil war. And the Chevaliers? Well, the Orlesian army just lost its most prominent military mind, thanks to you, Rajmael. Without Gaspard leading them, the Orlesian army will fracture and break when the fighting resumes. Orlais will tear itself apart so that the nobles can play the blame game and murder each other. They'll be too busy to see the Vir Banal'ras moving in the shadows, and killing what little of their forces remain, until all that's left is a crippled ruin ready to topple on itself like a deck of cards. And it will all start here!"_ Nethras pointed to a temple painted on the mural. _"At Nehn'numinas. The Place of Joyful Tears, where all the waters of the world flow. And soon it will flow with Elgar'nan's blessing."_

An appalling look came over Rajmael._ "You...you would taint those holy waters? With this?! Do you have any idea the devastation such a foolish act could wreak!?"_

_"No less than the devastation the shemlen have brought down on our people!"_ Nethras countered._ "These holy waters can finally serve their purpose and carry out the will of Elgar'nan! The All-Father's will must be carried out!"_

_"And at what cost?"_ Solas spoke out ardently. _"You would risk upseting the very balance of nature to fulfill your goal? It is this sort of thinking that brings ruin and destruction. Not magic or armies, but ignorance and arrogance combined with a destructive lack of care of consequences."_

What were these elves talking about? Did Rajmael and Solas know something they did not? Sera and Vivienne certainly didn't seem to care.

"_You cannot possibly think such a plan will work."_ Vivienne scoffed.

"_I know it will, because it already is!"_ Nethras lauded. _"Isn't that right Marquis Briala? The nobles are already gearing to fight one another to avenge their murdered kin, or defend their pathetic honor."_

"_You would cause all this death and destruction…for what?"_ Rajmael asked. _"What do you hope to gain with so much blood?"_

"_The Dales, Rajmael!"_ Nethras said as though the answer should have been obvious. _"With Orlais so weak, we can finally gather our people and take back what they stole from us. We can finally fight back, and this time, we'll win! And when we win, we'll have the one thing our people have dreamed of for thousands of years: a kingdom of our own. It will be just like we dreamed about when we were boys."_

"_You…you're serious…aren't you, Nethras."_ Rajmael asked disbelievingly.

"_Think about it, Rajmael."_ Nethras begged. _"Evanura's dream, our people's dream, can finally be realized. Eva can grow up, even have children of her own on land that's hers, forever. Where she can worship the Creators, and rediscover our lineage without fear of persecution or human ignorance. She can live a better life than either of us have."_ The sincerity and emotion in Nethras was so profound there were almost tears in his eyes.

All this time Rajmael thought all his brother wanted was to kill more humans for what they did. Now he realized all he wanted was to do what he thought was best for their people. It was something every Dalish elf wanted, and in his heart he was still Dalish. But in his heart he also knew that a path as dark as the Vir Banal'ras could only bring more death than life. That was its very nature.

"_And what of those who don't follow this path you're taking? The City Elves and the humans who refuse to surrender?"_

A harsh scowl swept over Nethras' face at the mention of them. _"It's very simple. The humans who don't surrender back what rightfully belongs to us can suffer the same fate our ancestors suffered, when we burn down every Chantry that defiles this land. And the flat-ears, like them…" _he pointed over to Briala and Sera. _"…they can die with shemlen masters."_

"_I…I can't let you do that, Nethras."_ Rajmael stated sternly.

"_I thought you might say that, Brother. That's why I brought something t remind you of why we're fighting."_ Nethras snapped his fingers_. "Bring her!"_

Two elves dragged in a hooded woman. She was whimpering and crying for mercy in such a manner Rajmael really pitied her. Who was she?

Nethras excused his two henchmen and knelt in front of the hooded woman. _"Do you remember the words I told you to say?"_

"_What? Y-yes."_ The woman whimpered.

"_Say them."_

"_Bur…him."_ The woman whispered. What did she say? It was barely audible.

"_Louder."_

"_Burn…him."_ Wait. What did she say? Why did it sound so…familiar?

"_Louder!"_ Nethas ordered.

"_Burn him! Burn him! BURN HIM!"_ The hooded woman sobbed at the top of her lungs.

Rajmael knew that voice. No. No, it couldn't be! He rushed over to the woman and tore the hood from her head and got a good look at her face. It was the face that belonged to his nightmare. She was older now, but it was still her.

"_It's you!"_ Rajmael seethed with angry tears in his eyes.

"_You. You're the Herald of Andraste, aren't you?"_ The woman asked hopefully. "_Please, Your Worship! Help me."_

"_You…don't remember me?"_ Ramael asked offendedly. In a fit of rage he tore the robe off his torso and revealed the horrid burn scars that canvased his whole body. _"Do you remember me now, you sick, evil, murdering bitch!? You're the one who burned me alive!"_

Suddenly everyone realized what Rajmael was so angry about. This was the woman who murdered Rajmael's parents and condemned him to the stake. Nethras was giving him the vengeance that was denied him.

"_Inquisitor…don't!"_ Mother Giselle tried to call. But Nethras stood between them and their leader shaking his head at them. They all looked over to their leader in dread, while Nethras looked on with amusement in his eyes.

"_Let's not spoil this little reunion."_ Nethras smiled sinisterly.

"_You dragged my family out of our home and you ordered the templars to…cut off parents' heads, for worshiping the Creators! And then you strapped me to the steak and burned me!"_ Rajmael remembered vividly.

"_I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I was merely…!"_ Rajmael slapped the simpering old woman across the face, making her cry out in pain.

"_Say my name! My parents' names! Say it like you did when you murdered them!"_ Rajmael demanded furiously. Rajmael's slaps against the former Revered Mother's face sounded like tree branches snapping. _"SAY…MY…NAME!"_

"_I…I can't."_

Rajmael slapped and slapped the murderous Chantry Mother repeatedly, with angry, vicious force with every word. _"Can't or won't!? Me, my father, my mother! You sentenced us to die, now I want to hear you say our names!"_

"_**I DON"T REMEMBER!"**_ The woman sobbed.

"_Yonwyn! Rajmael Yonwyn! That was my name before you stole my life! My father was Dairren, my mother was Renalle! You murdered them!"_ Rajmael screamed furiously.

"_I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You were just elves to me."_ The woman wept.

This…this was the woman who haunted his dreams, gave him nightmares? This pathetic, weeping shem was the one who murdered his parents? All these years Rajmael thought it was a woman of staunch evil, fanatical in her devotion against elvenkind. But no. She was just another coward. But she was still the one who ordered the deaths of his parents. Unconsciously fueled by rage and grief, Rajmael drew his sword and raised it over the simpering Chantry priest.

"_No! Rajmael don't do it!"_ Cassandra begged.

"_Do it! Kill her!"_ Nethras urged. _"She was willing to kill you!"_

"_Her crime was grave, but you don't have to be like her!"_ Cassandra urged.

"_She already murdered your parents, and she would have killed you if my father didn't rescue you!"_ Nethras reminded intensely. _"Justice must be served, Rajmael!_ _Kill her. Kill her. __**KILL HER!**__"_

"_This isn't the way. It is not your way Rajmael!"_ Cassandra pleaded desperately. _"This is not the way of Dirthamen!"_

Rajmael screamed in agony and rage, then brought sword down to bare on his family's killer. The chamber became silent. There was not a sound to be made, and everyone stood in shock. Rajmael's blade stopped mere hairs away from the priestess' face.

"_Kill a pathetic nothing like you in the name of my parents? No. You are not worthy of such an honor. It would only serve to degrade their memory."_ Rajmael said bitterly_. "Unlike you, and the sick freaks like you, I am not a murderer."_

"_I…am so sor…shckt!"_ Before she could finish saying anything, Nethras' sickle flew across her neck and knocked her head off. The severed head rolled before Nethras, and he crushed it beneath his foot like a pumpkin.

"_I'm…disappointed, Rajmael. I thought, perhaps, you of all people would have the strength of character to do what was right. But I see I was wrong."_ Nethras scowled.

"_This…is not my way, Nethras. It is not the Path of Dirthamen."_

"_The Path of Dirthamem!? You priests and your holier-than-thou ways is what has held us back for all these centuries! But is it truly the Path of Dirthamen holding you back…or is it this?"_ Nethras held out the amber amulet he took from Cassandra, Rajmael looked at his brother in anger. _"This speaks volumes of your loyalty, Brother. Both to me and to our people. Tell me, do you honestly think this shemlen bitch is an adequate replacement for Evanura? Because if you do, you're fucking mistaken."_

Rajmael shot Nethras an angry look for calling Cassandra a bitch._ "No one can ever replace Evanura for either of us, Nethras. What I feel for her is between us and no one else."_

Nethras laughed with bitter sarcasm.

"_Right. The charming elf from the woods woos the wayward Nevarran princess with his exotic charm. Then the two of you face down the world, and live happily ever fucking after. Right? Don't make me laugh, Rajmael!"_ Nethras scorned. _"You honestly think she, a Seeker, could ever accept a pagan elf and a mage, like you for what you truly are?!"_

"_This has nothing to do with Cassandra, Evanura or anything else for that matter, Nethras. __What you're doing could unravel everything I'm trying to do for this world. You could inadvertently bring about our destruction!"_ Rajmael tried to reason with Nethras. His adopted brother's plans would serve Corypheus' goals more than their peoples.

"_Oh, I do understand, Rajmael."_ Nethras seethed with betrayal_. "You are the Inquisitor, and the Herald of Andraste. You must remain loyal to the weak-willed faithful masses. Whereas I'm just another elf trying to fight for my people. And our paths conflict with one another."_

Rajmael scowled bitterly at Nethras for calling him the Herald. _"I'm afraid they do, Brother."_

The two elven warriors stared each other down, their sword hands itching. In flash like lightning, Nethras grabbed the Sulevin Blade off the altar and struck at Rajmael with the legendary sword. The attack came at Rajmael so fast he was barely able to block it. There was so much force behind Nethras' attack it sent Rajmael flying through the door and back into the Great Hall, like he'd been backhanded by high dragon.

Rajmael staggered back to his feet, disoriented and seeing double. If he hadn't had the Enasalin to block that attack the sheer power of the Sulevin would have probably killed him. In all his years of studying elven magic, he never would have imagined that such a weapon could be so powerful.

Nethras' followers and Rajmael's companions gathered around to watch these two leaders fight.

"_Rajmael!"_ Cassandra called as she and the others ran towards him.

"_Stop!"_ Rajmael ordered. _"This is my fight."_

Rajmael stood firm and both of them assumed the sword stances. Rajmael held Enasalin in his center, while Nethras held Sulevin in a high guard. Rajmael activated his Shimmering Shield, while Nethras' eyes burned with the power of Elgar'nan's blessing. With his enhanced speed and strength, Nethras brought Sulevin down to bear with all his might. Rajmael blocked the attack, but the sheer force of Sulevin forced Rajmael to his knees, and Nethras kept pressing down. Rajmael force pushed his brother off him and launched several bolts of lightning from Enasalin's blade.

Nethras dodged each bolt of lightning, each one only striking his afterimage. Rajmael swung his sword with an intricate flourish and threw a wave white hot veilfire at Nethras, aiming to cut him vertically in half. Nethras met the wave of veilfire with the edge of the Sulevin, and broke the attack in twain. So far, Nethras hadn't been using the Sulevin's full power, Rajmael needed to end this quickly.

The two elven leaders exchanged an acknowledging glance, and assumed one more stance. Nethras took a low guard with the sword tailing behind him. This stance was known as Fen'harel's Tail, a deceptive and devastating stance if used correctly. Rajmael bent his legs low, as though he was coiled to strike, and held his sword horizontally towards his opponent, like he was holding a lance. This stance was known as Andruil's Spear, a technique meant to kill any and all opposition before you in a powerful lunge.

Their eyes did not break from one another. And time became still as they waited for the final moment. The two swordsman broke off and dashed at each other with their respective strikes. Nethras with Sulevin, and Rajmael with Enaslin. It all happened so fast, that neither of their followers knew who won.

Nethras' sword faltered from his grip, his face twisted with pain. _"Dareth shiral…my brother."_

Rajmael's sword dropped from his hand, ad wave of crimson erupted from his chest. He fell to his knees as though he were in prayer, but no prayers escaped his lips. Just the sound of his dying breath escaping his lips. And the last thing he heard was Cassandra's horrified voice.

"_**NOO-OO! RAJMAEL!"**_

**Language Codex:**

**Sulevin:** Elven, translates as _"Certainty"_ or _"Purpose"_

**Quenethera ne:** Elven question, translates as _"Who are you?"_

**Garas Quenethera:** Elven question, translate as _"Why have you come?"_

**Emma Rajmael Yonwyn Lavellan:** Elven, translates as _"I am Rajmael Yonwyn Lavellan."_

**Dirth'ena Enasalin:** Elven, translates as_ "Knowledge That Leads to Victory."_

**Vir Banal'ras:** Elven, translates as _"The Path of Shadow."_

**Mana elgara! Ar sa mala revas! Ar in'ara ne asan!:** Elven, roughly translate as _"Stop Spirit! I take away your freedom! I bind you here to this place!"_

**Seth'lin:** Elven slur, translates as _"Thin Blood."_

**Halam'shivanas:** Elven, translates as _"The Sweet Sacrifice of Duty."_

**Nehn'numinas:** Elven, roughly translates as _"The Place of Joyful Tears"_

**Dareth Shiral:** Elven farewell, translates as _"Safe Journey."_

**Ma vhenan: **Elven endearment, translates as _"My heart"_ or _"My love"_.

**Mien'harel:** Elven, a term for rebellion amongst city elves, roughly translates as _"Short blade."_


	20. The Way of Shadow: Part IV

**The Way of Shadow: Part IV**

**Earlier at the Cradle of Sulevin….**

"**_ENASALIN!" _**

Rajmael's war cry echoed throughout the ruined temple as he engaged the demons. Only an idiot would try to attack four Revenants possessed by Pride Demons. He jumped over all four and threw a massive fire ball at them, and used the explosion to lift him to the next floor. His fiery attack did nothing except make the Revenants laugh at him. One of the mocking entities vanished in a puff of smoke. Where did he go? Rajmael could still feel its malevolent presence. He could feel it…right behind him!

Without turning behind to look, Rajmael instinctively blocked the Revenant's overhead strike with Enasalin, then phased incorporeally behind the creature and in one deft stroke, knocked its head off with Evanura. The Revenant fell to its knees, and its head rolled of the stump that used to be its neck and crumbled to dust, leaving behind what looked like the handle of a sword.

Before Rajmael could think of picking it up, the second Revenant appeared and swung its inhumanly long sword at Rajmael, aiming to split the intruder in half. The Inquisitor dove beneath the powerful swing and grabbed the shattered sword handle and did a perfectly timed front handspring back on to his feet, only to land right in front of the third Revenant. He jumped up to meet the demons face, then planted his foot into its armored chest and flip kicked right off the creature, snapping its head and neck backwards like a horseshoe.

Rajmael jumped back several feet, the Revenant he kicked snapped its helmed head back on straight, and both demons glared down at the sprightly elven mage-warrior before them with their cruel swords ready and malicious glee in their eyes. It had been a while since an intruder had entertained them so well.

Enasalin in his right hand, Evanura in his left, and now he was backed up against a wall with two powerful Revenant standing in front of him. There was only option before the Inquisitor at this moment: fucking kill them!

The three combatants engaged one another, the two demons against the single elf. They swung their incredibly long swords with astounding ease while Rajmael blocked and counter attacked with relentless tenacity. His two swords blazing with purifying veilfire, the Arcane Warrior actually managed to drive his larger, demonic adversaries back. The second brought his sword down with a powerful overhead strike, forcing Rajmael to block with both swords, while the third one stuck its weapon into the ground and conjured an attack of dark energy in its hand. Not wanting to be a stationary target, Rajmael phased away from the Revenant pinning him down, and threw Evanura at the infernal beast and separated its head from its neck with the swords burning white blade. The headless body disintegrated to dust and left a ruined sword hilt behind.

That was two out of four by decapitation in the intruder's favor. The third Revenant decided it was not going to fall so easily. It stretched out its hand and launched an ethereal claw at the Arcane Warrior. Rajmael deflected the claw and flashed an arrogant grin at the demon as he mimicked the creature's clawing motion and pulled the air towards him. There was a loud thunk, like metal being punctured. The Revenant looked down and saw Evanura's blade sticking out of its chest like a tree branch. A shrill screech erupted from the possessed corpse as the blade ignited with cleansing veilfire, and burned its victim to ash, leaving behind a tarnished, bejeweled pommel.

Rajmael lifted his hand and magically summoned Evanura back to his grip. He picked up the second and third Shards of Sulevin left behind by his infernal victim, and glared down at the final Revenant that was waiting on the floor below him. It looked up to him and motioned its hand beckoningly, daring him; Rajmael wasn't going to keep it waiting.

The Inquisitor pounced down at the demon, both swords blazing with white veilfire. The final Revenant blocked both swords with the face of its shield, but Rajmael came down on it with such force, the veilfire on his blades burning with such purity, the thing's shield splintered like wood. Rajmael was not going to relent, not with victory so close. The Revenant brought its sword down on the Inquisitor with all its might, Rajmael blocked the demonic blade with both swords and shattered it between them with all the strength he could muster. Unarmed and alone, the Revenant stood no chance against the relentless assault from the Inquisitor as he rained down his flaming white swords on the possessed corpse with epic speed and ferocity. Within seconds, the Revenant was cut down into pieces, and those pieces turned to ash. And amongst that pile of ash was the final Shard of Sulevin. The blade was tarnished black, like it had been left in a fire pit, but the edge was still so sharp.

He had done it, he accomplished the impossible. A sense of victory overcame Rajmael, for the first time in eight hundred years an elf actually held the Shards of Sulevin in his hands. He had accomplished a piece of his people's dream and reclaimed an irreplaceable piece of their heritage. Rajmael's sense of accomplishment was soon overcome with a sense of dread and worry. What could Nethras have planned for this ancient and mighty weapon? In all good conscience, Rajmael could not let Nethras possess this sword, nor could he return to him empty handed. What could he do? Then a plan crossed Rajmael's mind. A plan that involved a certain eccentric dwarven Arcanist. Rajmael would put Dagna's skills to the test, and he hoped her furnace was hot by the time he got there.

**The Temple of Elgar'nan, Present Time….**

"**_NOOO! Rajmael!" _**Cassandra screamed in horror as she watched the man she loved fall to the ground in a pool of his own blood. She, Varric and Cole frantically ran to Rajmael's body.

"_This cannot be happening."_ Varric denied as he ran.

"_No. No. NO!"_ Cole said as though repeating would make it true.

"_RAAAGH! YOU BASTAAARD!"_ Iron Bull roared as he angrily, blindly charged Nethras, with the intent to snap his neck for what he did to Rajmael.

"_Maker damn you!"_ Blackwall cursed as he attacked alongside Iron Bull.

"_You'll pay for this!"_ Dorian promised as he unleashed several balls of fire.

Vivienne launched a flurry of icicles at Nethras' head. _"Do you realize what you've done!?"_

"_Stupid-Ass, elfy, shit-faced motherfucker!" _Sera cursed as she loosed an arrow with each profanity at Nethras.

Solas' staff blazed with offensive magical energy and he hurled a Spirit Fist at Rajmael's killer. "_How could you!?"_

The Iron Bull threw his muscular fist at the elven assassin with the intent to crush him flat. Nethras easily intercepted the Qunari's angry blow and threw him into the Grey Warden, knocking both warriors on their backs, and simultaneously deflected Sera's arrows, and the mage's projectiles. Nethras placed his foot on Iron Bull's throat and put down enough pressure that with a flick of his ankle he could kill the massive oxman if he chose to, and rested the tip of his sword on Blackwall's throat. Blackwall could actually feel the edge of the sword tickling his beard.

Painful tears of rage welled up in Cassandra's eyes as she looked down at Rajmael's cloven body. She unsheathed the Avenger and furiously attacked Nethras. Nethras backed away from the Warden and the Qunari, and focused on the pissed off Seeker. There was no thought, no care or technique in Cassandra's attacks, she was too overflowing with rage to give a shit. All she wanted was to knock this bastard's head off, to cleave his skull in half, and rip his heart out just as he did to her. She was so blinded by her anger Nethras was easily able to dodge each furious attack. Nethras dodged one more blind attack and planted his fist into her diaphragm, knocking the wind right of her, and launched her ten feet away from him. Cassandra doubled over and tried to breathe air back into her lungs.

Nethras raised his hand and all of his marksman, assassins and even mages that he had recruited raised their arms against the now deceased Inquisitor's companions.

"_Enough!"_ Nethras demanded as he brandished the mighty Sulevin Blade. _"I could kill all of you if I wish!"_

Cassandra, Cole and Varric went to Rajmael's side. A river of blood was running from the destroyed remnants of his Keeper's Robe. The horrid wound that Nethras' sword had inflicted stretched from his left shoulder all the way beneath his right ribcage. Cassandra tried to feel for a pulse. Maybe he could still be saved, they could get him healing magic. Please, Sweet Andraste, let him be saved. There was nothing. His pulse was completely still. Rajmael was dead.

Cassandra wept silently over her lover's body and whispered a final prayer for him. She then turned her gaze over to Nethras, the bastard who murdered the man she loved, Rajmael's own brother.

"_You killed him! You killed him!"_ Cassandra snarled with angry tears. Varric and Cole did their best to hold her back, lest she suffer Rajmael's fate.

"_Halamshivaris, shemlen! The sweet sacrifice of duty!"_ Nethras growled back. _"For the Dirth'ena Enasalin, there is no greater honor. And I will regret and hate myself for it until the day I die."_ Nethras looked down at his brother's lifeless face with a glint of pitty and regret in his eyes and sighed a deep breath of remorse. _"My brother chose his path, just I chose mine, and my conviction to the path was stronger than his. I don't understand why, but my brother cared about you. And because Rajmael cared about you, I'm going to let you and your followers to leave this temple alive."_

The Vir Banal'ras herded the Inquisition agents to the middle of the room where Cassandra was still holding Rajmael's body, all except Marquis Briala.

"_You're not going anywhere, I'm afraid, Marquis."_ Nethras said the title as though it tasted bitterly in his mouth. _"You have information I want, and I still want the Eluvians."_ Nethras looked down at Cassandra who was still giving him that hateful glare that could make dragons feel fear. Deep down he didn't blame her, but he wouldn't accept being judged by her. _"Don'e give me that look, Seeker. How many of your own holy brothers and sisters did you kill, or would have killed if your precious Chantry commanded it?"_

Mother Giselle looked down upon Rajmael with a look of forlorn sadness. She raised her hand over the Inquisitor's body to recite a prayer. _"Ashes we were, and to ashes we return…."_

"**_SHUT UP!"_** Nethras demanded, his voice was so powerful it took Giselle back. _"You will not profane this temple with your false god's prayers, and I will not let you dishonor my brother with your heresy! Your Maker is unworthy of Rajmael's soul. If you truly care about Rajmael, then give him a Dalish burial. Invoke the rites of our gods and plant a Vallasdahlen tree over his grave. He deserves that much."_ Nethras pulled on a nearby lever and the floor beneath of them began to descend like an elevator.

Cassandra never took her hateful glare of Nethras as they began to descend downward. _"This isn't the end, Nethras. The Inquisition will find you, and make you pay for this!"_ The angry Seeker promised.

Nethras laughed at Cassandra's threat as she and all her companions descended further down the hidden shaft. _"I think you know better than I do, Seeker, that without an Inquisitor, the Inquisition is nothing. And I think you know just as well as I do, that there is no one who could ever replace Rajmael."_

**~XoXoXo~**

Nethras waited until the lift carrying Rajmael's companions and his body descended out of sight. He held the Sulevin in his hand and looked at it's blade intently. He pulled a cloth from his vest and began cleaning his brother's blood from the sword's blade with respected deference, as if the blood was more sacred to him than the blade. After thoroughly cleaning and sheathing the legendary weapon, he turned his attention back to his men, and the Marquis.

_"Vir Banal'ras! We are very near to reaching our goal."_ Nethras addressed authoritatively. _"Gather the Blessings and each unit follow their given path where we will rendezvous at Nehn'numinas. Velara, you will accompany me, and bring the Marquis with us."_

_"As you wish, Hah'ren."_ Velara said obediently.

Briala glared hatefully at Nethras. If her gaze were arrows, Nethras would be a pincushion right now. The elven radicle noticed the Marquis glare, and he wasn't intimidated or impressed.

_"Don't give me that look, Marquis. You don't have the right to judge me."_ Nethras said with a vitriolic tone.

Briala couldn't believe the arrogance she was hearing from this man. _"Don't have the right? You just murdered your own brother! I'd say that gives any half-decent soul alive would have the right to judge you, you bastard!"_

_"That'd be true if you were a half-decent person, but you're not. Are you, Marquis Briala?"_ Nethras asked skeptically. _"You whored yourself out to the Empress of a nation that spits on our people from her ivory palace. You slept on silks doing your lover's dirty work while the rest of us were starving and living in fear. You never even bothered to stand with your fellow elves until after your precious Celene fucked your life up."_

Briala stayed silent, but continued to glare daggers at the murdering radical.

_"And when you finally started doing something meaningful with your pathetic existence, leading our people against our oppressors. But then you failed so epically, and by your own choice."_ Nethras continued with disgust. _"You _chose_ to return to your lover's hypocritical, scheming arms than to keep fighting for our people. You _chose_ to compromise than truly stand for what you believe. And compromise is just another form of subjugation."_ Nethras cringed at that word. When the Chantry conquered the Dales, the elves who surrendered made the worst compromise in history. It was a word he learned to hate._ "You were never a leader, Briala. Just another servant looking for more benefits from your master."_

_"And what about Inquisitor Lavellan? Was he just another pretender, or was he just another obstacle for you to step on?"_ Briala demanded fiercely.

Nethras glared back at Briala, deeply offended that she would dare invoke his name. _"Rajmael was a truer elf and greater leader than you could ever dream of being, seth'lin! He _never_ compromised his honor. He never let anything dictate what he believed in, and wasn't afraid to fight for it...to die for it. You couldn't begin to hold a candle to my brother, and you don't have the right to even speak his name."_

Nethras snapped his fingers and signaled his men to take Briala away. He walked back through the dark corridors of the temple and stood before the great shrine of Elgar'nan in secluded privacy. Nethras held the cloth that was now covered in Rajmael's blood in his hand and stared at it. Remorse and regret welled up inside of him. He angrily smashed his fist against the wall, feeling nothing but sorrow and anger at himself. Was this what he had been reduced to? Had he fallen so low that he now shed the blood of the brother he loved to accomplish his goals? How does this make him any better than the shemlen he despised?

No. Nethras could not allow himself to falter now. Not when he was so close. Rajmael never faltered in his own path, never backed down, not even to him. If Nethras was going to save their people, he needed to do the same, even if it ripped his soul apart to do it. The only way he could honor his brother now was to finish what he started. Nethras allowed himself a moment of weakness and shed a single tear for his beloved Little Brother and whispered.

_"Evanura...if you're out there, please forgive me. Because I will never forgive myself. I do this...so our daughter will not suffer as we did."_

**~XoXoXo~**

The lift made its final descent and the gears moving it made a thunderous echo as landed on the final floor at the base of the mountain. Eveyone gathered around Cassandra as she cradled Rajmael's head in her lap, her tears falling on his face. Amongst the torrent of emotion they were all feeling, they all wondered the same thing: what were they going to do now? The Inquisitor, their leader, and for most of them, a dear friend. Not only did he have the power to seal rifts, a gift they needed to combat Corypheus, but he also had the gift of bringing people from all walks of life, race and creed to a common cause, to make them like brethren. Just look at them. Without Rajmael, all his companions would have probably killed each other by now, or not even had bothered with the Inquisition's mad quest to begin with. But right now, none of them were more distraught, or heartbroken, than Cassandra.

Cassandra held her beloved's head in her lap, her bitter, salty tears stung her eyes as she removed several stray hairs from Rajmael's beautiful face. Her heart ached in a way she had not known since her brother, Antony, was murdered, it was a pain she wished that would never have to feel ever again. Cassandra couldn't help but contemplate the sick irony of it all: when she first met Rajmael, she wanted him dead. Now she wanted him back, to hold her, make her smile, to make her feel the joy she didn't know existed. After years of dedicated loyalty and service in His name, Cassandra wished more than anything that the Maker would show her an ounce of kindness.

"_No. No he…he is not gone yet. Cassandra, he isn't gone."_ Cole said consolingly. The living spirit grabbed Rajmael's lifeless arm as if he wanted to wake him up.

Vivienne looked at Cole with disgusted outrage. _"Not even dead for an hour and already this thing wants to possess the Inquisitor's corpse."_

Something fell from Rajmael's coat. Some kind of coin. Cole picked it up and held it close like it was trying to tell him something.

"_Cole, now's not the time for your oddities."_ Dorian tried to explain, still feeling the effects of Rajmael's sudden death.

"_Ugh! I think this thing's broken."_ Sera grunted.

"_No. Cole, what do you mean he's not gone yet? What are you saying?"_ Cassandra asked with fervent hope.

"_He…he wanted you to do something. If the worst happened."_ Cole tried to explain like. It was as if he was trying to relay the answers from some invisible voice_. "He had a plan. He needed you to do something…"_

Wait. Was Cole trying to say Rajmael knew he would probably die? Was there a way to save him? "What, Cole? What did Rajmael need me to do?" Cassandra asked desperately.

Everyone stood around the pale young man waiting for his answer, but Cole had this completely dumbfounded look on his face_. "Sleep?"_

There was a long awkward silence amongst them.

"_Wait. You're saying Rajmael knew he might die, and after such a traumatic event, he wanted Cassandra to take a nap?"_ Dorian asked disbelievingly.

"_Yep. This thing's definitely broken."_ Sera confirmed.

"_Kid, can you be a little more specific?"_ Iron Bull asked.

"_He wants Cassandra to do that thing she does in bed?"_ Cole answered confusedly_. "But what else do people do in bed besides sleep?"_

"_Cassandra…."_ Varric asked with suggestive look on his face. _"What's Cole talking about."_

Everyone's attention suddenly turned to Cassandra, who was now trying to hide the shade of red she was blushing. She knew exactly what Cole was talking about. Cassandra motioned Solas over to her and whispered what Cole was talking about into his pointed ear.

"_Really, Seeker?"_ Solas almost embarrassedly, his own cheeks almost turning red. Cassandra nodded her head slightly in embarrassment. _"Well, that certainly…redefines the, er, applications of Templar techniques on mages."_ The awkward look on Solas' face was soon wiped away and replaced with realization. _"Of course. Of course! That was his plan!"_

Solas tore open Rajmael's coat and unveiled the grievous sword wound that stretched from his left should to the bottom of his right ribcage. The blood had stopped flowing and was now like a caked, nearly black canvas over the burn scars on Rajmael's body. The urgency with which the elven apostate was moving confused everyone else.

"_Hey, Chuckles, what's going on?"_ Varric asked.

"_If you intend to do an autopsy, then you're being redundant. The cause of death is obvious."_ Vivienne commented.

"_Seeker Cassandra uses her abilities to ignite the lyrium in Rajmael's veins to heighten passion while they're having intercourse."_ Solas answered nonchalantly, causing Cassandra's blush to grow deeper. Everyone looked at Cassandra with bawdy surprise.

Vivienne wrinkled her nose in disgust. _"That is rather crass, and most irrelevant…."_

"_And definitely worthy of its own publication."_ Varric interjected.

"_What does their bedroom behavior have to do with our current situation?" _Vivienne finished.

"_Unlike Templars who can only suppress magic, Seekers are capable of both suppressing and igniting the lyrium in a person's veins, like electrocuting someone with lightning."_ Solas explained.

"_Sorry, what? Does anyone else get this magey stuff, or is it just me?"_ Sera asked absently.

"_Nope, I'm right there with you."_ Iron Bull answered.

"_Cassandra, you, and you alone, right now have the power to save Rajmael."_ Solas beseeched. _"I don't know what his plan was, or if it will even work, but whatever he intended, he meant for you to save him."_

Cassandra knew what she needed to do. She wasn't going to fail Rajmael like she did Antony and Regalyan. She was not going to lose the man she loved. Cassandra placed her hands over Rajmael's chest and focused. She cleared her mind of everything and concentrated only on the lyrium in her lover's veins. It was there, it was somehow still alive, but it was faint, like the dying embers of a dead fire, but they were still fighting to burn. Cassandra extended her will and connected herself to the lyrium in Rajmael, and made the embers burn with life. Everyone watched in amazement as the blood that caked on Rajmael's body became liquid once more and crawled back inside of him as the horrid death wound began to close. Within a matter of moments, all traces of Rajmael's injuries had been erased, but still he remained lifeless, not even a pulse.

Cassandra felt the weight of mountains crushing her heart and smothering all hope in her soul_. "This is it? Even after all this, I still lose him?"_ Cassandra choked back her sobbing. _"Solas…is there nothing else I can do?"_

Cassandra felt something familiar squeeze her hand. She opened her eyes and found Rajmael's beautiful golden eyes looking back at her, and in that moment, she felt her heart almost burst with joy. _"Once again, my goddess came for me…hmph!"_

Rajmael was unable to say anything else because Cassandra desperately crushed her lips to his and kissed him with all the joy she was feeling right now. He was alive, he was alive and still with her. There was no way to describe the happiness she was feeling right now.

A wave of relief, joy and disbelief washed over all of Rajmael's companions as they watched their leader, who they all truly believed to be dead, was kissing Cassandra like there was no tomorrow. Right now, they could all relate to how the Seeker was feeling.

Iron Bull turned away from everyone else, he didn't want them to notice he was probably going to cry. He lost too many friends and comrades that he couldn't save, and to have a good friend suddenly come back was almost too good to be true.

Cole hid his face under his hat and cried softly with a look of confusion on his face. _"Why am I crying? I'm happy the Inquisitor's not dead, but I can't stop crying."_

"_I know the feeling, kid."_ Varric patted Cole on the shoulder. _"Don't worry, it's nothing bad. Probably one of the best feelings in the world."_

"_I'm glad to see the Maker was on our side for once."_ Blackwall sighed with relief.

"_I knew it would take more than that to kill the Inquisitor."_ Dorian stated he wiped his eyes.

"_Praise the Maker. It's a miracle."_ Mother Giselle praised.

"_A miracle? Hardly!"_ Rajmael denounced as he separated his lips from Cassandra's. _"Just a very risky, and very well thought out plan."_

"_But how is this possible? The Sulevin Blade should have killed you!"_ Solas asked.

"_Indeed. You lost so much blood, had no pulse, for all intents and purposes you were dead."_ Vivienne added.

"_You're not some kind of…dead..corpsey thing, are you?"_ Sera asked nervously.

"_No, I'm not undead, you twit!"_ Rajmael answered. _"I'm Dirth'ena Enaslin! My power lies in master of my own being, and my body is just another tool I can control. At the very last second I lowered my Shimmering Shield enough to take just enough damage from the Sulevin Blade, but I used all my mana to freeze the lyrium in body and put myself in a death-like trance. If Cassandra hadn't ignited the lyrium in my body I would have died from my heart being still for too long."_

"_Wait. You're saying all this was a feint?"_ Dorian asked_. "You don't think that was too risky?"_

"_You've played chess and Wicked Grace, Dorian. Sometimes to get the big win, you need to make a big risk and a really big bluff, and sacrifice almost half the blood in your body."_ Rajmael groaned as he tried to sit himself up.

"_Damn! Remind me never to play cards against you!"_ Varric laughed.

"_But why? What was the point of all the deception?"_ Iron Bull asked.

"_Dirth'ena Enasalin means Knowledge That Leads to Victory. In that title the word 'Knowledge' comes first."_ Rajmael answered. _"I needed to know what Nethras was planning, and there was no way I could mount a siege or send our forces against the temple, it's too well positioned and fortified. And I had to fool Nethras into thinking I can no longer threaten him. Now I know exactly what he is planning to do, where he is going to execute his plan, and his guard will be down and his spirit conflicted now that he thinks that he's killed me."_

"_You knew Cole would find that coin in your coat and that Cassandra would be able to wake you from your self-induced coma? Really?" _Blackwall asked disbelievingly.

"_That…was actually the biggest gamble I've ever made in my life."_ Rajmael confessed_. "But I had faith in both of them."_ Cassandra and Cole both smiled happily at the Inquisitor for his faith, and were proud to have been so important in his plan. _"But seriously though, can someone give me a poultice and some lyrium. I'm actually in a shit load of pain."_

Rajmael quaffed both the lyrium vials and the health poultice like he was downing a shots of whiskey. Both potions regenerated his wounds and replenished his mana. Within moments Rajmael had enough mana to fully heal himself completely.

"_Inquisitor, you said you know what Nethras is planning. Something about another elven temple. What do you mean?"_ Cassandra inquired.

A bitter look came over Rajmael's face. _"Nehn'numinas. The Place of Joyful Tears. According to Dalish lore that place is where all the waters in Thedas converge. Every river, stream, every ounce of water that flows throughout this continent flows there. In the time of the Elvhen Empire, the ancient priests would convey at that place and bless the waters that flowed there with the favor of the gods they served, and those blessings would be carried throughout the rest of the empire. Nethras plans to taint the waters with Elgar'nan's Blessing and poison any and all humans not just in Orlais, but in Ferelden, Nevarra the Free Marches, and kill them. The death toll will be…genocidal."_

"_Sweet Maker…that's insane."_ Blackwall stated.

"_Wow. And here I thought only my own countrymen were capable of destruction on such grand scale."_ Dorian said sarcastically.

"_People have hurt him, and now he wants to hurt everyone."_ Cole said sadly.

Varric shook his head. _"This sort of thing makes what Blondie did seem like a minor accident."_

"_Vengeance has completely poisoned Nethras' judgement."_ Solas confirmed.

"_Using chemical warfare to wipe out his enemies."_ Iron Bull sighed_. "I didn't know the elves had it in 'em. I thought only the Qunari did that sort of thing."_

"_He would murder countless innocents for what the few and misguided have done?"_ Mother Giselle gasped.

"_How can he even think of doing such a thing?"_ Cassandra asked abashed.

"_He's a terrorist, dear Cassandra."_ Vivienne answered haughtily_. "It doesn't matter why he does anything. It's this sort of action that makes those in power despise elves."_

"_Stupid elf doing stupid shit, now he's using stupid elfy crap to hurt people."_ Sera commented in disgust. _"This is why elves are stupid, trying to be elves instead of being people."_

A dangerous glare shot through Rajmael's eyes. He had enough. The Inquisitor got up, despite the pain he was still in, walked up to Sera and Vivienne, and slammed their heads together so hard they were both probably seeing stars. The he kicked their legs out from under them both, making them land flat on their backs.

"_I…I never!"_ Vivienne said in complete shock as she rubbed her throbbing forehead.

"_What the fuck!?"_ Sera cursed.

They both shut their mouths the instant Rajmael drew his sword on them. _"Shut up! You will not insult Nethras, or my people, in front of me again! You have no right to judge him, or anyone who follows him!" _Rajmael looked at them, and then everyone else. _"You humans speak of nobility and strut around with it like peacocks, but the instant someone, something stands in the way between you and whatever it is you desire, you lie, cheat, murder and hide behind your illusions of nobility to get it. Amongst the Dalish, many of us are taught that humans lack honor, morals, any semblance of nobility, and much of what I've seen leading this fucking Inquisition proves us right."_

"_Even after everything that they've done, even knowing what they plan to do, you would still defend those assassins because they are elves?"_ Vivienne asked incredulously as she staggered to her feet.

"_You're damned right I do!"_ Rajmael spat_. "Just like you keep defending those rotting shit-sacks you call the Orlesian Empire and the Chantry. It was Nethras' father, Junnarel, saved my life when I was condemned to burn. He owed me and my parents nothing, he could have just left me there to roast on the pyre and gone home, but instead he risked the Chantry's wrath and saved me. His wife, Ariva, healed my wounds and sang to me while I slept, then she adopted me and raised me as her own instead of treating me like a flat-eared stranger."_

"_None of that changes the fact that these elves are acting like shits."_ Sera pointed out vehemently.

"_What do you, what do any of you know about being an elf? Yes! Elves are a shitty, violent, self-righteous people! We hate the world and we'd sooner break a shemlens neck than break bread with them. But who taught them to hate the world, who showed them how to be nasty and violent? You did!"_ Rajmael pointed his sword to everyone in the cave. _"You humans enslave elves! Under your laws it's not a crime to murder or rape an elf, but the instant elves try to take any justice for themselves, you punish them like they started it! You showed us that the only way to get anything in this world is to be violent and vengeful!"_

Rajmael's attention turned back to the Friend of Red Jenny. _"And you…Sera! It was elves like you, flat-eared shits who spit on your own kind that turned my family over to the Chantry! It was elves like you that murdered my parents, because us being elves was so horrible!"_ Sera tried to return Rajmael's angry gaze, but his eyes were more powerful, and she turned her head away in shame. _"You were raised as noblewoman's adopted child and lived in fancy manor, but you spit on the nobility and elves alike. I pity how empty and pointless your life is."_

The Inquisitor turned his hateful gaze to Mother Giselle_. "And you, and the entire fucking Chantry…your crimes against the elves are the worst! Did you even notice that most of the elves who follow Nethras aren't Dalish? They're City Elves who are tired of your lies, your false promises. When the elves surrendered at Halamshiral, you promised to give them protection if they accepted the surrender and followed the Maker. But where's your protection when Chevaliers rape elven women, or test their swords on elves out past curfew? Where was your protection when Empress Celene burned Halamshiral's Alienage?! Huh?! Answer me! Where is your protection!?"_

Once again Rajmael had brought up the injustices of the Chantry, and once again Mother Giselle had no answer for him. _"I am sorry, Inquisitor. But that is one more failure the Chantry bares."_

"_None of you have the right to judge Nethras for being the nightmare you made him to be."_ Rajmael seethed. _"Only I have that right. As a Dalish elf, and his brother, I have to show him that this is not the way. And I have to be the one to end the nightmare. This is the burden I must bear, and it has my burden ever since your holy Templars and beloved faithful murdered my family. And you know what the funny thing is? Three years ago, I might have joined him after what the Templars did."_

Rajmael walked to the entrance of the cave to calm down, and once again all his followers were left stunned by his words, more so than usual given the fact that they had just given him up for dead not an hour ago. Sera and Mother Giselle were especially shaken by his words, though Sera seemed more angry than shaken. Dorian also felt a wedge of guilt grinding into him because while Rajmael never said it, he knew in his heart that the plight of elves throughout the world was yet another fault of his countrymen, and coming from a family of slave owners.

"_Well, that was…bracing."_ Blackwall admitted.

"_Not back from the dead for ten minutes and the Boss is already laying down the law." _Iron Bull added. _"I love working for this guy."_

"_He hurts."_ Cole informed. _"His brother is broken inside because of what the humans did, now he has to put his brother down like a rabid dog, before his mad disease spreads and kills what they hold sacred."_

"_I know what that's like. Maker, do I ever."_ Varric confessed.

"_What? You mean to say you know what it's like to kill a brother?"_ Vivienne asked skeptically.

"_You're damned right I do."_ Varric answered trying to hold back his emotions. _"My older brother Bartrand went insane from red lyrium and slaughtered everyone who served and cared about him. And I had to put him out of his misery. I can talk all the shit I want about my brother because I know the kind of man he was, and everyone who knew him did, too. But Rajmael's brother was a good man and the world fucked his life up. Now Rajmael has to stop him before Nethras can fuck up the world. Except Nethras didn't go bad because of lyrium, he went this way because people drove him here, and no one else seems to give a shit about that. Just like with Hawke, Rajmael is a family man, but the world just keeps screwing his family over."_

Cassandra followed after Rajmael, she understood the pain this was causing him. After the terrible truths she learned about her own Order, learning that everything she believed they stood for had been a lie, she knew all too well.

"_I understand the pain this must be causing you, Rajmael. I loved my brother very much, and I would have given anything to see him alive again."_ Cassandra sympathized. _"I can't imagine what I would do if he suddenly came back into my life and wanted to do something so horrible."_

"_Nethras has chosen his path, and he walks it with the determination and resolve befitting a follower of Elgar'nan."_ Rajmael acknowledged. _"But his path is one of wanton, careless destruction, and if he isn't stopped he could violate and destroy everything my people hold sacred. I know my path, and what I must do."_

Rajmael gathered everyone, Sera and Vivienne kept their mouths firmly shut around him, and they made their way to the summit of the mountain where The Bull's Chargers and the Dalish Agents were waiting for them.

"_Hey, Chief! How's it going?!"_ Krem greeted his commander.

"_Krem, Dalish, Grim! How the fuck are you guys doing?!"_ Iron Bull boomed.

"Taking care of other people's bullshit, as usual, Chief." Krem laughed. _"Hey, Chief, we heard the most ridiculous story before we got here. Something about some elves…grabbing the Bull by the horns?"_ Most of the Chargers started snickering beneath their breath while Bull looked like he was blushing with embarrassment.

"_Yeah, yeah, get it out of your systems. Boss' got a plan to get some pay back against those assholes." _Bull waved off.

"_I assume you have a plan of attack, Inquisitor?"_ Solas inquired.

"_We are going to assault Nehn'numinas. And we're going to kill every member of the Vir Banal'ras who stands in our way."_ Rajmael answered with determination in his voice. _"And Nethras…is mine."_

**At the Temple of Nehn'numinas….**

Briala was shoved forward by the elven assassins further into the forest until they came to an uprupt halt. She wondered what could so important to just stop so far beyond the borders of the Emerald Graves, and then she lost her breath as she looked in awe; before them was a great temple of the Elvhen people that seemed to be wrought of faded crystal. Towards the end of each side of the temple were tall and strong towers, pointing towards the sky like longswords. The canopy that protected the inner sanctum was a great dome and guarding the entrance atop the stair were rows of snarling wolves of green stone. While tree roots and vegetion grew thick and clung to this great elven architecture. Briala was still at a loss for words at what the Dalish elves were capable of building. The Place of Joyful Tears was still awesome to behold even after centuries of abandonment. A magnificent structure that stood as testament to the glory that the elves once possessed, a glory Nethras sought to resurrect.

She didn't have long to admire the outside of the temple long though, her captors shoved her forward and the continued on. As she passed through the main hallway there tall statues of elven knight with their spears pointed downwards as if ready for combat and the walls were adorned with torches alight with veilfire. As she went further into the great temple she noticed the floors were decorated with deep long canals rushing from the center of the building. Finally they had reached the inner sanctum. And awaiting Briala and the company that lead her here were many elves, some were Dalish others, but most were city elves, and they glared at the Marquis with intense anger and hatred.

Nethras stood in the Inner Shrine and basked in its ancient glory. The floor turned into a walkway that extended over a roaring vortex of water. The sanctum was like a gigantic chasm with the temple built over it, it was large enough to house half of the Winter Palace. Standing proudly above the shrine, over the massive whirlpool, were statues of the Creators hewn from purest crystal. Elgar'nan, Mythal, Sylaise, June, Ghila'nain Dirthamen, Falon'din and even Fen'harel. Their immense size was breath taking, and their images were flawlessly captured. All the gods looked down upon this sacred room with cascading waterfalls rushing from their eyes, making it seems as though the colossal statues were weeping. That must be how this place got its name.

There was a small shrine dedicated to each of them on the floor below, beneath their feet. It was here that all the waters in Thedas converged and flowed back into the world. It was here Nethras would execute his plan against the humans. Nethras knelt before the shrine of Elgar'nan and made a small offering of blood and flowers. Then he stood and laughed triumphantly. Soon everything he had fought and killed for would come to fruition.

"_Look at this place, Marquis!"_ Nethras laughed as he took in the shrine's beauty_. "Imagine! Once all of Thedas was like this. Elves were the masters of our destiny, we commanded magic and might like no other. Then the humans came, and with them they brought disease, mortality, and later they brought the Blight. Like a plague, they destroy everything they touch than move on to destroy something else, all the while claiming to righteousness and holiness as their excuse. But today, I will cut out the disease from this world."_

"_And how do plan to do that? This temple is place is more like a place of worship than a weapon."_ Briala pointed out.

A sinister smile crept on Nethras' face. _"I'm glad you asked. The waters from this temple flow throughout all of Thedas. Water is one of the greatest necessities in the world, and after I administer Elgar'nan's Blessing to this well, the instant they put any water, anything made, soaked, or distilled by water, it will destroy. It will burn inside them like they just ingested molten led, and burn them from the inside out, until there is nothing left but a charred, hollowed out husk that used to be alive. I tested it on a few Freeman of the Dales just to make sure."_

"_You think what you're doing here is righteous? You're mad, Nethras!"_ Briala denounced. _"How can you possibly even think that this is what's best for our people?"_

Nethras looked back at her with a serious look on his tattooed face_. "I'm not mad, I'm pissed and I'm tired! Tired of seeing elves living like dogs fighting over the scraps that humans throw them, pissed that everywhere the Dalish tribes wander we are treated like vermin. I'd rather be with my daughter right now, but I can longer sit idly by and let the humans threaten her, and her future."_

"_And you think what you're doing here will make her future brighter? This could turn the whole world against us, again. Even you must realize that this can't possibly kill as many humans as you wish it could."_

"_Perhaps not, but it will kill enough of them, and they'll be too busy fighting and blaming each other, their neighbors, their brothers to focus on us, and by the time they realize it, our heels will already be on their necks."_ Nethras looked at Briala with an almost pitiable look. _"I don't expect you to understand why I'm doing this Briala. You're a servant, you've always been a servant to our oppressors, even when you were leading a shadow war against Celene and Gaspard. Now you're just a servant with benefits. I want you here to bear witness to what the price of justice and freedom truly is, and I want you to realize how weak you've always been, and how you, and Rajmael, failed our people."_

Nethras ordered his men to cart in massive casks, Briala could her something sloshing around inside them, and judging by the care with which they handled them, she knew it must have been the waters from the Temple of Elgar'nan. Elgar'nan's Blessing. Sweet Maker, he was truly going to do it.

"_When you're life is in danger, when you're feeling joyful, relieved, or desperate, Briala, whose name do you invoke? The Creators, or the Maker's?"_ Nethras asked casually. _"I already know the answer. For too long the Creators have been denied, and now Elgar'nan will have his due."_ Nethras raised his hands and began chanting in the Elvhen tongue with anticipation and ecstatic joy, he was preparing these waters to poison the well here.

"_Don't do it!"_ Briala begged desperately_. "I've read your journals, Nethras. I know you were a good man once. What was done to you was terrible, but killing You're a father, you must have been a good man once. Think of all the innocents you're condemning to a horrible death!"_

Nethras looked at Briala with twisted look of pain. _"There are no innocents, Briala. There are only oppressors, victims and potential victims. And my people have been victims for far too long!"_ Then, just as he was about to administer Elgar'nan's Blessing, there was a massive crash outside that seemed to shake the whole temple. The tremor was so powerful it almost knocked Nethras off his feet. _"What the FUCK!?"_

**Back outside Nehn'numinas….**

Just like with the Cradle of Sulevin, Rajmael knew the path to The Place of Joyful Tears. As the First of his clan, it was knowledge that was allowed to him, knowledge he was sworn to protect. He stealthily guided his companions and the handful soldiers through the dense forest and treacherous paths. They came across several of Nethras' scouts, and they were quickly subdued. Rajmael just finished snapping one of the scouts' neck in his hands. They could not let their presence be known now.

Rajmael gazed upon The Place of Joyful Tears with awe and reverence. Even after so many centuries of abandonment, it was beyond beautiful. The fact that Nethras would use this holy place as the epicenter for his revenged was beyond appalling, it was sacrilege. Rajmael could not let these sacred waters be tainted for the sake of vengeance, no matter how righteous it may seem. This needed to end now.

"_You got a plan, Boss? 'Cause those guys are dug in pretty deep, it'll be hard to just assault them with the numbers we've got."_ Iron Bull asserted.

"_And we don't know how many is there. They could have numbers against us."_ Solas added.

"_After what those stealthy bastards did to us before, I don't want to walk into another trap."_ Blackwall concurred.

"_I have a plan, one that I never thought to execute." _Rajmael answered. The Inquisitor receded back into the forest to a small clearing amongst the trees, his silvery white halla, Neirin, and Cassandra was waiting for him. _"When it starts, it's going to be big and loud, chaos and panic will be running rampant, that will be me and Neirin's key into the temple. I want you and the others to kill any of the Vir Banal'ras I leave behind and try to make your way inside."_ The Inquisitor informed urgently.

"_Wait. What's going to happen? What are you talking about?"_ Cassandra asked worriedly.

Rajmael tenderly placed his hand on his lover's face, and looked at Cassandra with all the love and affection he had for her. Cassandra lovingly pressed his hand against her face _"If for any reason I don't come out of that temple Cassandra, you are the new Inquisitor. You must lead the fight against Corypheus if I die here."_

"_No."_ Cassandra stubbornly denied. _"You're going to come out of there alive, and then you're going to continue leading this Inquisition. And we will defeat Corypheus. Together." _

Rajmael smiled warmly at Cassandra, having her support and her love gave him even more drive to succeed. The Inquisitor took his swords and planted them in the ground, then knelt as though he were praying, reciting some sort of chant in the elvhen language. No one but Solas seemed to know what he was saying.

"_Are you…praying before battle, Inquisitor?"_ Dorian asked.

"_No."_ Cole answered quietly. _"He's trying to wake them up. But they've been asleep for a long time."_

"_Them? Them who, kid?" _Varric asked curiously.

"_Instead of praying, shouldn't we be more concerned about the elven assassins that could find us?" _Vivienne urged.

"_Maybe if you people would keep you mouths shut, and find out." Rajmael suggested. "And you'll see the power of elvhen magic."_ The Inquisitor's aura ignited around him as he extended his will to the very forest surrounding him. Enasalin and Evanura ignited with veilfire while they were in the ground. And then something began to stir within the forest. The ground shook, and something groaned within the trees, as though the forest were giving a great yawn. Then the forces Rajmael summoned began to move….

"_H-hey, Chief! You remember that time we did that job in the Dales?"_ Krem asked nervously as he looked upon what Rajmael summoned.

"_Holy shit!"_ Iron Bull, Varric and Blackwall said in shocked unison. Their jaws threatening to fall off their faces.

**~XoXoXo~**

"_Hey! You know what happened to our scouts who were watching the forest?"_ One of the assassins asked.

"_I've no idea, but there's something definitely going on over there. Look at the tree line."_ Another of the Vir Banal'ras pointed. It looked as though something was rustling the canopy, and it seemed like the tree line was moving. What was going on? Then something flew right out of the treetops and into the sky with astounding speed. It was heading right towards them, what was it?

"_Holy shit!"_

"_Move!"_

Neither of them moved fast enough. By they realized what was coming at them, the boulder that was launched out of the forest and into the air had crushed them flat. The Vir Banal'ras readied themselves for whatever enemy was foolish enough to track them here. But they were not prepared for what came storming out of the forest like something out of their worst nightmares.

Nobody was a badass when they The Inquisitor charging down at them on his white halla, swords in hand, with a veritable army of pissed of sylvans at his back.

"_Forward!"_ Rajmael cried as he and Neirin charged forward to the temple. Rajmael had awoken the sylvans from the long slumber to aid him in this assault. He was finally able to apply his Keeper training to use. The sylvans would distract, scatter and weaken the Vir Banal'ras' forces and bombard them with boulders while his team would secure the temple and finish the assassins off. That would give him the opening he needed to get to the inner sanctum and stop Nethras before he could carry out his mad plan, and before their fighting destroyed this temple.

"_Move, move, move!"_ Cassandra ordered as she led the other companions against the Vir Banal'ras. The assassins had been scattered, all the sylvan Rajmael had summoned were forcing them back, but they needed to keep this distraction up if Rajmael was to succeed. This time there were no shadows, no ambushes or surprise attacks. This time the battle would be in the Inquisition's favor.

"_It's payback time, bitches!"_ Iron Bull bellowed as he charged in with his men, cleaving elves left and right with his massive axe.

Dorian, Vivienne, Varric and Sera rained explosive arrows, fire and ice down on to the battlefield, freezing, burning and sticking any and all their targets. Varric laid down a mine field around them that exploded with fire and shrapnel when the assassin tried to get to close.

Sera smashed one of her alchemical flasks one her jerkin and started firing arrows charged with electricity. _"Nya-ha! How'd ya like that, ya elfy pricks!"_

Blackwall held his ground and allowed the elven assassin to get just close enough, but they were unable to get past his defenses, and he finished them off with his mace. And Solas stood amongst the fighting giving barrier protection and healing where it was needed. So far the battle was going their way. Hopefully, these assassins would not rally back together, but in order for that to happen, to have true victory, Rajmael needed to find and defeat Nethras.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael rode Neirin to the large, wooden entry doors, and the great white halla splintered it to pieces with his powerful antlers. Inside the entrance hallways where dozens of the Vir Banal'ras standing guard, and at the end of the hall was a stairway that would lead him to the Joyful Tears. But first he'd need to get past all these assassins. Perfect.

Several assassins threw the Bora'nan at Rajmael, Neirin stood on his hind legs and caught them with his antlers then charged like there was a fire on his flank. The Inquisitor swung his swords and cast down lightning on any enemy that was close enough, while Neirin gored their enemies on his antlers and trampled them beneath his hooves when they foolishly stood in their way. Rajmael jumped of Neirin's back and drop kicked into one of the assassin's face, smashing his skull beneath his heel. Now standing, with only his halla to assist him, Rajmael engaged his enemies and showed them why Arcane Warriors were to be feared.

Rajmael instinctively activated his Shimmering Shield and held both his swords ready as eight assassins charged him down. He dashed and phased through them like a ghost. Within a split second, he dashed past all of them and completely halted their movement, making them stand like statues. Rajmael flicked their blood off his swords, and they all dropped like felled trees behind him, their blood spraying through the air and spilling on to the ground.

Several more elves simultaneously swung their chained-sickles at the Inquisitor, Rajmael cut them all down in midair with Evanura and threw an ethereal blade of veilfire at the attackers with Enasalin, cutting them all in half at the waist.

Another six tried to surround the Inquisitor, swinging their chained-sickles with the intent to impale him with the spear end of their chains. Three of them threw their spear heads at him, but Rajmael phased through the attack and dashed past them, and the spear heads instead stabbed and killed the assassins that were behind their target. Rajmael jumped over the other three and summoned a fist-shaped boulder from the Fade and launched it at his aggressors, it crushed on of them like a grape, and the exploded shards perferated the other two.

Rajmael ran up the stairs to find his brother, dismembering, disemboweling and decapitating any Vir Banal'ras that stood in his way. When he made it to the final floor, where he could sense his brother was, there were eight more elves guarding the way. These ones were different, they were all Dalish, which meant they were more highly trained than all the other ones, and they were loyal to Nethras. All of them came at the Arcane Warrior, armed with swords and spears, they would not let the Inquisitor pass. Rajmael was in no mood for any more interference. He raised both his swords in the air and conjured a vortex of fire and lightning. The vortex pulled them all in with tendril of electricity, and the very heat of the fire inside the swirling maelstrom of magic blackened their flesh, and their screams were drowned out by the sound of thunder. Within moments the magical attack turned them into burnt husks billowing out the ashes that used to be their insides.

The path to the Place of Tears was sealed off by a massive stone door with magical reinforcements. It would take at least ten men to push it open. But Rajmael was in no mood to let a door stand in his way. His swords burned brightly, and he struck the door with both blades. The friction between the magical energies of the door against the swords was so great that it caused an explosion that shook the whole floor.

**~XoXoXo~**

"_What the Fuck!?" _Nethras cursed angrily. Were they under attack?

Rajmael emerged from the hallway and into the inner sanctum where the images of his gods stood over the waters that flowed from the world and into the giant vortex below. This was where the ancient elvhen priests of all the gods would convey to bless the waters of the world with the Creators' favor.

Nethras and Briala had a look of utter shock and disbelief at the sight of the pissed off Inquisitor standing before them, with blood splattered all over his body and his swords.

Nethras was shocked, and looked as if a ghost had reappeared to haunt him "_How? How are you still alive?"_

"_Fuck you, that's how!"_ Rajmael spat with his swords drawn. "_I'm Dirth'ena Enasalin. Superior to Vir Banal'ras!"_

Nethras growled in frustration and grabbed the Sulevin and held it ready in his angry fist. _ "Keeper Deshana always said you were a pain in the ass! And I always admired you for it, but now you've turned your back on us! __Even with all the power you wield, you would still have us remain as servant to the humans. Why, Brother!?"_

"_This isn't about just elves and humans, Nethras!"_ Rajmael answered angrily. _"This is about survival! If your plan succeeds, you're only aiding the Elder One. You're not saving our people, you're damning them! And if this is the only way to get through that thick skull of yours…Ma nuvenin!"_

Rajmael lunged at Nethras with both swords, he attacked with such frenzied tenacity he actually forced Nethras to defend with Sulevin. Nethras struck back, Rajmael countered and followed with three spinning back kicks to Nethras' head. Nethras brought Sulevin down to bear on Rajmael once again, and Rajmael locked it with both his swords. With their swords locked, Rajmael manipulated both of their weapons to get stuck in the ground, then took the opportunity to grab hold of Nethras and punched him in the face with all his might.

Nethras staggered backwards from the force of Rajmael's punch, then his brother shot lightning at him from his fingertips. Nethras dodged each bolt of lightning hurled at him and darted to Rajmael, then grabbed him by the arm and should tossed him across the room. Rajmael landed on his feet, then jumped back into the air and cast down a massive fire ball. Nethras barely dodged the attack, but sent flying over to the nearby balcony. The Inquisitor ran over to Nethras before he could get back to his feet and started smashing his head into the stone floor.

"_You say you want to use the gifts our gods gave us, but you've perverted them!"_ Rajmael damned as he struck Nethras' head with each word_. "You say you to revive our glory, and restore our people, but it's not going to happen! _**_NOT LIKE THIS!_**_"_

Rajmael conjured pure magical energy into the palm of his hand and planted fist right into Nethras' chest. The force was so powerful it was like a small explosion, the floor Nethras was laying on turned into a crater.

Rajmael knew his brother was far from finished, there was still a lot left in him. He staggered back to his feet and tried to catch his breath, and he heard Nethras stirring to get back up, too. Rajmael looked down of the balcony and the battle raging on the temple floor beneath him, and felt that familiar sense of dread crushing his heart.

"_Look what you've done, Nethras!"_ Rajmael yelled as he pointed to destruction before them. "_Instead of rebuilding this place of worship for our people, you've defiled it with your need to murder! The dream of the Dalish is to revive our lost glory, not commit sacrilege against it!"_

Nethras looked down and saw his own followers, the people who believed in him being slaughtered by the forces his brother had brought with. He turned his face away in shame, but not regret.

_"Ir abelas, Rajmael. Both for what I did to you, and to this place. But I cannot stop. I've lost too much, and have gone too far to stop now. Our glory is already gone, and we'll never take back our place in the world so long as the humans rule it. This is my path. I am Vir Banal'ras, and I must take back justice for our people."_

The Inquisitor looked at his brother with deep sadness and regret. Even after Nethras almost killed him, Rajmael had hoped to steer his brother away from this path and back to their clan and Eva. But he knew now that this was impossible. His brother had chosen his path, and Rajmael knew his.

"_I am Dirth'ena Enasalin, and the Inquisitor. Our paths stand against one another. So let us leave it to the gods. No more of our people need to die."_ Rajmael said sadly.

Nethras sighed deeply, and for once listened to his brother. _"So be it. Let us leave it to the gods."_

**~XoXoXo~**

The fighting was still raging on the temple grounds. These Vir Bana'ras didn't know when to call it quits. Cassandra hoped the Rajmael would end this soon. Then, suddenly and without warning, all the sylvan ceased their attacks and began lumbering back to the woods. What was happening?

"_ENOUGH!"_ shouted the powerful voice that belonged to Nethras. And at his word, all members of the Vir Banal'ras stopped fighting. Cassandra looked towards the temple entrance and saw Rajmael and Briala standing next to Nethras. What was going on?

"_Inquisition! Cease all violence, and make your way into the temple."_ Rajmael ordered. Nethras said the same for his people.

"_Inquisitor! What is happening?"_ Cassandra asked confused.

"_Are they surrendering? Or are we?"_ Blackwall added just as confounded.

"_Yes. Does this mean they're not going to try and kill us anymore?"_ Dorian inquired.

"_I hope not. These guys put up a fucking good fight."_ Iron Bull laughed.

"_As the leaders and representatives of our chosen paths, Nethras and I have decided to let act as the will of our chosen gods. The losing side must adhere to the will of the god who has granted favor to his champion."_ Rajmael explained sadly.

"_You don't want to, but you know you have no choice."_ Cole said mirroring Rajmael's melancholy.

"_Wait. What's he on about?"_ Sera asked.

Vivienne rubbed her forehead in annoyance. _"Yes, Inquisitor. What are you talking about? More elven rituals?"_

"_To avoid any more bloodshed, Rajmael and Nethras will duel in the name of their chosen gods to determine whose cause is the most righteous. And the losers must abide by the will of the victor."_ Solas explained solemnly.

"_What? No! You cannot be serious!"_ Cassandra rejected. _"You've already fought him once, and that might have gone as you planned, but this time might be different."_

Rajmael took Cassandra's face in his hand and abruptly brought her lips to his in a gently but passionate kiss._ "Have faith in me, ma vhenan. Just as I had faith in you and Cole."_

Cassandra firmly held his hand in hers._ "I…will pray for you. Just to be certain."_

Rajmael shook his head. _"Cassandra, my god has already looked after me. You'll see."_

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael and Nethras led their respective followers back to the Inner Sanctum, the chasm where the Joyful Tears flowed. They would watch and pay witness to this dual of philosophies, and respect the outcome. And the winner would decide the fate of this temple, and the failure's followers. The Arcane Warrior and the Dalish Assassin knelt before their patron gods, and made their offerings. Rajmael bowed before Dirthamen, and Nethras to Elgar'nan.

_"Elgar'nan, All-Father, Eldest of The Sky, Lord of Vengeance."_ Nethras invoked._ "Bestow upon me your blessing one last time, give me the power to carry out your will. Grant me the strength to do what I must, even if it means killing my brother."_

_"Dirthamen, Keeper of Secrets, Twin Soul to Falon'Din, let my knowledge be true, my skill certain, and my mind clear. Grant me the secret to victory, and should the worst come to pass, let your twin soul guide me to peace." _Rajmael prayed calmly.

_"Las ar enasalin, ten las ar atishan."_ Both brothers said in unison as they finished their prayers. The two elven leaders approached one another and bowed respectfully before assuming their stances.

Nethras took the stance known as Elgar'nan's Gaze, with the Sulevin Blade held high over his head, and his feet planted firmly to the ground. It was a stance meant for powerful, destructive strikes that could slay his opponent quickly.

Rajmael held the stance known as Dirthamen's Ravens. He pointed Enasalin at his opponent, and held Evanura horizontally across his body with the blade trailing behind him. It was a very deceptive, tenacious stance meant for relentless attack or impenetrable defense, but it was nowhere nearly as powerful as Nethras' stance.

The two Dalish brothers stood off against one another, assessing each other's intent, while their followers looked on anxiously and prayed beneath their breaths. There was so much tension in the air you could hang yourself with it. Rajmael's swords burned with Veilfire, while his golden eyes burned with power, and his Shimmering Shield glimmered like starlight around him. Nethras own eyes began to light up like angry hot coals as Elgar'nan's Blessing began to burn inside of him. The two elves' auras began to burn around them like pyres, their power reaching its peak. Both of them readied to duel. To kill. To die.

Once again, Nethras struck first. He brought the Sulevin Blade down vertically with all his might, seeking to cut Rajmael in half. But Rajmael quickly, easily caught the Sulevin between both his swords like it was nothing, as if it had no power. Surprised but undeterred by the sudden lack of power from his sword, Nethras manipulated their swords to the side and planted a powerful front kick to Rajmael's chest, then spun around with his sword in a wide arc to cut the Inquisitor in half. Rajmael back flipped over Nethras' blade, and attacked in force. Rajmael hailed down a flurry of attacks with both swords so furiously that Nethras was forced to defend with the Sulevin Blade. Where did all this strength that Rajmael now possessed come from? Nethras knew he had to step up his game against his brother. Nethras' eyes began to burn more intensely, and his strength increased with it.

Both combatants moved such incredible speed, Rajmael with his dash-phasing abilities, and Nethras with Elgar'nan's Blessing coursing through his veins, that both of their followers were barely able to keep up with them with their eyes. It was like watching lightning dance with fire in the middle of a storm. Their duel kept clashing back and forth, each swordsman trying to get the upper hand on their opponent, neither one relenting before their brother's might. This was not like before at the Temple of Elgar'nan, this was either elf's duel now.

Nethras locked his sword with Rajmael's again. He could feel the duel turning in Rajmael's favor, his skill combined with his sorcery gave him a distinct edge. Nethras was not going to be stopped, least of all by Rajmael. He had gone too far, sacrificed too much, and killed too many to be stopped now. Nethras summoned all his will and made the fire burning inside him blaze even greater, his body began to burn from the inside as though a furnace were roaring inside his chest.

_"I can't afford to lose. **I WILL NOT LOSE!"**_ With Elgar'nan's Blessing blazing inside him, Nethras' attacked with vicious vigor. He would not be denied, he will win. Nethras knocked Rajmael's guard away and jammed the pommel of his sword into Rajmael's chest, knocking the wind out of him. He brought the Sulevin back down on Rajmael. Rajmael blocked the attack, but Nethras struck with such ferocity the force almost knocked Rajmael's weapons out of his hands.

Rajmael was unable to block the next three attacks, Nethras moved with too much speed and power; Rajmael could only narrowly dodge. The Arcane Warrior threw an arc of veilfire at his opponent, but the Dalish Assasssin cut down the wave of magical energy like it was paper. Nethras held his sword tightly in his grip, and the ancient writing on the Sulevin Blade began to twist and burn with life, and a dark energy enveloped the sword. Nethras swung the Sulevin and launched a sphere of condensed dark energy at his brother. Rajmael barely had enough time to set up a barrier against the projectile, but instead of bouncing off or exploding like he thought it would, the massive, crackling ball of pure energy pressed against the protective, magical shield, trying to consume its victim. Rajmael focused all his energy into reinforcing his barrier, lest it break through and kill him. Within moments the attack ran it course and exploded in a ring of pure mana so powerful it knocked everyone in the sanctum off their feet. All except the two dueling brothers.

Both the elves were reaching their limit. Elgar'nan's Blessing was consuming Nethras, and Rajmael had used up almost all his mana keeping up his barrier. But they could not stop now. Nethras lunged with Sulevin, Rajmael dodged and returned with both swords, stabbing and slashing with wide arcs and precise strikes. Nethras finally had enough of his brother's assault. They locked in the clench once more, and this time Nethras reached for the chained-sickle on his hip, and used it to lock the sword in Rajmael's right hand and ripped Enasalin from his grip. Nethras followed up with a horizontal strike, Rajmael wisely disengaged from him.

The two brothers assumed one more stance, and stared each other down. Neither one would be deterred from their resolve. They charged down one another with nothing but fury and determination in their hearts. Evanura struck against Sulevin. And the impossible happened. Evanura shattered the Sulvevin. The force of the destruction was so powerful it sent both combatants flying off their feet from each other. Both of them struggled to their feet, all their energy was practically gone, and every fiber of their bodies was screaming in pain. But they could not stop now.

Nethras looked at the ruined remains of his legendary sword with shock, how could this happen?! He looked over to Rajmael, who was struggling to his knees, and the explosion knocked his other sword out of his hand. This was it! Nethras grabbed his Bora'nan and swung the sickle end to knock Rajmael's head right off his shoulders. Elgar'nan's will be done!

Rajmael's mana was virtually gone, he could barely stagger to his feet. He was completely disarmed, and no energy left to conjure up any useful spells. Where were the Creators when he needed them? Then he saw the gods wink at him from the corner of his eye. With a single elfroot plant.

**_"ENASALIN!"_** Both elves cried as they performed their final act in this duel, their voices echoing throughout the temple.

Cassandra and the others watched in anticipation and horror. Rajmael and Nethras were both still standing still. Who won?

Rajmael's blood trickled from the wound Nethras' blade had inflicted. Rajmael blocked it with his left hand and tip of the sickle pierced right through his forearm. Nethras looked down in complete shock at his final act. Rajmael pierced Nethras' chest…with an ethereal blade that came from nothing but a single elfroot leaf between his fingers. Rajmael had won. And his god's favor was certain.

_"I forgot...you could do that…."_ Nethras smiled as blood spurted out of his mouth and collapsed the floor.

Rajmael went over to his brother but instead of crying, the two of them started laughing. Like two good brothers who hadn't seen each other in a long time.

_"How? How did you destroy the Sulevin Blade?"_ Nethras asked, coughing blood out of his mouth.

_"I'm sorry, Nethras. But I never gave you the real Shards of Sulevin to begin with."_ Rajmael answered calmly. _"I took the Shards and presented them to the Inquisition's Arcanist, and she was able to forge very convincing copies that would fit together like a puzzle. Dagna is a true wizard at the forge."_

_"Ha! Isn't that like a follower of Dirthamen. Always stacking the deck."_ Nethras laughed weakly. _"That sword you used to shatter the blade, what sword was that?"_

_"It's Evanura, the sword forged in the Temple of June, and wielded by Lindrinae in defiance of the Exalted March."_

_"The sword for which my wife was named? You found it? You reclaimed it and you even recovered the Shards of Sulevin. You've…you've regained so much for our people. I..I'm proud of you Rajmael. I've always been proud to call you my brother."_ Nethras confessed.

_"Oh, Nethras. It didn't have to be this way. We could have fought alongside each other, as Evanura would have wanted. We could have gained so much for our people as brothers."_ Rajmael lamented. _"Why? Why waste so much just for blood?"_

_"What father doesn't want to give his daughter the world?"_ Nethras answered sadly. _"Everything I did, I did it so Eva would never have to suffer like we did."_ Nethras looked over to Rajmael's companions with bitterness in his eyes. _"They'll never accept us, brother. Even now, they only see you as extension of their wretched god, and if they didn't need you, they'd cast you out for the heretic you are. Fear and blood is all they respect."_

_"I…am aware, brother. But as a priest of Dirthamen, it is my duty to enlighten with knowledge as well as protecting it. And as the Inquisitor, my job is to protect the world, and everyone in it." _

_"Hmph. The Creators have shown you favor, so maybe your path isn't as weak as I thought."_ Nethras conceded apprehensively. _"But Rajmael, you can't trust the Chantry. It will never be worth saving. They will always be against our people. Just ask Sister Nightingale."_

_"What? What are you talking about, Nethras?"_

_"Ask her…why Halamshiral's Alienage was purged. What Divine Justinia had to do with it."_ Nethras groaned. Nethras coughed more blood and could say no more. _"My time has come."_ Nethras gasped as he staggered to his feet, his blood rushing like a river from his death wound and proceeded to walk towards the crystalline statue of Elgar'nan. He extended his hand as though he were reaching out to an invisible person with sadness in his eyes_. "My only regret is…that I'll never see my daughter live our people's dream. Please forgive me…Evanura." _Nethras collapsed before the image of Elgar'nan. And this time, Rajmael knew for certain that his brother was dead.

Cassandra had never felt so sorry, or been so heartbroken for Rajmael until now. She loved Antony so much that her soul was crushed when he was murdered. Cassandra would have given anything to see him again. She couldn't imagine seeing her brother again only to kill him because he was going to do something so terrible. And even after Nethras had done such terrible things, tried to kill so many, and almost killed him, Rajmael still loved his brother, and was still so faithful to his gods. Even amongst the Chantry, Cassandra had rarely seen such devotion. Rajmael was strong, she knew that better than most, if anyone could still stand strong even after all this, he could.

Solas, turned away from the sight of the Inquisitor's tragedy. This would be yet another memory of elven loss and suffering. One that Solas did not want to remember. Just like all the greatest heroes throughout the annals of history, Rajmael has suffered more than any common man ever has.

Varric knew what it was like to kill a brother, and it was the hardest thing he ever did. And he and Bartrand were never close. Varric couldn't imagine what Rajmael was feeling right now, and he didn't want to.

Loss, self-loathing, and a horrible aching in his heart. That was what the Inquisitor was feeling right now, and Cole could feel it, too. But even feeling as he did, Rajmael was still trying to find inner peace. Cole wanted to take away Rajmael's pain, but he also knew that Rajmael wanted to keep his pain no matter what.

Dorian always wished he had a sibling. Someone he could share his suffering with back home. But in Tevinter, sibling was just another word for "competitor", and his parents didn't want their perfect heir to have a rival. They must regret that now. He may not have known what it was like to have a brother, but he does know what it's like, that feeling of betrayal and loss because one's family couldn't agree with their choices. Maker, he wished he had a drink right now.

Iron Bull had stuff like this before. Whenever he had to lead his men back in Seheron against Tal-Vashoth, there was always someone who grew up with those guys as kids. But brothers were different here, the connection was deeper. It was times like this Iron Bull was glad he grew up under the Qun.

Brother against brother. There was nothing worse as far as Blackwall was concerned. He had seen it far too often back in his old life as a soldier. Noble siblings always trying to steal what the other had, never truly caring about what brotherhood meant. But Rajmael did, and he didn't kill Nethras out of greed or envy's sake. He did it to save the lives of people who will never appreciate what he did and why. Maker's Balls, life could be cruel.

Rajmael could hear the Vir Banal'ras retreating back into the shadows and leaving the temple at the sight of their leader's death. The Inquisitor's companions all watched as he turned his Nethras over and closed his eyes. Rajmael knelt before his brother's body with tears streaming down his face, and paid homage to his gods.

_"Elgar'nan, All-Father, my brother fought and died in your name, please grant him your favor in the Beyond. Mythal, All-Mother, please forgive our transgressions against each other, for there was no malice in our duel. Falon'din, Friend of the Dead, guide Nethras' soul to our ancestor's in the Beyond. Dirthamen, Keeper of Secrets, I thank thee for granting me the Knowledge that Leads to Victory, and granting me your favor. I ask thee all Creators to watch over and guide me in my mission to restore this world."_ Rajmael tearfully bowed low before all his gods. _"But most of all I ask thee, please, grant your blessings to my stricken people."_

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael and the others went back outside the temple to find the remaining Vir Banal'ras waiting for them, but this time it didn't look like they were here for a fight. Velara approached Rajmael and bowed respectfully to the Inquisitor.

_"What will you do now, Velara? You could join the Inquisition? Be a part of the world again."_ Rajmael suggested.

_"No, we cannot, Inquisitor."_ Velara answered sadly. "_We all joined Nethras because our reasons for being a part of the world are gone. We are Vir Banal'ras, and we will return to the Temple of Elgar'nan, and whenever a crime is done against an elf, we will be there to exact Elgar'nan's vengeance."_ Velara and the others quickly disappeared into the forest like shadows, and evaporated into nothingness. Now that any and all enemies against Orlais' elves now had a new enemy to fear. The Way of Shadow endured, and was now stronger than ever. In twisted a way, Nethras' will was still being carried out.

**Back at Skyhold**

Rajmael and the others finally returned to Skyhold, and he had given his report to his advisors. All three of them stood in shock at what the Inquisitor had told them. Josephine wept at Rajmael's words while Cullen and Leliana truly felt sorry for what happened. All three of them agreed that this must be kept secret, no one else outside the Inquisition would ever know of the Vir Banal'ras' existence. If it were known that it was a cult of angry elves that were causing so much problems, it would create even more chaos. They would lay the blame at the Freeman of the Dales' feet, and no one would question it.

_"There's just one thing I want to know, before we adjourn, Leliana."_ Rajmael stated seriously. _"Before Nethras died, he told me something that just couldn't be true. He insinuated that Divine Justinia had something to do with Halamshiral's Alienage being burned. And he mentioned you by name, told me to ask you about it. Would you mind clarifying this for me?"_

_"It…it's nothing important, Your Worship. Just the unfortunate necessities of Chantry and Orlesian politics."_ Leliana evaded with guilt behind her eyes.

Rajmael looked at her with intensity in his eyes. _"I asked you, now I'm ordering you as the Lord Inquisitor to answer my fucking question. What did the Divine have to do with Empress Celene burning Halamshiral?!"_

Leliana sighed deeply and full of regret. _"I…I'm sorry to say that those were desperate times, they still are, and I regret we took the steps we thought necessary at the time. Divine Justinia was trying to broker an alliance with the Empress when tensions between the mages and Templars began to ignite. The Divine would give Celene aid against Gaspard and his conspirators, and she would add imperial support to the Chantry to stop the Mage-Templar war from happening."_ A wave of guilt went through Leliana's eyes. _"But then Halamshiral's elves began to rebel when a nobleman unjustly murdered an elven merchant, and there were rumors flying through the Empire that insinuated Celene favored the elves, and they were eroding her support. The times were desperate and we needed unity, so Divine Justinia had me relay a message to Empress Celene. Either quell this rebellion and the rumors that were destabilizing the Empire, or there would be no alliance. And after that, Celene marched on Halamshiral, and then the War of Lions started."_

The anger in Rajmael's eyes was enough to shatter his own reflection._ "You…you fucking hypocrite! You dare…?! You dare tell me how important the Chantry is to the world, despite its crimes against my people, and you were involved in one of those crimes!? How could you let either of them do that if you knew it was wrong!?"_

_"The Chantry was on the brink of collapse, we needed a strong alliance!"_ Leliana reasoned.

_"You couldn't step in and give the elves justice?!"_

_"We were concerned for the fate of an entire empire, Inquisitor!"_ Leliana argued.

_"And what's one more crime against elves when we're talking about the importance of a corrupt, decadent empire like Orlais, right?! I mean if the Chantry gets to crush elves with impunity, than everyone should get to, right?!"_ Rajmael demanded sardonically. _"Your Chantry promised the elves protection, but then allow them to be raped and murdered, fit only to serve like polite pets, then you try to tell me how important the Chantry is to keeping the world stable when it allows these crimes!? Your hypocrisy makes me sick, Leliana!"_

Leliana said nothing, and didn't avert her eyes from Rajmael's angry gaze. But the shame and guilt she was feeling was obvious.

_"Do you think me a monster, Inquisitor? That I didn't feel that the elves were justified in their rebellion, or that I didn't feel horrible for giving that ultimatum to Celene?"_ Leliana argued back ardently._ "Well, I did, and not a day goes by that I don't feel ashamed for it! But neither then nor now do I have the luxury of placing my personal feelings over what I must do. I feel for your people, I truly do, what has been done to them throughout history was evil. But I couldn't let what I feel for them interfere with my duty. Justinia was thinking of the fate of all Thedas. The Mage-Templar War was raging and Orlais was on the brink of collapsing; the elves rebelling at such a crucial time would only endanger the world even more. We did what we had to."_

Rajmael was unmoved by Leliana's words. If anything, they only served to infuriate him even further.

The Inquisitor scoffed at Leliana's words like they were a bad joke. "That's funny, Leliana. Didn't Loghain Mac Tir say same thing when his crimes were revealed, right before the Hero of Ferelden chopped his head off? Make excuses for the terrible things he did in the name of duty?"

Josephine gasped in shock and even Cullen was put off by the Inquisitor's words. Leliana finally shed her cool exterior and he anger became visible. To be compared to Loghain of all people was heinous insult she would not suffer.

_"How dare you!? I am nothing like that man! Justinia was nothing like him!"_ Leliana shouted.

_"Bullshit, Leliana!"_ Rajmael yelled back. _"Hawke was right about the Chantry. It deserved everything that's happened to it! Tell me something: if you tried to pulled this kind of crap over in Ferelden, what would Aedan Cousland have done?"_

That took Leliana by surprise. If the Divine had told her to give such an order in Ferelden, could she have done it?

_"The Hero of Ferelden would have murdered your sorry ass and the Divine's for daring to impose your will on his country, isn't that right?"_ Rajmael demanded.

Leliana remained silent, but she knew in her heart that that's exactly what Aedan would have done.

Rajmael was still not finished with his Spymaster yet.

_"Do you think that because you fought in the Blight that you know what true evil is, Leliana? You don't. Let me tell you what true evil is. It's when we choose to surrender ourselves to the things we know to be amoral and unrighteous. It's to submit to tyranny, rather than defying it! It is when people mask their ideals to cover up the corruption they hide inside."_ Rajmael's eyes began to burn hatefully as his anger began to rise. _"And that is all your Chantry has done for its whole existence! It demanded my people surrender our identity to worship your pale Maker! It ordered Mages to submit to its authority under pain of death or Tranquility! It masks itself in righteousness and holiness to cover up the rot and corruption that festered inside it! That is what evil is, Leliana! It's an evil you served loyally. And evil actions require evil people to carry them out!"_

Everyone in the War Room was stunned into silence at the Inquisitor's words. All of them, no matter what they did, never thought to question the Chantry's authority, always believing that it did what was best for Thedas. But the Mage-Templar war proved those beliefs wrong, and proved everything that men like Rajmael believed to be absolutely right.

Rajmael sighed deeply, tried to breath the anger out of his body._ "But what am I getting angry at you for, though? I've always known what the Chantry is, and nothing it has done could ever surprise me. You were just obeying the Divine's orders and doing her dirty work like an obedient servant. If Justinia was truly so benevolent, she would never have needed an agent like you, would she? And in the end, it doesn't matter. The Chantry is screwed, and Justinia is dead. Murdered in her own Conclave when she was trying to fix the problems the Chantry created. I don't know if that's cruel irony, or poetic justice."_

Leliana shot an angry glance at Rajmael._ "Do you truly need to speak of the dead so profanely?"_

_"No. But it does make me feel really good."_ Rajmael answered venomously. _"Don't you dare ever try to tell me how wonderful and important the Chantry is again, Leliana. It has committed too many crimes for me to forgive to ever want to aid it. Now get out of my sight, Leliana. I can't bare to look at you right now."_

Leliana wanted to stay right where she was. Wanted to stand her ground and fight back against the Inquisitor's words, let her voice be heard. But as angry as Leliana was, she knew that Rajmael was even angrier, and he had every right to be. The Chantry had always ignored the elves, and worse than that, the Chantry was directly responsible for the elves' suffering. The Chantry taught that the elves were an uncivilized and untrustworthy people, and erased their contributions from history. As a result, every nation in Thedas has treated elves like vermin for hundred of years because they followed the Chantry's example. Rajmael himself was a victim of the Chantry's bigotry, as evidenced by the scars on his body.

Rajmael was right about another thing: if Justinia had done this in Fereldan, there wasn't a doubt in her mind that Aedan would have moved mountains to kill the Divine, and her as well for serving her. Every time the Chantry interfered, all they did sow seeds of resentment and anger. Just like they did when they forced mages to be in Circles under pain of death. Just like they did when they destroyed the elves' second kingdom. And most recently, when they made an enemy out of Garret Hawke for what they did and did not do in Kirkwall.

Justinia tried to change the Chantry, make it the center of light and hope it was meant to be. But she didn't push hard enough. Justinia was too held back by age-old traditions and was too gentle to ever bring about true change. For centuries the Chantry made enemies of the people it wanted to control by demonizing mages, brutalizing elves, and belittling dwarves. If the Chantry was going to survive, it needed to change. Perhaps she could be the one to change it.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael made his way back to the Main Hall and sat on his damned throne. Sweet Creators, he hated living right now. What he would give to be back with his clan and with Eva instead of being here. He couldn't help but lament his tragedies. For the past three years a stranger has been buried next to first woman he ever loved. He had to kill Nethras to save the empire that has abuses their people, in the name of the faith that destroyed their people. And now, every day for the rest of my life, when looks at Eva, he to live with the fact that he was the one who actually killed her father.

But Nethras chose his path, and Rajmael stood by his, even after all the abuses he had suffered, even when he could have had revenge, he stayed true to the path he had chosen to walk. No Arcane Warrior and priest to the Creators could do any less. Even Nethras was proud of him in the end. And Rajmael would continue to stand for his people, their beliefs and what all that is meant to represent. The Chantry failed to represent Andraste and their Maker. Rajmael would not fail his gods.

_"A moment Inquisitor?"_ Josephine voiced in. _"Marquis Briala has returned to Skyhold, and wishes an audience."_

Rajmael sighed in annoyance. After seeing so much negative with elves, and the fact that the person who put her through so much crap was his brother, he doubted he was Briala's favorite person right now. _"Very well, Josephine. Bring her forward."_

Once more the Marquis approached the Inquisitor with her entourage of elven maidens, all of them wearing those ridiculous Orlesian masks.

_"Marquis Briala."_ Rajmael addressed. _"After the little escapade we've been through together, I didn't expect to see you so soon."_

_"It is that little escapade we've been through together that I am here now."_ Briala answered. _"Your Worship, I see now that both our peoples have suffered, and I may not have looked after them as well as I thought I did."_

_"What are you getting at, Marquis?"_ Rajmael asked curiously.

_"Because of the civil war, most of the Orlesian court has fled to their estates in the capital to get away from the fighting and destruction left behind by the armies."_ Briala answered. _"With the Dales under my authority, and with so much land being left empty and abandoned, I thought perhaps there would be enough room for both our people to settle, and be considered equals."_

For a moment Rajmael thought his hearing was failing. _"Are you saying that you'll...give us land to settle on? In the Dales?"_

_"That is exactly what I am saying, Inquisitor."_ Briala answered magnanimously. _"Our people have suffered enough, and been separated for too long. Perhaps now is the time for us to come together again. Perhaps now we can both fulfill out peoples dream."_

Rajmael did his best to maintain his composure. Land to settle on? In the Dales of all places? This was everything the clans dreamed of. There would be an untold amount of joy throughout all the clans. _"Ma serannas, Lethallin."_

_"Ma nuvenin, Inquisitor."_

The Marquis bowed humbly and took her leave. For the first time in a long time since he started down this path, Rajmael began to feel uplifted. After all of this tragedy he went through something great happened for his people, at last they could settle the Dales once again, and perhaps be their own nation once more. Maybe, just maybe, his dream, Nethras and Evanura's dream of Eva having land of her own would finally come true. Perhaps, after all this death and destruction, Nethras and Evanura's lives will not have been in vain, and Rajmael would continue to fight to make sure that would never happen.

However, Rajmael's feelings of accomplishment were overshadowed by a dark cloud that had was still hanging over him. Like a ghost, it had been haunting him for years now, and it was finally time to put it to rest.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael stood before a cliff in the Frostback Mountains that overlooked Skyhold. The winds whipped painfully at his face and howled in his ears while the cold bit into his bones like a hungry wolf. It was nothing compared to the agony he felt inside. For the second time in his life, Rajmael had to make a grave for his brother. The first time, he unknowingly buried a stranger next to the woman they both loved, thinking it was Nethras. Now, Rajmael would bury his adopted brother here, in this cold place, alone. Nethras' daughter and his parents should be here to send him off to the Beyond, to mourn him as he deserved and bestow the blessings of the Creators as he made his Journey, not the man who killed him.

The world was cruel to elves, it robbed them of everything, even their identity and history. It took everything that mattered to Nethras and Rajmael. It turned Nethras vicious, made him hate the world back and everyone in it who wronged their people. Despite all the crimes that Nethras had committed, all the crimes he would have committed, he was still Rajmael's brother and a hunter of Clan Lavellan. Rajmael would see to it that he received the honors he deserved.

The Inquisitor buried his brother on a cliff overlooking Skyhold and placed a small but strong vhenadhal tree over him. His pained tears stung his eyes and froze to his face as they rolled down his cheeks. He remembered all the times they shared together. Even brothers bound by blood could rarely be as close as they were. The times they hunted together, trained together. When Rajmael was Nethras' second when he married Evanura. They day he delivered Eva and placed her in Nethras' arms. He would try to hold on to the memories that made Nethras' life bright, and not the final days where his soul turned dark.

All that was left were the words.

_"Lethalin melana sahlin. Emma ir abelas. Souver'inan isala hamin. Vhenan him dor'felas. In uthenera na revas. Vir sulahn'nehn. Vir dirthera. Vir samahl la numin. Vir lath sa'vunin"_

**Language Codex:**

**Nehn'numinas:** Elven, roughly translates as _"The Place of Joyful Tears"._

**Sulevin**: Elven, translates as _"Purpose"._

**Enasalin:** Elven, translates as _"Victory"._

**Halamshivanas**: Elven, roughly translates as _"Sweet Sacrifice of Duty"._

**Bora'nan:** Elven weapon, a chained sickle with a weighted spear end. Translates as _"Flying Vengeance."_

**Vir Banal'ras:** Elven, translates as _"The Way of Shadow"._

**Dirth'ena Enasalin:** Elven, roughly translates as _"Knowledge That Leads to Victory"._

**Las ar enasalin, ten las ar atishan: **Elven prayer, roughly translates as _"Grant me victory, or grant me peace."_

**Author's Note:**

Okay! The Way of Shadow Arc is complete. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it, a lot of personal free time went in to writing it. All work done in this story is completely fictional and written for the enjoyment of Dragon Age fans everywhere. Dragon Age and all associated characters and concepts associated with it are the property of the BioWare Gaming Corporation. Please review and tell me what you think.


	21. The Hunt For The Red Templars

**The Hunt for the Red Templars**

The Inquisitor and his Advisors were conveying in the War Room going over some of their operations and missions. Leliana's people were handling a possible Venatori agent infiltrating King Markus' court in Nevarra. Cullen's forces were successful in recruiting more volunteers from all over Orlais, Ferelden and even the Free Marches. And right now Josephine was looking over their latest political assistance with relations between Ferelden and Orlais. Earlier this week King Alistair asked for their assistance in mediating a peace talk he was having with Empress Celene.

_"We might as well begin with some good news."_ Started Josephine. _"The peace talks between Orlais and Ferelden was long and tedious but in the end a complete success."_

_"Hooray."_ Rajmael praised sardonically.

_"Both King Alistair and Empress Celene have signed a peace agreement and both have offered a small fortune to aid the Inquisition and this to specifically as thanks."_

One of Josephine's aids brought a great sword of magnificent make, Rajmael took it in his hands and gave it a few practice swings. Incredible! Despite being as long as a man was tall it was as light as a feather, and its sharpness, when swung in the air you can hear it cut the air itself.

_"This weapon is remarkable!"_ Rajmael praised.

_"Yes."_ Josephine confirmed. _"It's called the Summer Sword. It was forged by Vercenne of Halamshiral, who is arguably the greatest smith the empire ever produced."_

_"I recognize that blade."_ Leliana informed. _"It was originally used by Teryn Loghain's lieutenant, Ser Cauthrien. She relinquished it when she was banished."_

_"Yes, and King Alistair meant to return to Empress Celene as a show respect and both monarchs thought it appropriate for you to have it, Your Worship."_ Josephine finished.

Rajmael had the weapon sent to their armory and decided to continue the meeting.

This time it was Leliana's turn to speak._ "We've received this message from Prince Sebastian Vael of Starkhaven."_

_"Oh?"_ Rajmael knew the prince was a former companion of the Champion of Kirkwall's but little else. _"What does he want?"_

_"He wants our aid in driving the Maleficarum out the city and then he plans to annex Kirkwall so as to restore order."_

_"Oh. Well, that's bullshit."_ A new voice entered. _"If he want's to actually help Kirkwall, then I'll actually go and join a cloister."_

The newcomer was a roguishly attractive woman of obvious Rivaini origins judging from her dusky skin and pierced stud on her chin. She wore a blouse that shamelessly showed off her generous clevage while being held up by her tightnitted corset. She wore a blue sailors coat with her neck being adorned by a golden choker that had golen coins slinging down from it. Strapped to her back was two slender daggers with two small crossbows strapped to her curvacious hips that made Rajmael think of Bianca.

_"Inquisitor Lavellan."_ Cullen started, clearing his throat. _"May I present Captain Isabela?"_

_"It's actually Admiral Isabela, handsome."_ The pirate winked at Cullen.

_"Uh, Admiral Isabela. I brought her here for this meeting to get her imput."_

Wow! This was Isabela? The Queen of Eastern Seas and Sharpest Blade in Llomeryn? One of the infamous lovers of the Champion of Kirkwall that he fought and killed the Arishok for? Rajmael could defintely see the appeal. He had heard that Leliana had been employing her as a free agent for the Inquisition but he never met her.

_"Prince Sebastian is waging war on Kirkwall and trying to kill anyone who was ever associated with Anders."_ The pirate queen explained.

_"What? Why?"_ asked Josephine.

Isabela shrugged. _"I guess he's still sore that Hawke didn't kill Anders and is taking out on the city itself. Look, if you want to help Kirkwall send your forces to help Guard Captain Aveline. She's been fighting tirelessly to keep the city safe, and now they're almost spent trying to keep the city free. Not that I'll ever say that to her face."_

_"How do you know this?"_ asked Morrigan.

_"Because I've been using up all of my favors and influence to smuggle supplies and weapons to the Kirkwall Guard so that they can keep figthing, and unlike the Inquisition I don't have the backing of nations to keep doing it."_ Isabella explained.

Rajmael and his whole council took a moment to contemplate their next move while Isabela excused herself to try and catch up with Varric.

_"We could send peace envoys to try and negotiate a truce between the two cities."_

_"That's never going to happen."_ Cullen smacked down. _"Sebastian is too zealous and Aveline is too stubborn."_

_"It would behoove the Inquisition to keep strong ties to Starkhaven."_ Explained Leliana._ "Starkhaven is still the wealthiest and most powerful of the free cities and keep the all of our southern forces fed."_

_"It would also behoove the Inquisition to show the world that we stand against tyranny."_ Cullen argued._ "The prince is only doing this to have revenge on Anders even if it costs innocents their lives. The citizens of Kirkwall have withstood invasion before and they're not going to accept annexation now."_

_"Who would you rather aid, Inquisitor?"_ Isabella asked._ "The Prince who only sees the city as far as the Chantry allowed him, or the Guard Captain who has dedicated herself to keeping the city and the citizens safe?"_

Rajmael paused for a moment. _"Cullen send your forces to aid Captain Aveline, make sure they drive Starkhaven out."_

_"At once your worship."_ Cullen confirmed.

_"Josephine I need you to take a note to Prince Sebastian for me."_

_"Of course, your grace."_ Josephine said getting her quill ready.

_"Dear Prince Sebastian Vael of Starkhaven…go fuck yourself. Sincerely and emphatically, Inquisitor Rajmael Lavellan, Lord of the New Inquisition."_

_"Um…eloquently put, Your Worship."_ Josephine said finishing the letter.

_"Anything else?"_ Rajmael continued.

_"Yes."_ Cullen answered. _"We've finally tracked down were the Freemen of the Dales were sending all of the refugees."_

Rajmael had almost forgotten that. Back in the Emerald Graves the Freemen were acting on behalf of the Red Templars in harassing fleeing refugees and sending them of somewhere. _"What have you discovered?"_

_"Apparently the Red Templars are quarrying their lyrium out of Sharnia in the Emprise du Lion."_

_"Emprise du Lion."_ Rajmael acknowleged.

_"That place was once the sight of a mighty elven fortress, now it acts as a colossus casting a shadow over the small village of Sahrnia."_ Josephine explained. _"Corypheus' forces are scouring the south ancient elven ruins, do you think their might be something there?"_

_"We can't know for sure."_ Cullen continued. _"But it's where Samson and his Red Templars are getting all of their Lyrium. If we can destroy their lyirum supply Corypheus' forces will suffer a terrible blow."_

_"I'll take my group over to Sahrnia and see what we can do."_ Rajmael replied. It was bad enough that Corypheus was using an ancient artifact of the Elvhen now the Red Templars were occupying what was once a proud Dalish base. Well, now it's time to clean house.

**Meanwhile, at the Tavern**

It had been a while since Varric and the Rivaini sat together for a drink in a tavern and catching up was so much fun, but Varric also knew that Isabela was doing some shady stuff for the Nightingale and couldn't reveal too much.

_"So, tell me, Varric."_ Isabela started after taking a large swig of whisky. Varric knew that ment she was concerned. _"I…heard that Hawke was here not too long ago and I just wanted to know…was he alright?"_

Yeah, being emotional was never one of Isabela's strengths. _"He's okay, Rivaini. Trust me. He's out there right now trying to fix the world."_

_"Of course he is."_ Isabela sighed sadly. _"That's what made him the Champion after all."_

Ah, great. Now it was Varric's turn to console Isabela. Shit. _"You, uh, you alright, Rivaini?"_

_"I'm _fine_." _Isabela defended_. "It's Hawke I'm worried about. He's always going off and trying to save everyone rather than relaxing and enjoying himself. There are sometimes Merrill and I are frightened that we'll never see him again."_

_"Come on, Rivaini. This is Hawke were talking about here!"_ Varric reminded. _"He's been to the Deep Roads and the Fade for Andraste's sake! And he's killed the freak that made the huge asshole in the sky, so killing him again should be no problem for our favorite Champion. What more can the world throw at him that he can't handle?"_

Isabela gave a relieved chuckle. _"Well, when you put it like that."_

_"Don't worry, Rivaini."_ Varric said while putting a reassuring hand on her arm. _"Hawke will make it though this, and you, he and Daisy will get your fairy tale ending."_

_"Hey, Varric!"_ Iron Bull bellowed. _"Let's go! The Boss has got more people to kill!"_

_"Uh, sorry Rivaini. Gotta go."_

_"Be sure to have Bianca shoot those Red Templars between the eyes for me!"_ The sultry pirate called back.

_"Every shot will be for you!"_

**~XoXoXo~**

The village of Sahrnia was on the easternmost of Orlais' borders right next to the Frostback Mountains. The Suledin Fortress that overlooked the small on the mountainside was once a base of operations for the Emerald Knights of the Dales, built on the site of a Tevinter ritual tower now occupied by the Red Templars.

Winter had come early here, and the snows had already blanketed the whole region. The journey here had been a new a difficult experience for some of the Inquisitor's companions, particularly Dorian and Iron Bull as they were from places with much hotter climates. Though the former Ben-Hassrath wouldn't be so cold if he would put on a shirt instead of exposing his pecs for all of the world to see. Vivienne still refused to wear anything other than the current Orlesian fashion despite the impracticality, and did her best to ignore the frigid temperature. Cole seemed hypnotized by the falling snowflakes while Varric did his best to struggle through the snow, being vertically challenged made it horribly difficult.

Cassandra was most impressed with how Rajmael carried himself. Despite wearing nothing but his Keeper Robe and being barefoot, the extreme cold seemed to have no effect on the elven mage. And as he walked he barely left any footprints in the snow. Whereas they struggled, he continued to walk with a certain poise and grace that could only be found amongst the Dalish elves.

Scout Harding had told Rajmael that ever since Sahrnia's river had froze the town had gone straight to shit, and as usual, she was right. It was a modest village that made it's living doing trade up and down the river throughout the Empire, but now half the town was destroyed due to bad weather, the presence of demons and Red Templar activity. A town like this would usually be in a constant state of struggle considering it was cold all year round but now that they are in the dead of winter and with no supplies and equipment Rajmael was surprised that they few still here were still alive.

_"Excuse me?"_ Ramael asked the nearest villager. _"I'm looking for Madame Poulin."_

_"That's her there, messere."_ The vilager answered in a raspy voice indicating thirst.

The town mayor was surrounded in a small circle of old folks, women and children around a firepit boiling what was the closest thing these poor souls had as stew.

_"Madame Poulin?"_ Rajmael called.

_"Ah. Yes. You must be the Inquisition."_ The noble addressed. _"Please, wait for me in my home just over there."_

For a noblewoman she lived in a very ramshacked hut. Rajmael found it colder inside then it was outside.

_"I can only assume that you are the Herald of Andraste."_ Madame Poulin announced as she entered.

_"How can you tell?"_ Rajmael grinned.

_"I've only heard of one Dalish elf who commands forces strong enough to shake kingdoms."_ Poulin returned.

_"That's not going to be a problem is it?"_

_"You can be an old bronto for all I care, so long as you help us."_ Poulin pleaded.

Rajmael took a moment to inspect the Madame. She was in her later years, mid to late forties. Like most Orlesian, nobles she was well-dressed, but even in fancy finery her outfit screamed her situation. She was wearing heavy furs that were faded and worn from over use and most likely was the only coat she owned.

_"How long have the Red Templars been plaguing you?"_ Asked Cassandra.

_"For months, because of the Civil War, trade with our town had come to a halt. For the past year we have only been scraping by with what we have and now with the river frozen we have no way of getting out asking for assistance."_ Poulin explained.

_"So were do the Red Templars fit into all of this?"_ Varric added.

_"Months ago the Templars came here and offered to buy my family's quarry, and, fool that I am, I sold it to them."_

_"You let those Red Freaks in here, jeez that's stupid."_ Sera criticized.

_"I didn't know what they were at the time."_ The madame defended. _"I thought they were knights, chevaliers! We needed food and supplies and they gave us just that in return for mining the quarry, but then they came and started demanding the villagers to come and work for them. We tried to refusing the Templars they came and took our people anyway. We are enslaved by the Templars, besieged by demons and in the middle of winter. Please, can the Inquisition help us?"_

Wow. Now these were certainly desperate people. Was this why the Freeman were shipping people here? To work a quarry? Rajmael didn't think this was the full story, the Templars wanted the people for something more than slave labor and he needed to find out.

_"Of course we'll help."_ Cassandra answered for him. _"But fist we need to…."_

_"Madame! Madame!"_ a young boy barged in yelling. _"They're back again!"_

_"Wait. What?"_ Dorian sputtered. _"Whose back? The Templars?"_

_"No! The Demons!"_ The boy cried out. _"Lots of them!"_

Rajmael and his company all rushed outside and sure enough there was a large group of Shades making their way to Sahrnia.

_"Quick!"_ Called Poulin. _"Get inside the Chantry immediately!"_

_"Let's go!"_ Rajmael barked.

The Inquisitor and his team made it to the front gates of the village where someone else was already taking the fight to the Demons. He fought with incredible speed and accuaracy using his sword as an extention of his arm and dodging and countering fell creatures' attacks with the fluid movements of a dancer and the discipline of a soldier. Obviously, this man was a master swordsman. However, he was tiring quickly.

_"Inquisition!"_ the man called out. _"I could use your assisstance."_

The Inquisition joined the fray attacking with steel, magic and arrows. Killing demons wasn't a new experience for any of them, thought Sera still acted like a scared kitten, but something this batch was a bit harder to dispense. Somehow these demons acted with more…discipline, coordination as if the were being commanded.

After sending the last demon back to the Beyond the swordsmen who had been the first to the fighting approached them. He was clad in a breast plate adorned with a golden lion head on a purple background. His armor was once finely detailed, but now it was worn down while his sword was chipped and almost dull. And his hygeine was no better, his starberry blonde hair was long, past his neck and to the small of his back while his poorly grown beard was disheveled and wild. Obvioulsy this man was a highly trained knight fallen on hard times.

_"Well fought, messere."_ The knight commended. _"My name is Ser Michel de Chevin."_

_"Michel de Chevin?"_ Vivienne asked incredously. _"Empress Celene's former champion? My, you have fallen low, indeed."_

_"Wait, who's this guy?"_ The Inquisitor asked.

_"He was once a highly ranked chevalier, and former champion and bodyguard to Empress Celene herself."_ Cassandra explained._ "The official story is he because he betrayed Celene to Gaspard."_

_"That's putting it simply."_ Michel stated._ "In short I chose my personel honor over my Empress, and it led to my disgrace. But despite all, I still have a strong arm and a stout heart. That and what you see on my back."_

Rajmael never liked the Chevaliers. Point in fact, he hated Chevaliers. Pompous bodyguards that wore honor as an accessory and threw it away when it was no longer in style. And he especially despised their initiation right where they snuck in to an Alienage to "test" their blades on elves out past curfew. That was the main reason he unceremoniously split Duke Gaspard's skull in half, but right now Rajmael had to focus on the demons and the templars.

_"Are you protecting the village?"_ Cole asked innocently.

_"Yes. Though that was not my orginal intention."_ The former chevalier informed. _"Two years ago I accidently unleashed a very powerful demon calling itself Imshael."_

_"Imshael?"_ Solas inquired. _"This is very bad, Inquisitor, Imshael is one of the Forbidden Ones."_

_"Forbidden Ones?"_ Varric lit up. _"Aw, shit. Hey, I never told anyone this, but back in Kirkwall, Hawke and I tracked down these Forbidden Tomes with evil magic, they led us to this demon called Xeben…whatever…and it claimed to be one of the Forbidden Ones."_

This could be _very_ bad. The Forbidden Ones were four of the most powerful demons in all of existence. Imshael, Xebenkeck, Gaxkang and the last known as the Formless One. From what little Circle of Magi scholars could learn these four were believed to older than the darkspawn and the Tevinter Imperium, some have even theroized that they were the ones who taught the ancient magisters blood magic.

_"Yes, you noticed how those demon seemed to act in military formation, this demon is the reason why. It is far more cunning and acts with more guile than anything I have encountered and I've played the game in Val Royeaux. Since my disgrace I've dedicated myself to killing the creature to atone for releasing it."_

Rajmael didn't like this._ "We came here in pursuit of the Red Templars that have been kidnapping people and, as far as we know, this place is the source of their lyrium. And now there is a very powerful demon here. None of this can be happenstance."_

_"Can he help us?"_ Cole asked innocently. _"He hurts and wants to do good. He can help us."_

_"Do you know if this Imshael is assisting the Red Templars?"_ Cassandra asked.

_"I wouldn't put it past the creature."_ Michel replied. _"I've only arrived here about a month ago, tracking it down to the Suledin Fortress. From what I have gathered your Red Templars are there as well using the people there as slave labor."_

_"If you know that why haven't you done anything about them?"_ Sera balked rudely.

_"Done what?"_ Michel defended. _"I am only one man with a rusty sword and I'm trying to hunt a very powerful demon and defend what's left of these people from Templars and Demons. I have been doing all I can to help these people but I still have to kill Imshael so it won't harm anyone else."_

_"Some help you is."_ Sere continued to chide._ "You're the one who released the damn thing to begin with, you're probably going to make things worse..."_

_"Sera, shut up."_ Rajmael commanded.

Sera gave huff, crossing her arms and obeying the Inquisitor.

_"Perhaps we can help each other, me and my company need to end the Templar presence here and find out what they are planning next, but we also have to make sure Imshael doesn't threaten anyone else."_

_"Believe me, I would give my life to defeat that monstrosity, but I'm the only one defending Sarhnia and I will not abandon them to the demons."_

_"The Inquisitions Forces will guard the village."_ Rajmael assured. _"We'll be able to defeat both of our enemies if we work together."_

The knight nodded in agreement. _"Then we have an accord. I swear, I will die if I must to defeat this creature, so that he never harms another soul ever again."_

_"It would probably be best if we split up."_ Cassandra suggested. _"Keep their attention and forced divided."_

_"Me and my company have to head to quarry and try to free all of the people the Red Templars have enslaved."_ Rajmael instructed to Ser Michel. "_We'll meet you at the Sulevin Fortress after that and rid the world of this demon."_

_"Very well."_ Michel agreed. _"I will see you all there. Hopefully."_

The Inquisitor and his companions parted from the chevalier but Rajmael looked back to make sure the knight was going were he said he was going. He didn't trust Ser Michel. Because of the example Gaspard had set, chevalier honor seemed practically worthless, and the fact that Michel betrayed his empress for his personal honor made his word all the more questionable, so he approached their friendly ghost to get his impression.

_"Cole?"_ Rajmael addressed.

_"Yes, Rajmael?"_ Cole replied.

_"That knight, what could you sense about him?"_

_"He is filled with guilt, regret, dishonor and shame all at once."_ Cole answered.

_"Hm, sound like extramarital sex to me."_ Dorian joked

_"He has hurt in him, but not the kind I'm used to helping."_

_"What do you mean?"_ Rajmael asked.

_"So its true, the Herald of Andraste is a Dalish elf."_ Cole answered cryptically. He was speaking through Michel's point of view. _"The Chantry must love that a heathen is their savior, yet it seems like the Maker's joke that he should save me today. I've done many wrongs to our own people, it shames me that the Inquisitor and I share the same blood."_

_"Share the same blood? What does that…?"_ Rajmael let his question linger for a moment before looking back angrily in the direction Michel had left in. _"That…son of a BITCH!"_

**The Sarhnia Quarry….**

Rajmael and his companion split into three groups so as to cover more ground, kill more Red Templars and save more of the kidnapped villagers. The Inquisitor took Cassandra, Varric and Cole, while Blackwall led Sera and Solas, and Vivienne took Iron Bull and Dorian. They would split and take the quarry in different directions, and throw the Red Templars off balance with their divided attack.

Rajmael had not seen so much red lyrium in one place since he and Dorian went to that dark future where it had corrupted the whole world. Sweet Creators, it was springing up from the ground like some kind of giant root, they were even hauling whole pillars of this stuff out of here. How could they have so much of it out of the Deep Roads?

The Red Templars infested this place like maggots in a dead carcass, festering in their own filth and forcing the villagers to harvest the heinous red lyrium for them. There were more Knights, Shadows, Horrors and even Behemoths here than in the attack on Haven, proof positive of its importance to Samson and his cause. The citizens of Sahrnia were slaving away and the wasting away, wearing nothing but the ragged remnants of their cloths or sack clothes in this miserable cold. Some of the villagers were chained and held in cages. Why? These people were simple farmers and laborers, not warriors. What possible threat could they pose?

Rajmael and his companions attacked their designated quadrants with certainty and precision. Rajmael heard the sounds of battle, death and destruction echoing throughout the quarry and knew his companions were advancing, and elimaninating their adversaries.

Cassandra used her Seeker powers to purge the lyrium from the Templar Knight surrounding them. The red crystals shattered like a glass off their bodies and revealed the wet muscle, sinew and bone laid bare. The Templars fell to the ground in writhing agony, blood seeping from skinless wounds and into the snow as they died screaming.

Varric found himself surrounded on all sides by Templars, all of them wanting to chop the beardless dwarf into pieces. Good. Varric had been meaning to test out a new toy he made for Bianca that he'd been tinkering with for the past few months. Now was the best time. He had Bianca launch a metallic sphere into the air, the sphere opened and dozens of razor sharp shard of poisoned shrapnel exploded from it and perforated all the Templars' armor and ripped apart the flesh and bone beneath. Varric looked at his new toy with a satisfied smile.

Rajmael stood before three dangerous Templars; a Shadow, a Guard and a Behemoth, the red lyrium they consumed enhanced their powers and disfigured them into crystalline monstrosities. The Shadow had blade of red lyrium extending out of its wrists like extending over its hands like long red daggers. The Guard pounded his tall towershield with a sword made completely of Red Lyrium, confident in his invulnerability behind his shield. The Behemoth was half the size of a giant, and almost as ugly. What was once a man was now completely made of Red Lyrium on dispraportionatley short legs, and grossly long arms, one of them encased in a crude ball of red lyrium like a mace.

The Shadow disappeared in a puff of smoke, completeling camoflaging itself with its surroundings. It would seek to flank the Inquisitor and plunge its wrist-daggers in his blindspot of opening. But Rajmael could sense the profane red lyrium that made up the Shadow's being. It did not matter to Rajmael. Just as the Shadow lunged out of nowhere, and its wrist-blades shattered like they were made of brittle ice against The Inquisitor's Arcane Shield. Rajmael used a Mind Blast of psychic energy that hurled the Shadow towards the Guard, slamming it against its comrade's tower shield. Rajmael raised his sword and cast down a powerful lightning bolt that conducted in their armor, shattering the lyrium grafted to their bodies and cooking their internal organs. After a moment of screaming, the two red templars exploded in a mess of red crystals, red blood, and singed guts.

The Behemoth roared in a voice that sounded like a rockslide, and swung its maul-like fist at the Inquisitor with all the grace and precision of a drunken bronto. Rajmael easily evaded the powerful but uncoordinated attack. The Behemoth reared back its heavy weapon-like limb back at Rajmael, but this time Rajmael stood firm and used his sword burning with veilfire to but the abominable templar's giant hand off right at the wrist. The Behemoth staggered back groaning in pain clutching the stump where his hand-turned-weapon used to be. As it opened its mouth to scream, Rajmael's sword flew straight into the Behemoth's maw, its blade stick out of the back of the creature's head. The still burning veilfire on the blade and its purifying magic disolved the Behemoth's crystalline skull like a wet cube of sugar. Its massive body fell with a thud and shattered the rest of it corrupted body.

Rajmael picked up his sword and wiped the foul, tainted blood off Enasalin's blade. The sounds of combat and echoes of death throughout the quarry had ceased. It was a safe assumption that the rest of his companions were successful and the rest of the templars here were dead. Cassandra and Varric set to work freeing the enslaved citizens of Sarhnia from their bonds.

_"Please! You must let us out of here!"_ One of the villagers locked in the cages begged. _"They'll turn us into one of those…things! And harvest us!"_

Rajmael looked in horror and saw several petrified villagers completely encased in a coffin of red lyrium, just like Fiona back in that future he saw in Redcliffe. Their faces frozen in twisted pain and suffering as the lyrium spread through their bodies and consumed them like a ravenous disease until all that was left was a pillar of solid lyrium that used to be a living person. Rajmael remembered the horrible agony Fiona was in when he saw her suffer this fate.

Rajmael's ear perked and twitched when he heard the sound of a pained whimper, a sound that was all too familiar to him. As the villagers ran out of the quarry, Rajmael ran to where he heard that voice.

The others made their way over to them, and Cassandra noticed Rajmael running further into the quarry. All the templars were dead, and the villagers saved, why was he running? Cassandra motioned the others to follow her and they all chased after him. They found Rajmael further down quarry kneeling in the snow, but he wasn't alone. He was kneeling over the body of a young elven girl, holding her hand as tears of pain went down her face. Cassandra could see the infection of red lyrium glowing in her eyes and in her veins. The girl was dying.

Rajmael felt a dagger plunge into his chest and break heart as he held the little girl's hand in his. She was so young, no older than Eva. She was too weak to even hold his hand and was whimpering in terrible pain. Rajmael tried to elveate her pain with healing magic, but it was no use: the lyrium was consuming her, and it would keep going until it completely devoured and killed her. Rajmael could not let this child suffer that fate.

_"You…you're Dalish? My mama used to…tell me stories about you. She told me…you remember what it's like to be elven."_ The girl said weakly.

_"That's me, da'len. But you're just as elven as I am."_ Rajmael said assuringly, trying to comfort the child. _"What's your name?"_

_"Lina."_ The little one tried so hard to talk through the pain._ "The templars took me and my parents, said…that we were to serve the Elder One. One of the men hear said that the Maker would protect us, but He never came. Even when they killed my mama and papa."_

Rajmael could almost see his eight year old self and Eva in this child's eyes. No child should have to suffer like this. _"Those…men, and the demon who sent them, will never hurt you or anyone else. I promise."_

_"It…it hurts…."_ Lina sobbed. _"It…hurts so much."_

_"Shhh. I know, da'len, I know. But I…I'm going to stop the hurting."_ Rajmael promised. Sweet Creators, his heart was aching at what he had to do. He hated himself for it, but he had no choice. He couldn't let her suffer this fate. So...he reached for an elfroot leaf.

Cassandra's soul was a torrent of rage and sorrow. She could sense Rajmael's pain. As an adopted father, Cassandra could not fathom the hurt Rajmael must be feeling at the sight of this girl's suffering. How could these men do this to all these people? To this child? She was still just a baby! These Templars swore holy oaths to serve the Maker, and they go and do something as vile and evil as this. They would pay for this.

Aw, shit. Varric recognized that look on Rajmael's face. It was the same look Hawke had on his face when that bastard Quentin murdered Leandra and desecrated her body. And just like Hawke, Rajmael tried to keep a strong face, tried to hide what was going on inside, but Varric knew this was hurting something bad inside. Shit, it was hurting Varric inside.

In any war or conflict, the hardest thing to see is what happens to the children, no matter which side. Blackwall knew this all too well. It doesn't matter which side in a war was right or wrong, who wins or loses, it was always the children who suffered most. If they were lucky, all they lost was a parent. Then there were those left to starve, or those, like this girl, who were victims of one side's cruelty.

This was the part of his job Iron Bull hated the most when he was with the Ben-Hessrath: seeing the sick shit that bastards like this do to kids. He'd seen it all, Vints burning down whole dormitories so they don't grow up to be soldiers, Tal-Vashoth kidnapping and murdering a couple of young ones just to piss off their old Tamassrans. Poisoning food and water supply was one that stuck with him. But this? Using a kid like some kind of farm to grow lyrim like a flower pot? That was beyond sick. These guys needed to die.

After what he saw in that future in Redcliffe, Dorian thought he'd be prepared for whatever horror this wretched lyrium had. But he was so very wrong. He never anticipated anything like this. He could not help but feel that terrible, unwelcome sense of guilt starting to scratch the back of his mind. Not because this was all being done in the name of a magister, no. But because despite how appalled he was, nothing he was seeing here surprised him. Back in the Imperium, this sort of thing was not only heard of, it was actually common place. Back home, it was an unspoken rule that every noble would at least know the basics of bloodmagic in order to get an edge over his rivals. They would even hold soirees and sacrifice slaves, adults and children alike, in blood rituals just to impress and intimidate their peers. Dorian felt ashamed, not because this was done for a Blighted madman from Tevinter, but because his country set the standard for every horrid abuse, crime and act of terror ever inflicted on another living being.

Arse-hole, shit-suckin', Venatori dick-faces! She wanted to look away, but this was one of things that was so awful you couldn't take your eyes away. Sera had seen pricks, like Chevaliers, do some shit things to people, but this was the worst. This was like the worst thing anyone could do to anyone. Sera hoped the Inquisitor was gonna get some payback for these people, 'cause she's gonna shove every arrow she's got so far up their arse-holes they're gonna choke on the arrowheads.

Vivienne was completely repulsed by the vile actions these Templars have committed. Once they were the best and only tool to fight against maleficarum and evil, but now they were the very evil they were supposed to fight against. How could they have allowed themselves to have fallen so far? They couldn't all have been this weak. Vivienne could see how this was affecting the Inquisitor, and knew the action he would have to take. She hoped Rajmael would finally have the strength to do what was necessary, even if it was hard.

Solas knew that death, heartbreak and sorrow was a very familiar fact of life. It was something all elves knew. But this? This was beyond unfair. This child's life was destroyed before it even began, and being a parent figure, Rajmael felt the pain of this the most. Solas had seen a great many despicable acts reenacted by the spirits of the Fade, but it was always more profound, more intense seeing it happen to in real life, to a real person. Especially one so innocent. And what Solas had discovered would likely not improve the situation. Point in fact, it would only enrage him.

Pain, hurting, agony. All coursing through her veins and in her skin. Cole was shedding the same tears Lina was crying; he could feel all the pain she felt. It wasn't fair. The priests always said the Maker always protected his children, but He never showed up, even when the Templars killed Mama and Papa. I'll never know what it's like to grow up, have my first kiss, or have children of my own. It's not fair.

_"W-what...what do the Dalish say happens...when you die?"_ The brave little elf asked with fear in her voice.

Rajmael kept a strong, gentle façade for the girl. _"When we die, our souls are guided by Falon'din past the Beyond to be with our ancestors, our families for the rest of eternity."_

_"That...doesn't sound so bad. Will my mama and papa be there?"_

_"Yes. And no one will ever harm you, or take you from them again, Lina."_ Rajmael promised.

The girl's lips trembled and tears of pain and fear streamed down her cheeks._ "Does...d-does it hurt? Does it hurt to die?"_

Rajmael squeezed her hand gently to assure her, and looked at her with gentle promise in his golden eyes. _"It will be like going to sleep, a long peaceful sleep. And when you wake up, Falon'din will be there, and he'll take you to your parents."_

_"Will I have bad dreams?"_

_"No. No more bad dreams, or bad men. Just peace. Would you like me to say the prayer?"_

_"I...I would r-really like that."_ Lina smiled.

_"Falon'din, Lethanavir, Friend of the Dead, guide her feet, and calm her soul. Lead her to rest, and let her join her family, and our ancestors in the Beyond. Falon'din Enansal."_ Rajmael placed his hand over Lina's face. _"Now go to sleep, da'len. And when you wake up, everything will be all better."_

_"Okay. Goodnight..."_ Lina bravely closed her eyes and tried to sleep. Rajmael placed the elfroot over her heart...and conjured his ethereal blade from between his fingertips. Lina's death was quick, and she suffered no longer. Rajmael rose from the snow and bowed his head in respect to Lina; he would make sure she received proper burial when this was done, she deserved at least that much.

_"Inquisitor...I think you need to see this."_ Solas handed Rajmael a set of reports and papers he had found throughout the quarry.

Rajmael's face was as still and cold as stone, but his golden eyes were burning with rage. Apparently, Mistress Poulin had willingly sold these people to the Red Templars to work the quarry in exchange for money and supplies. She sold her people like cattle to be used as fertilizer for red lyrium. And what's more, these notes were written instructions made by Samson's hand that relayed his orders and the purpose for what his men were to do here. Samson ordered that these people be turned into red lyrium and harvested like coal...to be used as raw material for his personal armor. This could not go on.

The Inquisitor crumpled the order's in his fist and turned to address his comrades. _"This is no longer a rescue mission. We are now here to destroy any and all existence of the Red Templars in the Emprise du Lion. No one but us is to leave Suledin Keep alive."_

**In The Suledin Keep**

Blood was splattered all over the Keep's walls, and severed arms, head and dismembered bodies littered the floor of the ruins and blood was now staining the snow. Rajmael and his companion had caught up with Ser Michel, and together they laid waist to any and all Red Templars that stood in their path. Steel carved and crushed their flesh, while offensive magic rained down on them, setting them ablaze, freezing them and making them explode into a fountain of blood, bones and organ. Soon the ruins of the Suledin Keep were turned into a killing field riddled with the dead and the dying.

The ground shook like an earthquake and the air was filled with an earsplitting roar filled with hunger and anger that could curdle blood. And it was getting closer. They looked ahead and watched as six Templars pulled something massive with all their might to the battle. The Inquisition and Ser Michel looked on in shock and horror as the Templars dragged in the largest giant any of them had ever seen, and what's worse, it was infected with red lyrium, increasing it strength and rage tenfold. Giants are creatures of infinite rage and hunger, and even under the influence of red lyrium, they are not beasts of burden. The giant grabbed the chains around that the Templars were pulling on and swung them all into a nearby wall, splattering them into wet, chunky smears on the wall, making their bodies look like swatted flies.

The giant turned it's single enraged eye towards the Inquisitor and his followers. It roared and gnashed its grotesque teeth, slammed it massive foot to the ground in primal dominance. Then it wrapped its arms around a massive, ruined support column and lifted it high above its head, aiming to crush all the intruders like ants.

Rajmael had neither the patience, nor the inclination to wage a battle against this gargantuan freak. Or be crushed like an ant beneath a big fucking rock. He activated his Arcane Shield, Enasalin blazed with white-hot veilfire, and he Fade Stepped and dashed forward on invisible waves of magic to close the distance between him and the immense monstrosity. In a blur of white, Rajmael dashed between both the giant's legs, his sword cut through both the tree-like limbs and severed the thing's legs right at the ankles. The giant screamed in thunderous agony as it fell backwards on the stumps where its feet used to be, thick ropes of blood spurting from its severed veins and arteries. The sound of thunder clapped and the whole ruin shook when the giant's body slammed to the ground. A wet, sloppy crunch echoed throughout the keep when the column it was carrying fell right on the giant's head, and crushed it like an egg. The shattered bits of the giant's skull and brains were scattered everywhere and its blood soaked the snow, turning it into a vile smelling red slush.

With these Templars dead, and this giant now a ruined mess all over the fortress floors, they now only had one obstacle left. The demon, Imshael.

**XoXoXo**

Iron Bull kicked down the final door with all his might, knocking it right off its hinges and flattening the sorry Templars that were standing on the other side. They reached the top of the Suledin Keep. From this snow-covered ruin they could see all of the Emprise du Lion. There were over a dozen Templars standing here, but they did nothing. They just stood there like they were in some kind of trance. What was going on?

_"Ah, and here you are at last. What took you so long, Michel? Too busy ruining more people's lives?"_ Asked a gleefully sardonic voice. They looked over to the center of the floor and found the owner of that voice.

_"Imshael."_ Ser Michel said the voice with hate and disgust.

This was the demon, Imshael? It had taken the form of a regular human, lean with brown hair and very...average features. Except perhaps for those extremely dark, sunken eyes. It was trying very hard to make itself seem normal as opposed to dangerous. Too normal.

_"Ah."_ The demon started. _"So you're the Herald of Andraste, no?"_

_"I'm the Herald of Andraste, no."_ Rajmael retorted. Rajmael cautiously walked around the demon, dragging the blade of his sword behind him, and never taking his eyes of the creature.

_"Ooh, quite the wit you have."_

_"Enough talk, demon."_ Michel growled. _"It's time to finish this."_

_"Choice. Spirit. Ser Michel. How many times do I have to repeat it?"_ Imshael sighed in frustration.

_"Yeah, and a rose by any other name is still a little prick."_ Rajmael insinuated at the demon.

_"It twists words to fit its own needs, hurts people instead of giving them what it promised, and laughs when it tricks them."_ Cole said with bitter anger. _"Inquisitor, we have to kill it now."_

_"I'm with the kid on this one, Boss. Let's waste this freak."_ Iron Bull agreed.

_"Be careful. Spirits such as this are not to be underestimated."_ Solas warned.

_"My such violent...companions you have here, Inquisitor."_ Imshael laughed. _"Ser Michel is quit the violent little one, you know. I find it a little odd that a proud Dalish tribesman would so willing to aid him. Would you like to know how many elves this man has killed?"_

_"Be Silent!"_ Michel demanded._ "Inquisitor, we must kill this creature now!"_

_"There was that one chimney-sweep you killed when he was on his way home from the tavern. Plunged his sword so deep into his chest the blade was sticking out of his back."_ Imshael revealed. _"Then he and his fellow Chevalier graduates chased down a whole group of them trying to get home. It took hours to clean all the blood off himself. Not to mention all the Dalish of Clan Vhirnen is completely wiped out thanks to his actions! Well...most of them any way, I didn't bother to take my time with the children..."_

Rajmael's knuckles were white from gripping his sword in anger, but he never took his eyes off Imshael. The Choice Spirit smiled gleefully knowing the anger and hate the Inquisitor had for Chevaliers.

_"Inquisitor, please!"_ Ser Michel pleaded. But Rajmael ignored him.

_"Now, here's my proposal, if you'll hear me out."_ The demon pleaded waving his hands. _"True to my nature I can give you a choice."_

_"Don't listen to it, Inquisitor!"_ the chevalier beseeched. _"It will only use you for it's own ends."_

_"Quite, Michel! The adults are talking."_ The demon sneered at the knight with a devious smile. _"Here's my proposal, Herald; You let me go and let me kill Ser Michel here, and I will increase the magical power you have right now a hundered times over!"_

_"No."_ The Inquisitor answered simply, still circling around Imshael with his sword dragging behind him.

_"What, that's it?"_ The desire demon asked. _"Not even going take time to consider it?"_

_"No need."_ Rajmael confirmed. _"I'm already more powerful than you could possibly know. All you are is a parasite that thrives off the temptations and suffering you cause people."_

_"Hey! I'm not the bad guy here."_ Imshael denied. _"These people all chose to be here. And I'm giving you the option to come out on top of this situation."_

Rajmael ceased circling around Imshael and planted his sword into the ground, glaring at it with hate in his eyes. _"You come to this world, and destroy the lives of entire people's merely for your own entertainment, then you seek to buy my mercy with temptation? You're not leaving this place alive, demon!"_

_"Choice! Spirit!"_ Imshael raged. _"Fuck this noise! If you won't choose this, then you choose to die!"_ A flash blinding bright of light exploded around Imshael, and the demon stepped forth revealing its true form, that of a Desire Demon. His skin dark as twilight, cracked with black ichor seeping out. Long black claws, a long scorpion-like tail, deep, pale eyes. And a crown of horn burning with black fire sat above his brow.

_"Remember, Inquisitor, you made this choice!"_ Imshael charged the Inquisitor with his claws burning with black flame with the intent to rip the elf to shreds.

_"Mana, Elgar! Ar in'ara ne asan!"_ Rajmael yelled, and Imshael slammed against what must have been an invisible wall just inches in front of the Inquisitor.

The demon shook its head and clawed against the invisible wall in front of it. Imshael scratched and attacked the invisible barrier with his claws and magic, and found he was trapped inside some kind of trap. Then everyone realized that when Rajmael was circling around Imshael he must have set up some kind of spell.

_"What is this!?"_ Imshael demanded as he raged against the barrier holding him.

_"I set up a binding circle around you while you were jacking your jaw like an asshole."_ Rajmael answered sardonically. Everyone casted their attention and saw the now glowing runes the circled around the demon where Rajmael had dragged his sword. _"And this particular binding circle is taught by the mages of my clan to be used on those who are possessed. To exorcise them, and slay the demons."_

_"Robbing a Choice Spirit of any kind of choice. That's low."_ Imshael condemned. _"And they call me a demon."_

_"You chose to kill everyone in Clan Vhirnen, and you chose to destroy the lives of the people of Sahrnia. You deserve a fate worse than this...but it will have to do."_ Rajmael struck the tip of his sword into the ground and the runes surrounding the demon lit up with white light. Imshael screamed as a storm of green lightning and white fire blazed inside the barrier, burning and striking the demon, reducing it to ash.

_"Aaargh! I was just getting started!"_ Imshael screamed and finally erupted into a ash and smoke, the Choice Spirit was destroyed and banished to the farthest reaches of the Fade. And with him no longer around to grow the red lyrium sustaining them, the Red Templars all dropped dead.

_"At long last, it is over. The demon is slain and Sarhnia is safe."_ Ser Michel de Chevin breathed a deep sigh of relief. The former Chevalier looked over to the Inquisitor with hope in his eyes. _"With Imshael dead, I find myself in search of a new cause. I would be honored to lend my sword to the Inquisition."_

Vivienne, Cassandra, and Blackwall both thought it was a good idea to have an experienced knight and player of The Game in their service. But Rajmael had reservations against Chevaliers as a matter of principal.

_"Before I even consider accepting you into the ranks of the Inquisition, I want you to answer me something, Michel de Chevin. And if I even think that you're lying to me, I will kill you."_ Rajmael's hand wrapped around the grip of his sword, ready to make good on his promise._ "How could an Orlesian elf-blooded shit like you become a Chevalier and the empress' personal bodyguard?"_

_"H-how...how could you know that?"_ Michel de Chevin was completely stunned.

_"That doesn't really matter, now does it? What matters is that I know, and I want my question answered."_

_"I suppose their is not point in hiding my past any longer."_ Michel sighed in defeat. _"Yes, I am a bastard son of a elven woman and a peasant. After my mother died I was taken in by Comte Bevin de Chalons and he fabricated my lineage so that I may join the Academie de Chevalier. And it was there I learned what honor truly is, and I made more of a life for myself there than I would have anywhere else. But I had to keep my true lineage a secret least I be discarded simply for the state of my birth. Eventually, I proved worthy enough to serve as Empress Celene's bodyguard."_

For the first time ever, Rajmael and Sera were of one mind in their regard for something. Michel's story did not move Rajmael. If anything, it only served to piss him off.

_"Take a good look at me, Chevalier."_ The Inquisitor ordered spitefully. _"Has it escaped your notice that I am an elf?"_

_"No, it has not, Your Worship."_

_"Then what makes you think I, an elf, would ever want to accept you, a Chevalier, worse, an elf-blooded Chevalier, who murdered elves in the alienage just to test your fucking swords as an initiation? Why should I allow a murderer and a liar join our ranks?"_

_ "My dear, please, do be practical..."_

_"Vivienne, please, do shut up."_ Rajmael ordered.

_"Yeah! We don't need pricks like them lumping with us."_ Sera spouted.

_"You allow thieves, mercenaries, shady businessmen and even condemned killers to join our ranks, but you will not let a proven knight and veteran of the Game to willingly aid you? It seems counterproductive, dear."_ Vivienne reasoned.

_"How often do guys like him just show up at your doorstep, Boss?"_ Iron Bull asked._ "He's got skill, knows Orlesians and their bullshit, and he's eager to join. Might not want to pass someone like him up."_

_"I get it. You're an elf and he's a Chevalier; you've got every right to hate this man's guts. Chevaliers have earned their reputation for being bastards."_ Blackwall admitted. _"But not every soldier and knight has the option of walking a clear cut path between good and bad. Sometimes we all do terrible things to get by, or because duty demands it."_

Rajmael really hated to admit it, but his companions...had valid points. Rajmael hated Chevaliers as a rule, but Ser Michel had risked his life for the people of Sarhnia to slay Imshael, and he was willing to pledge his sword and service to an elf. But Rajmael was not going to just look over his transgressions against elves. _"Very well, Ser Michel. I'll accept your sword and service. But first, you might want to get that bruise looked at."_

_"What bruise?"_

Rajmael's fist was planted square into de Chevin's jaw, the force was so strong it sent him flying back several feet, and would leave him dizzy for a week. _"Welcome to the Inquisition."_

Rajmael and his companions gathered any and all information they could find here. Reports on the Templars' movements, shipping manifests telling where they were sending the Red Lyrium, and even alchemical formulas on the use of red lyrium. There were even orders and notes written by Samson's own hand. But most of all, a ciphered map detailing where Samson himself might be. This could be the breakthrough they've been looking for. They claimed the Keep, and prepared to make their way back to Skyhold, Cullen would need to see all that they've discovered. But first, there was one more loose end to tie up back in Sarhnia...

**The Village of Sahrnia...**

The Inquisition's presence and actions here had a most profound effect on the village. They had brought in some desperately needed necessities and food to the citizens, many were overcome with joy to have their friends and family return to them safe from the quarry. Rajmael and his entourage approached Lady Poulin's ramshackle cottage with a small contingency of Inquisition soldiers.

_"Oh! Blessings on you, and the Inquisition. I prayed so hard that you would succeed."_ The noblewoman praised.

_"You should have kept those prayers."_ Rajmael stated less than pleased. _"You lied to my face, Poulin. You took the Red Templars' gold in exchange for the villagers to work that fucking quarry!"_

_"Yes, I took there gold. Gold and any supplies they could give."_ Lady Poulin admitted. _"There are many orphans here in Sarhnia. Who protected them when their parents were killed? We couldn't run with the ice and the demons plaguing this land, and if I protested they would have killed me and taken the villagers anyway. All I could do was try to save as many as I could, and pray that someone like you would come and destroy them. All we could do was try to survive until that day, and that day has come. I was right."_

_"You still lied about what happened here, and hid your involvement with the Red Templars. You trying to cover up your guilt."_ Cassandra stated.

_"Those people were taken and infected with Red Lyrium, a fate worse than death or starvation. You didn't protect them, you sent them to their graves."_ Rajmael said damningly while he b bitterly remembered euthanizing little Lina.

_"What was I supposed to do? Grab the old pitchfork and lead the starving people of Sarhnia against the Templars? We are farmers, not soldiers, there was no way we could fight the Templars without all of us dying."_ Poulin defended.

_"Regardless of your reasoning, for good or ill, your actions aided the Red Templars in their war against the world and led to the brutal deaths of all those you were supposed to protect."_ Rajmael denounced. _"Mistress Poulin, your are under arrest for the crimes of aiding and abetting the Red Templars, participating in the heinous crime of slavery, and your crimes against the people of Sarhnia. You will be taken to Skyhold for your pending judgment."_

Rajmael motioned his soldiers to take the noblewoman. She offered no resistance. With everything here taken care of, Rajmael and the others prepared to leave for Skyhold. Cullen needed to learn everything they had learned. With any luck, they could find Samson and destroy him, and the Elder One's army of Red Templars.

**Skyhold**

Rajmael was now sitting in Cullen's office and his commander was reading over the reports Samson had left and the former Templar had a look of absolute disgust on his face.

_"All this time I tried convincing myself that Samson was trying to serve a righteous cause."_ Cullen said angrily. _"But this? There's no reason good enough! I knew Samson had fallen low, but I can't understand how he could do all of this and for Corypheus!"_

Rajmael shared Cullen's glower. _"Somehow I doubt enslaving people and using them as fodder to create corrupted armor was in the Templar's job description."_

_"It's more than just that."_ Cullen stated with a voice filled with forlorn and anger. _"Samson knows that red lyrium will turn Templars who consume it into monsters, but he's having them do it anyway. So many good men and women are following him, trusting him, and he is turning them into battle fodder, all for the sake of his own vanity."_

Rajmael could see the anguish in Cullen, he didn't know how to assuage it, but perhaps the could still get justice for Samson had done, for the Templars he betrayed and for the people he murdered.

_"I'm also concerned about what this...vessel is."_ Rajmael remembered. _"What does he mean that his armor will make him Corypheus' vessel?"_

_"Maybe it's a Venatori rank?"_ Cullen guessed.

_"Or something really, really bad."_ Dagna piped in unexpectedly. The red-headed dwarf appeared out of nowhere surprising both the Inquisitor and the General. _"Um, I know I should've knocked first, but with what I have discovered I just couldn't help myself!"_

_"Have you discovered something, Arcanist?"_ Cullen addressed formally.

_"Oh, like you wouldn't believe!"_ Dagna half exclaimed and half giggled. _"This red lyrium stuff, it's alive!"_

_"What?"_ Rajmael asked. _"How can that be? Lyrium is a natural element that connects us to the fade, how can this red stuff be...alive?"_

_"Well, I haven't figured that part out yet but it has something to do with the corruption."_ Dagna explained. _"That's the reason why it makes the Red Templars have all of these amazing abilities, it's like when the corruption creates darkspawn. Y'know, like how Hurlock's are all stronger and more resilient than humans yet are all diseased and icky."_

_"Just like Meredith."_ Cullen recalled._ "She wielded a great sword made of Red Lyirum and it enhanced her physical abilities beyond measure and also gave her the ability to animate statues. But it eventually drove her insane over a period of years, why is it Samson wears a suit of armor and wields the same weapon of Red Lyrium and is still functional?"_

_"I wondered that too."_ Dagna admitted. _"At most he should be a monster like the other Red Templars, or at least he should be dead. That's when I realized that it's how his armor was made. His armor was made specifically not to affect him, and it's probably the armor itself that's keeping his lyrium addiction at bay. Whoever made his armor must a real genius."_

_"Maddox..."_ Cullen realized. _"It must be Maddox that is making his armor."_

_"Who and what's a Maddox?"_ Rajmael asked.

A look of guilt washed over Cullen's face. _"He's a bit of both actually, depending on who you ask. Do you remember how I told that Samson was cast out of the order for delivering a mage's letters to his sweetheart? Maddox was that mage. Samson was removed from being a Templar and Maddox was made Tranquil."_

_"He was made tranquil just for something as trivial as that?"_ Rajmael inquired.

_"Meredith wielded the brand for much lesser offences, trust me."_ Cullen admitted ruefully. _"After Maddox was made tranquil he became a smith for the circle, and the things he made were incredible. A genius savant. When the Circle was destroyed I thought Maddox was killed in the fighting or eking a living on the streets, but I guess Samson must've rescued him and is using him to make that armor of his."_

_"Samson will be keeping Maddox close at hand, so he must be wherever Samson's be is. We need to find Samson's base of operations and destroy it."_ The Inquisitor declared._ "It will relieve Samson and his Templars of what's left of his lyrium supply and if we were to capture Maddox, Samson will no longer be able to maintain his armor."_

Cullen nodded in agreement. _"Leliana should have a report on where his base is very soon. Inquisitor, when you go after him I want to be there, for obvious reasons."_

Rajmael nodded his head in agreement. A short time later Leliana and her agents had deciphered the map that led to Samson's base of operations. An ancient temple in the Free Marches that was once a place of worship to the Tevinter God of Silence, Dumat.

**The Shrine of Dumat**

The Shrine of Dumat was an ominous place, not in terms of it being large, but it was dark and foreboding, Rajmael and his companions, even those who were not mages, could feel the power and magic of this place. The Shrine stood on a seaside cliff, as if to watch what was beyond the sea. Like most ancient Tevinter ruins it was adorned with dragon statues, these one's in particular, however, were facing down with their jaws sealed tightly shut. They looked like sentinels looking down on the mortals in grim judgment, fitting for a place dedicated to the Dragon of Silence.

The place would be a sight to behold if the Inquisitor and his forces weren't turning the place into a killing field and painting the walls with the blood of Red Templars. What was once dark is now burning bright, from both the red lyrium growing in abundance here and an inferno was now burning away all that was housed here. Red Templars now lay dead all of the ancient floor, their blood washing over the mosaics that decorated the floor. Rajmael had to admit, Cullen's martial prowess was very impressive, of course he wouldn't be the general of the Inquisition's armies if he was a slouch.

_"Charming place."_ Dorian commented sarcastically. _"I can see why the ancient Tevinters abandoned this place, so dismal."_

_"You can tell this place is old Tevinter."_ Iron Bull half joked._ "This place just reeks of arrogance. Even after thousands of years their architecture remains the same."_

_"Hm, if you can take away the red lyrium and all of the dead bodies you can still see the majesty of this place."_ Replied Vivienne.

_"Yeah, right!"_ Exclaimed Sera. _"This place looks like the bottom of a backed up privy!"_

_"They came here to offer their prayers."_ Cole replied. _"Something watched, and something listened. It whispered things to them, until it didn't."_

_"Well, that just plain creepy."_ Varric shuddered.

_"The Ancient Tevinters used to us this place to meditate and offer their prayers, and sacrifices to Dumat, the God of Silence."_ Solas explained

_"We came her for a reason."_ Cassandra reminded. _"Let's concentrate on the matter at hand."_

_"I'm with Cassandra."_ Cullen agreed. _"We need to find Maddox, apprehend him, before this place smolders to the ground."_

When they entered the inner sanctum of the temple only a token force was their to meet them and much of place was already set ablaze. Smoke filled the air, and it felt as though they were baking in an oven. And just like anywhere else the Red Templars tainted with their profane existence, there were massive columns and boulders of pure red lyrium growing from the very walls. The Inquisitor and his companions made quick work of them all but Cullen seemed less the pleased.

_"Damn it all!"_ The former Templar cursed. _"Samson must've known we were coming and put this place to the torch."_

Shit. That means anything useful they might have found could already be destroyed.

_"We need to find this Maddox quickly and get of out here."_ Rajmael said.

The Inquisition continued to look through the temple. Quickly. Finally they found a strange room towards the back of the temple. It had unrefined red lyrium just sitting all over the floor, strange apparatus', alchemical sets and many strange tools were laid around. This room seemed like a mix between an alchemical lab and smithy. And lying with his back on the wall was a bald, young man with sunburst stamped right on his forehead.

_"Maddox."_ Cullen addressed._ "Samson's Tranquil."_

_"Hello, Commander Cullen. And you must be the Inquisitor."_ Maddox greeted in the polite, emotionless tone of the Tranquil. _"Many here did not believe the Herald of Andraste was a Dalish elf."_

_"Yeah, nice to meet you too, creepy. Would you mind telling us where Samson is before this place goes up in smoke?"_

_"Inquisitor, something's wrong with him."_ Cullen pointed out._ "I'll call for the healers..."_

_"That will not be necessary, Knight-Captain Cullen. I've already consumed an entire vial nightcap essence. I will be dead soon."_ Maddox revealed calmly.

They were all taken aback by all this.

_"Why would you do such a thing?"_ Cassandra asked in shock.

_"We all agreed it was for the best. I destroyed the camp with fire, along with all my research notes. Our deaths would ensure Samson's escape."_ Maddox answered.

_"Why?"_ Cullen asked, aghast. _"Why would you do all of this? For Samson!?"_

_"Samson was the one who rescued me after the Circle was destroyed."_ Maddox explained calmly._ "Samson gathered us all and gave us a new purpose, to aid Corypheus to make a new world, one were the Chantry would no longer have power over us and disregard us after being abused."_

So Samson was giving all of these once proud men and women a chance that the Chantry denied them; a purpose. The truth now is the are all now fodder for the ambitions of Corypheus and Samson knows that. Samson is doing the exact same thing the Chantry did to him, he's just too vain and self-righteous to realize that.

_"Maddox..."_ Rajmael addressed. _"Where is Samson now?"_

_"Far away."_ Maddox replied weakly. _"The fires will soon destroy all traces here but Samson left something for you, Cullen."_ Maddox pointed to the tables where a piece of paper was waiting for. _"I...wanted...to help..."_ and with that last breath, the Tranquil expired.

Cullen went to go see what was left for him while Rajmael looked over Maddox's body. Ultimately Rajmael felt pity for the former mage; he was made tranquil just for being in love, then he was used as a tool for the Templars and a tool again for Samson and the saddest part was he thought it was for a good cause, when Corypheus' purpose was something...terrifying.

_"What did you find, Cullen?"_ Cassandra asked.

_"A letter addressed to me. From Samson."_ Cullen replied while looking at the letter and read it allowed. _"The Chantry used us, just as you are being used...Corypheus chose me as his General and his Vessel...Your fighting for the wrong side."_ Cullen scowled angrily and tore the letter in two. _"Says the man that uses men, women, and children as energy fuel."_

The fires blazed around them, soon this temple would be smoldering pile of kindling. If there was anything to be found, they needed to find it fast. But what was left? Maddox destroyed all his research notes.

_"Inquisitor."_ Cole called. He was holding a chest full of strange tools and apparatuses. Some kind of forging equipment? _"Fingers hurting, eyes stinging. Must be careful, must be perfect. There must be no flaw in Samson's armor, or it will be useless."_

_"Those are lyrium forging impliments, of a unique design."_ Dorian pointed out, rather impressed. _"Intact, they'd be worth a fortune."_

_"Looks like they're based off of Paragon Branka's design, but with some modifications."_ Varric added.

_"Those must be the tools that Maddox used to craft Samson's armor."_ Cullen surmised. _"The Tranquil will often custom make their own tools for specific purposes. Perhaps Dagna can make sense of them. Maybe she can find a way to reverse engineer them and come up with away to unmake Samson's armor."_

_"If that's all we can salvage, then I suggest we get out of here, and fast. Before we're all cooked in here like a baker's dozen."_ Blackwall suggested.

The Warden's suggestion was a sound one. As they made their way out, Rajmael noticed that one of the Templars they attacked wasn't quite dead yet. He was bleeding bad, but not mortally, and crawled to his feet coughing up blood.

_"Please...Please help me."_ The Templar begged.

_"Wait. I know him. It's Ser Karras, he and I served together back in Kirkwall. He was one of Meredith's most loyal, and cruel subordinates."_ Cullen recounted.

_"Yeah, I remember this asshole."_ Varric said angrily._ "Blondie used to tell me how much this guy liked to bully mages, and even volunteered to do the Rite of Tranquility on mages with Ser Alrik. He was on Hawke's shit-list for how he treated Bethany."_

_"Please, you have to help me."_ The Templar begged. _"I...I can give you information on Samson."_

_"What do you think Inquisitor?"_ Cullen asked.

Rajmael remembered that little girl from the Sarhnia, Lina. How many other children met that horrible fate? How many more were suffering right now because of Samson's, and this Karras, and their devotion to Corypheus. All the cruelties and atrocities that they inflicted on others for their own gratification, for their own greed and hatred. He swore to Elgar'nan that Samson would meet a terrible end, after he sent The Elder One into the deepest, darkest reaches of the, most pit in the Beyond. But first, he'd deal with this sniveling putz.

Rajmael grabbed the wounded Karras by the neck in his powerful grip, and dragged him over to a nearby slab in the middle of the burning room.

_"No! W-what are you doing?!"_ Karras demanded. Rajmael silently slammed him on to the black stone slab, then strapped him to it with the attached chains. _"What in the Maker's name are you doing!?"_

_"No point in calling for the Maker here, seeing as how this is Dumat's temple. And this is his altar. Try praying to him, maybe he'll help you out."_ Rajmael informed. Everyone took a step back and noticed the massive draconian statue of the Old God of Silence standing above the Templar. That was no mere slab he was strapped to: it was a sacrificial altar. Rajmael turned around and walked away, leaving the Templar to be roasted alive in this burning temple.

_"NO! You knife-eared bastard! Come back here!"_ Karras vainly stuggled against his chains as the fire blazed around him. _"The Elder One will curse you. You elf-mage, son of a bitch!"_

_"You're the first person to be sacrificed in this temple in over two thousand years. Be honored."_ The Inquisitor called back as they left the building. The sound of Karras' screams as the fires consumed him, blackened his flesh, burnt his hair and melted his face, filled Rajmael with a righteous sense of vindication. After what these men did to people like Lina, and the villagers of Sarhnia, and what they would have done to the world, men like Karras deserved a worse fate than this. But it was a good start.

**Back at Skyhold...**

Cullen and Rajmael met back in Cullen's office, looking over their findings, and victory against the Elder One.

_"With his base of operations destroyed and your success in Sarhnia, we've dealt a crippling blow to Corypheus. Samson can no longer give his soldiers a steady supply of lyrium, which will cripple them."_ Cullen commended. _"We've cut the Red Templars to the core. Soon Corypheus won't have an army to stand on."_

_"That bastard Samson still got away."_ Rajmael gritted through his teeth.

_"I feel your frustration, Inquisitor, I truly do. Maddox shouldn't have had to die for Samson, there was so much good he could have done. Samson didn't deserve Maddox's sacrifice."_ Cullen rued. _"But this was a great victory, and with what we found in that temple could be the key to defeating Samson. With luck, Dagna will be able to find a chink in his armor."_

_"Tell Dagna that studying those tools and deciphering what we've discovered is her top priority. I want to know exactly where to plant my sword into Samson's body, and where it will hurt the most."_

_"As you command, Inquisitor."_

Rajmael still could not shake Lina from his mind. The fact that he was forced to kill her to save her because of what the Templars did still gnawed at him, made his heart ache. What if he had been forced to do that to Eva? It would destroy him. Just as it was destroying the hearts and souls of thousands of parents and children, all because the likes of Samson and Corypheus. Rajmael looked into his soul and found his resolve renewed. He marched into the War Room, his other advisors waiting for him.

_"Alright, someone give me something. I want to know how I can keep kicking Corypheus in the nuts."_

_"Actually, Inquisitor, you may get your wish. We already have something you'll want to hear."_ Josephine stated. The ambassador pointed to a tall human in his early forties with dark hair and a sharp hooked nose carrying a bow on his back. Accompanying him was a red-haired dwarf with a thick beard tied into two long knots, carrying a war hammer that was bigger than he was. A loud, disgusting belch erupted from the dwarf's gullet that reeked like stale alcohol and vomit.

_"And who are you?"_ Rajmael asked curiously.

The human stood before The Inquisitor with respect. _"My name is Nathaniel Howe. Warden-Commander of Order of The Grey in Ferelden. And I have news concerning The Champion of Kirkwall and Warden Stroud."_

**Language Codex:**

**Da'len:** Elven, translates as _"Little Child."_

**Lethanavir:** Elven, roughly translates as_ "Friend of the Dead."_

**Mana, Elgar! Ar in'ara ne asan!:** Elven incantation, roughly translates as _"Stop Spirit! I bind you to this place!"_

**Enasalin:** Elven, translates as_ "Victory."_

**Author's Note:**

Sorry for the wait. Been busy lately, and the 4th of July weekend was pretty distracting. Now we got some familiar faces showing up, and I promise you're going to be seeing more in the upcoming chapters. Please review. All rights and ownership belongs to BioWare.


	22. Betrayal of The Grey: Part I

**Betrayal of The Grey: Part I**

Kieran was turning in his bed again. He was having another strange dream. Morrigan gently placed her hand on his forehead hoping to calm his dreaming. As he settled down, she took a moment to look at her son. Kieran was such a handsome lad, and so intelligent. More often than she'd like, Morrigan felt terribly guilty about being the reason why her son couldn't live as a normal boy. Aedan's words rung in her head, and once again wished she had just defied Flemeth and never gone through with the ritual. Perhaps she and Aedan would be together in the Cousland ancestral home, and Kieran would grow up not wanting for anything, being happy and perhaps even inherit the Teyrnir of Highever. No! Stop it! Morrigan chided herself. No good ever comes of wondering what could have been. People like her and Aedan were not normal, but Kieran might've been if she wasn't selfish, all she could do now was fulfill her purpose and protect Kieran from the world's dangers.

The Witch of the Wilds pulled out her personal journal that held all her secrets and magically unlocked the sealed cover. This book held intimate secrets she wanted to no one else's eyes to look upon. And from the pages of her journal she pulled out two pages that were most precious to her. The first was a hand-drawn picture of herself smiling gently. The paper was worn, being roughly ten years old, but the picture was still as vibrant as the day it was drawn. The second was a small portrait of Morrigan with her son and the man she loves, Aedan Cousland. She was holding his arm while he held their still infant child, and all of them were smiling.

Morrigan hugged the pictures to her chest like treasures. How she longed to be with her beloved Warden once more, the time they spent together after he found her was truly the happiest of her life. She longed to see his beautiful blue eyes, be held in his powerful arms. To hear him whisper, "Mo Siuile Orga Whurnin", his Golden-Eyed Darling, in her ear once more. But then the Calling came, and she needed to prepare her son for the future ahead.

And now the Elder One was threatening the whole of reality, and she must aid the Inquisition in his downfall. Morrigan still remembered the vivid detail of that horrid future Rajmael visited, and she knew he told her the truth. Of how Corypheus tore apart the very fabric of reality, how Aedan had been tortured like an animal for over a year with the Blight slowly killing him. And worst yet, how her beloved was forced to watch the Elder One murder their child. Morrigan would never let that happen, not so long as she drew breath. She would protect her baby.

Morrigan tucked her son in and kissed his brow before leaving him to sleep. Ever since she joined the Inquisition, Morrigan and Kieran have kept mostly to themselves. Kieran would sometimes go exploring around the Keep and try to socialize with some of workers and children that resided here. It was good to see her boy trying to interact with others. Socialization is very important to a child's upbringing, or so Aedan said. It was hard to argue, such luxury was denied to her as a child, and it did very little to prepare her for the real world, or improve her disposition. Only Aedan was able to overlook her asocial attitude.

Morrigan had to admit, she wasn't at all that surprised to Leliana again, and head of the Inquisition's espionage no less. Morrigan did her best to avoid talking to her, for the two of them never really got along even when they aided in ending the Blight. The two of them had seen each other and exchanged a few words only a few times in the Orlesian Court, but both felt it best to just stay away from one another. Morrigan was quite surprised that Cullen was the general to the Inquisition's forces. She never would've believed such a thing from the first impression he left on her when they first met back in Kinloch Hold during the Blight. A sobbing, pathetic wretch in a cage, ready to smite any and all mages who looked at him wrong, then again most Templars were probably like that anyway.

Kieran was now sleeping well, and it was time for her turn in, too. Morrigan still had much to do, and what she was working on for the Inquisitor still needed preparation and perfecting. The Chasind witch blew out candle next to her nightstand and resided herself to sleep. Perhaps…just perhaps, she and Aedan would be reunited in the lands of dreams.

**The Next Day….**

Kieran had found one one of Leliana's messenger ravens injured in the garden. Apparently, the poor creature was knocked out of the air by the powerful Frostback winds and landed in the garden, and Kieran returned it to her to be healed. Despite Morrigan's wishes, Leliana and Kieran would talk and try to get to know one another. There was a certain amount of fun to be had in having a secret friend, especially when it was one your mother didn't approve of. Leliana could see so much of Aedan in Kieran. Their eyes, their hair, and even their faces. Put some paint on Kieran's face, and he was his father's spitting image. And beneath that polite, quiet face, Leliana could feel Aedan's strength in Kieran. Oh, she adored having time with this boy.

_"Will she be alright?"_ Kieran asked sincerely.

Leliana couldn't help but smile, this boy's innocence was just so touching. _"She'll be just fine, Kieran. Thank you so much for returning her. How did you find her?"_

_"I heard her calling for help, but no one else listened. The raven wanted to return to the Nightingale."_

_"Well, thank you so much. You're like a little knight rescuing an injured creature."_

Kieran's cheeks blushed bashfully. _"My father always told me that I don't need to be knight to do the honorable thing. But thank you."_

_"Well, you're father sounds like a great man."_ Leliana knew in her heart who Kieran's father was, but if Morrigan didn't feel like telling the world neither would she. As Kieran left, he walked past Enchanter Vivienne, apparently she had returned from Samson's base, meaning the Inquisitor had returned. The former Imperial Enchanter looked less than pleased to see the young boy walking around.

Leliana noticed the look n Vivienne's face, and didn't like it. _"Is something wrong, Enchanter?"_

_"Oh, nothing you need to concern yourself with, dear. I just simply can't fathom how the Inquisitor can just give that wretched apostate from the Wilds and her bastard offspring free range of this keep."_ Vivienne answered with disgust reserved for cockroaches. _"It's like this Inquisition has no civilized standards. It's repulsive, really."_

Leliana felt that thing scrathing at the base of her skull. That little voice that tells someone to just hurt another when they're being a bitch. But Leliana was still a lady and would refrain from such an…uncivilized act. _"Enchanter Vivienne, while Morrigan and I have our differences, she was still my comrade once, and I will not stand here and listen to you speak of Kieran with such undeserved cruelty and disrespect. Kieran is a sweet and wonderful child, and his father is a great man. And if his father were here, he'd smash your pretty head into the wall and break every bone in your body for speaking that way about either of them. If he wanted to be generous, and he usually isn't."_

_"My, my, I didn't realize you were so close to the boy."_ Vivienne raised her eyebrow curiously. _"Or perhaps you're simply close to the boy's father. He must be quite the somebody for you to speak so strongly on his behalf."_

Being a master player of the Game, Leliana knew when someone was fishing for something._ "Who Kieran's father is, is no business of yours, lest you by some miracle, work up the courage to ask Morrigan yourself. But we both know you don't have that in you. Just know this: if you say another word about Kieran, I'll know. And should I hear of such talk, I will act on his father's behalf. And while I could never even be half as brutal as he is, I promise you this: you will regret it."_

_"Making threats like an ill-mannered dog-lord? My, my, Leliana, how uncouth."_ Vivienne smiled with that condescending look in her eyes.

_"I don't make threats, Enchanter. Now, did you come here for a reason?"_

_"I just came here and thought I'd ask to use your couriers to relay a message to the capital. I've such important matters to tend to back in Val Royeaux. As I'm sure you can imagine."_

_"You've got coin of your own, hire your own people to deliver it. My agents and the Inquisition's couriers are not your personal messenger boys. They've much more important things to do than help you with your personal matters. As I'm sure you can imagine."_ Leliana gave Vivienne that look she learned from Aedan.

_"Very well, dear. I shan't bother you, then. But do try not to scowl so hard, you're getting wrinkles."_

_"And you should watch your diet a little more closely, Vivienne. At your age, your metabolism isn't what it used to be, and you're getting fat."_ With their little spat finished, Vivienne and Leliana both resumed their respective duties. It was times like this Leliana wished she could take Aedan's approach to people who were so disagreeable; by beating the them to the ground and bludgeoning them with a blunt instrument. But that was not her way, and it was not the way Rajmael had been trying to show her. Death is not always the answer, eve when it seems like the only way or the easiest. Oh, what this Inquisition could accomplish if the Hero of Ferelden were here. With Rajmael and Aedan both leading their forces, the Inquisition would be unstoppable, and Corypheus would know the true meaning of fear. But alas, it just wasn't meant to be. All she could do was try to perform her duty to best of her ability, and pray that Aedan was alright, and that this Inquisition could stop Corypheus' mad scheme on their own.

**~XoXoXo~**

Kieran had seen manors and castles before, but nothing he'd seen in Orlais could compare to Skyhold. His father used to tell him stories about how he restored the fortress of Vigil's Keep beyond its former glory. How places of power and authority should have strong walls, and be unassailable. His father would not have been impressed with the castles and manors he and Mother lived in while they stayed in Orlais, his father didn't like Orlesians to begin with. But Skyhold would have impressed him, the Inquisitor and his people did a wonderful job restoring it. The magic that existed within the very stones of this place gave it more protection than anyone could realize. Mother said it was the elves who first set the foundations of Skyhold, but the magic here was older than the elves.

Kieran saw someone walking through the Keep's grounds. A tall man with dark hair wearing Fereldan styled armor and Grey Warden colors. Was it him? Was it Father? Kieran ran up the steps and to the upper courtyard to try and reach him. Maybe he's finally returned, Mother would be so happy. But Kieran's hope was turned into disappointment. The dark haired Grey Warden was definitely not his father. He carried a quiver of arrow and a bow, instead of an Ash Warrior's axe. This man's had an aquiline nose and broad features, and he did not bear the familiar blue Alamarii war paint on his face.

_"You're a Grey Warden..."_ Kieran observed sadly.

_"I am indeed, young man."_ The Warden said kindly. His voice sounded like gravel being scraped on the ground.

_"But there's no darkspawn here. Why would Grey Wardens be at Skyhold?"_

_"Sometimes our duty compels us to go elsewhere in order to combat the darkspawn effectively."_ The Warden archer took a good look at the boy before him. _"You...look familiar. Is it possible I know your father?"_

Morrigan watched from a distance as her son spoke with Warden-Commander Nathaniel Howe. Aedan once described the last remaining son of Arl Howe to her in great detail. She had to admit she was rather surprised when she learned that her love placed the Grey Wardens under the authority of the son of one of the very men responsible for the Order's destruction in Ferelden. The son of Arl Howe, who betrayed and murdered Aedan's family. But then, Aedan was a good judge of character when it came to the measure of a man's honor and sense of duty. Morrigan's train of thought was broken when an unwelcome but familiar scent of stale liquor mixed with vomit and body odor, accompanied by a stomach churning belch right behind her. There was only one creature in all of Thedas that could be so repulsive.

_"Morrigan! By the Stone, I knew I recognized ya! I see ya still got them fine legs." Oghren laughed crudely._

_"Oghren, I see you still haven't grasped the concept of proper hygiene."_ Morrigan groaned. The witch took a moment to observe the dwarven warrior. The thick locks of knotted beard still hung from his cheeks like red ropes, and his once bare chin now had a matching twisted goatee hanging from it. Oghren's bright red hair now had streaks of grey along his temples and along his beard. But despite the fact that Oghren was getting older, he still held himself with that overbearing sense of confidence and strength he had back when they fought in the Blight. Being a Grey Warden had done nothing t diminish his skill and standing as a warrior.

_"So...that's Aedan's little ankle bitter, huh?"_

Morrigan was a little shocked. How could Oghren know that? He was never that sober. _"How...how can you know that?"_

_"Bah, call it a father's intuition, Morrigan. And I'm not nearly drunk enough to not see Aedan in that boy. Ha. I always knew you two had it in ya."_ Oghren smiled up at the witch through his thick beard. _"So...that's why The Hero of Ferelden retired from the Wardens and gave his position of Commander to Nathaniel all those years ago. I knew it had to be a woman, and you're the only woman that guy can't get over. And you could probably call it another father's intuition."_

_"Ugh! Please, spare me the thought of you procreating."_ Morrigan gagged. She have would almost blushed from such a comment if it came from anyone else, and not Oghren with his rancid breath _"What woman in her right mind could possibly want to copulate with you of her own free will?"_

_"Oh, yeah. I knew there was a reason I missed you."_ Oghren chuckled.

_"I'm curious, Oghren. What brings two Grey Wardens from the Order in Ferelden here to Skyhold?"_

_"You know that Champion of Kirkwall guy? Hawke? We received word at Vigil's Keep from the guy. Nathaniel owes Hawke a favor, and was told to bring this news directly to the Inquisitor."_

_"Warden-Commander Howe, Ser Oghren?"_ Josephine called._ "We are ready for you in the War Room. The Inquisitor shall be with you shortly."_

**~XoXoXo~**

The two Wardens bade farewell to Morrigan and her son, and were guided to the War Room. It was an impressive looking chamber. Nathaniel took a glimpse at the large War Table and saw the amount of Inquisition operations all over that map. The Inquisition was responsible for all this activity? And here Nathaniel thought being the Commander of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden kept him busy. He can't imagine how the Inquisitor gets his job done.

The room doors busted open and an elf with red hair tied into a long knotted ponytail came in. Judginhg And he looked pissed.

_"Alright, someone give me something. I want to know how I can keep kicking Corypheus in the nuts."_

_"Actually, Inquisitor, you may get your wish. We already have something you'll want to hear."_ Josephine stated.

This elf from the Dalish clans was the Inquisitor? The Herald of Andraste? Nathaniel had heard the stories, but didn't believe them at first. From what Nathaniel recalled from Velanna, no true Dalish would ever venerate the Chantry, the Maker or Andraste. How odd that an institution devout to the worship of the Maker, and the former hands of the Divine would serve a man who most likely didn't worship the Maker.

_"And who are you?"_ Rajmael asked curiously.

Nathaniel stood and addressed The Inquisitor with respect. _"My name is Nathaniel Howe. Warden-Commander of Order of The Grey in Ferelden. And I have news concerning The Champion of Kirkwall and Warden Stroud."_

That instantly caught Rajmael's attention. _"Please, continue, Warden-Commander Howe."_

_"A week ago, I received word from Hawke at Vigil's Keep via raven that he and Warden Stroud will be meeting in an old smuggler's cave in the village Crestwood. It's a small trading and fishing village north of Lake Calenhad. The message gave me very specific instructions that I was to bring this news directly to you. I also bring a warning that you must heed; apparently the Wardens of Orlais have orders to arrest and detain Stroud for betraying the Grey Wardens, or so Warden-Commander Clarel has stated."_

If Hawke was sending them this news, then it meant they finally had the lead they'd been looking for. Maybe now they could finally find out what the connection was between the Grey Wardens and Corypheus. Maybe they could even discover what The Elder One's plans were.

_"Why would Ser Hawke trust you with this information?"_ Leliana asked.

_"Because I owed Hawke a favor. A few years ago the Wardens mounted an expedition into the Deep Roads where Hawke had journeyed. We were overrun by darkspawn and everyone in the expedition had been killed. I would have certainly died down there if my sister Delilah hadn't sent Hawke down there to find me."_

_"If the Wardens have orders to arrest Stroud for betrayal, then why aren't you aiding them?"_ Cullen asked. _"What betrayal are they speaking of?"_

_"I cannot say what he's been accused of. It's...complicated."_ Nathaniel evaded. _"But as to why I'm not helping them; Aedan Cousland once made it very clear to me that the Grey Wardens of Ferelden's sole purpose for existing is to stand our post and protect Ferelden from the Blight. Not make back alley deals or partake in skullduggery for our own gain. And after what Warden-Commander Clarel did all those years ago, I don't fault Aedan's logic."_

_"Why? What did Clarel do?"_ Josephine asked curiously.

_"She went and made the fatal mistake of pissing off the guy who killed the Archdemon singlehandedly."_ Oghren answered with pity.

_"Here, perhaps you should read this. It will explain better."_ Nathaniel handed the Inquisitor an aged letter written years ago.

Rajmael observed the sharply written handwriting on the letter and read it out loud.

**_To the simpering, conniving bitch known as Clarel de Chanson, Warden-Commander of Orlais,_**

**_I don't know how stupid you think I am, or how stupid you must be to think you can go behind my back and believe I won't find out. Nothing happens in this country without my knowing! I know that after I refused to accept your foreign Warden's into this country, you tried going over my head and petitioning Arl Teagan to grant you entry. After meeting with the men you sent to me, I am convinced more than ever that your men, and therefore you are more concerned with the fucking Blight and its darkspawn than you are about the people this country. The fact that you chose to undermine my authority instead of meeting me with honor only proves where your loyalties truly are._**

**_Allow me to be perfectly clear, so that you will understand how deathly serious I am. I don't trust you, nor do I trust anyone who serves under you. I know you're still butt-hurt over not being able to combat the Blight years ago. I know you will do anything to combat the Blight, and that worries me. You and your men would willingly commit the murders of many, and use the Blight as your excuse to do even worse crimes. I've seen the devastation caused by such blind obsession and disregard, it was the same excuse Avernus used when he destroyed Soldier's Peak. I command the Wardens in Ferelden, I decide who's worthy to protect her. And no one, not you or the First Warden, or anyone else can make demands of me and come out unscathed._**

**_You may think that I'm just blowing smoke, or just using my authority to secure my own position, and I don't give a fuck. The stories you've heard about me can't even begin to cover the truth, because I'm capable of being infinitely more vicious than you can imagine. If you ever cross me like this again, I will know. And I will hunt you down in whatever keep or outpost you're holing up in, and I will not only murder you, but I'll kill any and every sorry fucker that stands in the way of me butchering you like the miserable cow you are. And if you doubt my words, ask the Archdemon._**

**_Fuck you,_**

**_Aedan Cousland, Warden-Commander of Ferelden._**

**_PS: You can tell the First Warden that he can go fuck himself and die, too._**

Rajmael folded the letter back up. He and his advisors all had a surprised look on their faces. Oghren, on the other hand, couldn't stop chortling like and idiot.

_"Sweet Sylaise, this guy swears a lot!"_

_"Ugh. That was definitely Aedan alright."_ Leliana groaned.

_"Is the Hero of Ferelden always so...profane?"_ Josephine asked rather stunned. Her hand was shaking so bad she threatened to drop her quill.

_"Actually, no."_ Leliana answered honestly. _"Usually, Aedan isn't so cordial."_

_"Why would the Hero of Ferelden be so opposed to his own Order? That seems beyond odd to me."_ Rajmael inquired.

Oghren shifted uncomfortably in his seat. _"Commander Cousland has...seen things. Things some Warden, and other people, are willing to do to stop the Blights. And they weren't pretty. Some lines shouldn't be crossed."_

_"I have seen some of the things Oghren refers to."_ Leliana informed. _"At Soldier's Peak and in the Deep Roads. I fully understand Aedan's fears."_

_"That can't be. There's no way the Wardens would ever do anything to endanger the world. Our sole purpose for living is to save people."_ Blackwall denied.

_"Corypheus himself is a darkspawn, and supposedly one of the seven who breached the Golden City. Perhaps the Grey Wardens have insight that we don't possess."_ Dorian suggested.

_"Either way, we need to find Stroud and Hawke. Find out the truth, and what is really going on."_ The Inquisitor stated.

_"Oghren and I will accompany you. We've received no word or intelligence from the Order in Orlais for far too long. And they have not answered our calls. It's time we had some answers as well."_ Nathaniel affirmed.

_"Then let's waste no time. Let's get to Crestwood."_

**Meanwhile, In Crestwood...**

It had been almost a week since Hawke sent word to Nathaniel at Vigil's Keep. He himself had arrived here not all that long ago after Stroud sent him word about his whereabouts. Surely he must have gotten it to the Inquisitor by now. But Hawke had been adamantly clear that only Nathaniel and one other person he trusted must deliver that news to the Inquisitor. Seeing as how Nathaniel would have to travel all the way from Vigil's Keep to Skyhold alone, Hawke knew it wouldn't be an immediate journey, but he also knew Nathaniel was a capable man and he would get the job done. For now, he would keep watch on the outskirts of Crestwood and make sure that no one followed him, or find Stroud.

It was raining heavily right now. Rain, snow and wind was a constant thing in Ferelden. Hawke had been gone from his native homeland for so long he'd forgotten how much he'd missed the cold and bracing weather of Ferelden. Back in Kirkwall it was always hot and the air always smelled of body odor from all the people being so close together in the crowded city, the stench of the sewers and Dark Town beneath them, and the overbearing scent of the sea and incensed perfumes trying to cover it all up. Hawke, Bethany and Aveline had to fight their gag reflexes and try not to puke from the very smell of the air their first few weeks in Kirkwall. But here...the air was cold and the rain made it smell fresh. And then there was that familiar scent of wet dog that all Fereldans knew. Hawke wished he could have returned to Ferelden under better circumstances. He came back to his country the same way he left: as a man on the run.

All these feelings of nostalgia made Hawke think of the friends and loved ones he'd left behind. Hawke pulled out the necklace that hung around his neck and looked at the trinkets that hung from it, each an item from those he loved most. His mother's wedding ring, a band of gold with the image of a swan set in diamonds that was enchanted by his father. He kept with him ever since his mother died in his arms. The sylvanwood ring that depicted the Great Betrayal he gave to Merrill, his vhenan. She gave it back to him so that he would always know to return to her. The Rivaini talisman that depicted a naked woman before a sun and moon. A gift from Isabela to remind him of all the times they shared together, and would continue to share, and it was enchanted by a Rivaini seer to protect him from demons. Just thinking about the night he shared with the two women he loved when they gave him these threatened to give him a nose bleed. Then there was the amulet with his family's crest that Bethany fashioned for him before Aveline took her away from the Free Marches.

More than anything in the world, he wanted to be with them again, his sister and the two women who held his heart. To laugh with Varric and Aveline, he even, somehow, managed to miss Fenris' bitching. Everything Hawke did and had ever done was for his friends and loved ones. He unleashed Corypheus and helped bring ruin to the world. Now he had to make it right before he could ever be with his loved ones again.

Hawke saw someone approaching him from a distance in the rain. He could only make out their silhouettes, the rain and darkness made it difficult to see. Judging from the way they strode and stood couldn't there was no way they could have been any villager or fisherman. Soldiers? No, if it were anyone from the military they'd have been here to assist the village, and they certainly wouldn't show up in such few numbers. Hawke's sword hand began to twitch, were these the bandits from Caer Bronach? No. No mere bandits could wear such well crafted armor. Hawke could see them now, and his sword hand was now itching to be used. These were no bandits or soldiers: it was the Wardens.

There were four of them, a scouting party. They were being led by a man of veteran age wearing an open-faced helm and carrying a well crafted dwarven sword. Then there was a plain looking woman with fair hair strapped with daggers and a compact crossbow strapped to her waist, definitely a rogue-type fighter. Then there was a taller man with dusky skin with a large war hammer slung over his shoulder. And finally, there was narrow faced man, probably Orlesian judging from that fancy rapier and ridiculously curled mustache waxed under his nose.

_"Garret Hawke! The Order of the Grey has strict orders for the arrest and detainment of Warden Stroud. And we know that you have been corresponding with this rogue Warden."_ The Senior Warden ordered._ "You are to come with us and tell us everything you know concerning Stroud's whereabouts."_

_"Please come peacefully. We have nothing but respect for you, and only want to bring Stroud in for his own good and the good of the Order."_ The fair haired lady Warden insisted.

Shit. Hawke should have anticipated that having him and Stroud in the same place would attract unwelcome attention. One of the villagers in Crestwood must have spotted Hawke and told these Wardens where he was. This would complicate things. But Hawke wasn't going to back down. _"No, I refuse."_

_"Serrah Hawke, please, be reasonable..."_

_"I am under no obligation to you; your Rite of Conscription means nothing to me. And I will not be forced into anything against my will."_ Hawke said dangerously.

_"What you desire matters little, our orders still stand. You can come with us willingly, or we can take you in."_ The Senior Warden warned.

There it was, right there. That same callous disregard that Warden Janeka had when she sent the Carta to attack his family. How she cared only about releasing Corypheus so that she could use him as a damned weapon, regardless of what lives they destroyed. And it was the same unapologetic attitude Larius had when he threatened his father into using bloodmagic. These Wardens had that same blind disregard, and Hawke wasn't going to yield to it.

Hawke's hand rested on the his greatsword, Celebrant._ "And now you've got two choices: you can either leave now, or you're not leaving at all."_

The Senior Warden drew his silverite sword. _"Our orders are clear. You are to...Gagkh!"_

Within a split second, Hawke unsheathed the Celebrant from his shoulder and swung it horizontally at the Senior Warden before he could even finish his threat. The black blade of The Champion cut through the Warden's silverite armor like it was paper and cut through the man's abdominal muscles, intestines and spine like they were nothing, cleaving him perfectly in half at the waist. The Senior Warden's intestines, stomach and spleen poured out of his torso, while a fountain of blood erupted from his still standing waist.

"You bastard!" The fair-haired rogue screeched. In her rage, lunged at Hawke with incredible speed, trying to stab his eyes out. The Champion ducked beneath and quickly snatched the compact crossbow from her waist as she jumped over him. The instant her feet touched the ground, she came face to face with her own crossbow in Hawke's hand. The bolt went straight between her eyes and out the back of her head.

The remaining to with the rapier and the hammer came at the Champion simultaneously. Hawke narrowly dodged the immense hammer head, but got right into the swordsman's reach and line of attack. Hawke allowed the swordsman's blade to hit him. The thin rapier couldn't pierce Hawke's masterfully crafted Champion Armor, and snapped in half. Hawke caught the broken sword tip out of mid-air and threw it like a dagger into the massive Warden's throat. The Warden grabbed his neck and fell to the ground as his last breath gurgled out of his mouth. The last Warden with the stupid mustache reached for a dagger in the small of his back, but before he could pull it out, Hawke's greatsword came down through his head, splitting his skull, and his stupid mustache in half.

Hawke pulled his sword out the Warden's chest where his stroke stopped. The rain washed their darkspawn tainted blood off his sword. Hawke realized this was going to cause more problems than it would solve. When the Warden realize that these scouts failed to return they'll send more people to find them. But neither Hawke nor Stroud could afford to abandon this place. Hawke knew that the Inquisitor would be coming here looking for them both. They just needed to wait a little longer.

The first thing Hawke needed to do was dispose of these bodies. He had heard that there was a wyvern nearby here. He would dump the bodies near its lair and make it seem like the wyvern had killed them. Hopefully that would be enough to fool the other Wardens for a little while longer. He just wished the Inquisitor would get here faster.

**Sometime Later...**

It had been a few days since Nathaniel delivered the Rajmael the news about Hawke waiting for them in Crestwood. On their way there, they were met up another Grey Warden. Another dwarf, casteless Carta judging from her elaborate tattoos. Both Nathaniel and Oghren seemed surprise to see her.

_"Sigrun!? I thought you went on your Calling."_ Nathaniel said accusingly.

_"What can I say? I love seeing that look on your face whenever I come back unexpectedly."_ The dwarven scout laughed. _"It's not my fault you keep falling for it."_

_"He-he-he. Don't worry, Sigrun. I never get tired of seeing you. Especially when it's a surprise."_ Oghren chuckled lecherously, making Sigrun groan in disgust.

_"How did you know where to find us? anyway?"_ Nathaniel asked.

_"Oh, Seneschal Garevel told me. And I'm a scout, remember? Finding people is what I do."_ Sigrun turned her attention to Rajmael. _"And this must be the Inquisitor. Wow, you've got really pretty eyes. And does that glowing hand of yours make shaking hands difficult?" Sigrun's eyes went as wide as saucers and gasped like it was her last breath. "Eeehhh! Oh, my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh! You're Varric Tethras! Sweet Ancestors, I love your books! Can you sign my helmet? Please!?"_

_"Anything for a fan."_ Varric chuckled as he happily obliged.

_"Ooh! Your chest hair is even more masculine than I imagined."_ Sigrun giggled.

_"Hey, I got some hair you can run your fingers through, sexy lady."_ Oghren said suggestively.

_"Ugh! I'm afraid of what I'll find hanging, sticking, or living in your hair, Oghren."_ Sigrun said with a grossed look on her face.

With the newly arrived Warden accompanying them, they found the village of Crestwood was being overrun by demons, and bandits were preying on the helpless. The Inquisitor couldn't leave the people like this, but unfortunately the Rift that was sending the demons was under the freaking lake. They had to clear out the keep of Caer Bronach in order to reach the dam and drain the lake so that they could get to the Rift. Mayor Cedric seemed apprehensive to accept their help.

Rajmael and his companions witnessed first hand what Nathaniel and Oghren were capable of. They decimated the bandits in Caer Bronach and the demons in the tunnels like killing them was old hat. Rajmael had never seen dwarven berserkers before; Oghren summoned a rage within himself that surpassed any giant's, and he wielded that war hammer of his like it weighed nothing as he crushed their bodies and flattened their heads.

Sigrun was a sneaky, but tenacious fighter, and had no problems fighting dirty. She wore very heavy armor for a rogue, but she moved like she was wearing regular day clothes. In one hand she carried a heavy hand-axe, in the other a sharp dirk, and she wielded both to vicious affect, hitting every in their joints, vital areas, and the really sensitive bits. She laughed at their enemies , even the demons like this was just a walk in the park to her. She had absolutely no fear of death or pain.

Nathaniel's mastery of the bow was so great it was almost elven, but not quite. Every shot made its mark, no arrow was wasted as he fired in rapid succession into the heads, hearts and vital areas of every bandits, beast and demon they came across. Oghren was like a madman drunk on bloodlust, while Nathaniel was a cold as ice, focused only on the task at hand. Being former comrades and brothers in arms to Aedan Cousland, Rajmael had no doubt that these two Wardens must've killed every manner of thug, demon, maleficar and monstrosity that ever existed. Rajmael remembered all the demons and Venatori he saw The Hero of Ferelden kill with just his bare hands and his teeth when he was in that future in Redcliffe. The mere memory of that man murdering everything in sight still sent a shiver up his spine.

With the dam freed, they were able to drain the waters that flooded Old Crestwood and reach the rift in the tunnels. And while they were at it, they discovered that during the Blight ten years ago, Mayor Cedric herded all the villagers who had been infected with the Blight into those tunnels and flooded the village while they were in it. Everyone who was not infected was taken away from there, but those who were, suffered the horrible fate of drowning in the dark of those tunnels. He did it to save the rest of the village, but lied to them for ten years saying that it was the darkspawn who flooded and drowned their families. And like a guilty man, Cedric ran before Rajmael could confront him. No matter. Rajmael would have Leliana track him down and bring him to Skyhold to face judgment. But that was a matter for another time. For now, they had to make their way to that old smuggler's den and find Hawke and Stroud.

While they made their way some of Rajmael's companions took the opportunity to chat up the two national heroes that were in their midst.

_"So...you're a Warrior from the Warrior Caste. Abandoned by his Paragon wife, and left Orzammar to join a great Hero on a quest to save the world, and with no other purpose in life, you deiced to join the Order."_ Varric listed to Oghren.

_"You writin' a book or somethin', ya beardless cloud-gazer?"_ Oghren grunted.

_"Well, I'm thinking about it. There's not a whole dwarven heroes in human literature, and yours seems like it'd be a great foundation for a story that'll grab everyone's attention."_ Varric answered.

_"Really? Huh. Be sure to capture my heroic charisma and godlike battle prowess. And maybe throw in a couple of chariots pulled by trained mabari war hounds, that'll get everyone's attention."_

_"Don't get your hopes up so quickly. There's still some personal adjustments I need to censure and edit out."_ Varric informed.

_"Yeah."_ Sigrun agreed jokingly. _"Like the lack of personal hygiene, excessive drinking and inebriation, the lecherousness and being an all around sod with a hammer?"_

_"And that's just to start."_ The two dwarves laughed at Oghren while grumbled under his breath. He decided to ignore Varric and continued to stare sternly at Iron Bull.

Iron Bull could feel Oghren staring at him. The dwarf's gaze, and odor didn't sit well with the giant mercenary. _"There are reason you keep looking at me, runt?"_

_"I used to know a qunari called Sten. He was as loud and as fun as a tomb, but he knew how to swing a sword. 'Cept he had no horns."_

_"Yeah, not all of us are born with horns. Guys like him are usually believed to have some great destiny or purpose for them."_ Iron Bull informed.

_"Heard ya were...what'd they call it? Ben's-Got-Wrath?"_

_"It's Ben-Hessrath. But, yeah, I used to be. Why? You heard of us?"_

_"You could say that. A little bit after the trouble in Amaranthine, some of your guys broke into Vigil's Keep and tried to assassinate Dworkin Glavinok for creating explosives. It didn't end too well those guys."_ Oghren answered grimly.

Iron Bull shifted uncomfortably. _"Oh. Yeah, I heard about that. The Ariqun wanted explosives to be a secret known only to qunari. What...er...what happened to those guys?"_

_"They were stupid and sorry enough to piss off Aedan sodding Cousland, that's what."_ Oghren grunted. _"Ya see, they killed several members of Keep's staff trying to get to Dwarkin, and The Commander was none too happy about that. So he had their hands and feet cut off with flaming hot axes, and thrown to a pack of angry war hounds."_

_"Vashedan."_ Iron Bull cursed under his breath._ "I heard that guy had a few bats in his belfry."_

_"Hey, if anyone's stupid enough to get on that man's badside, I say ya deserve to die. That man's a Paragon of Destruction."_ Oghren bragged.

_"Believe it or not, by a freak accident I've actually seen Aedan Cousland in action."_ Dorian confessed. _"I certainly wouldn't want to get on his bad side"_

_"Oh, trust me, the two of you'd already be on his bad side the instant he saw."_ Oghren chuckled. _"The last time he saw a mage from Tevinter, that sorry duster was kidnapping elves from the Alienage to sell as slaves. Aedan peeled that guy's bald head like an orange after biting his top slaver's throat out. If you were lucky, he'd just kill ya both."_

_"And if we were unlucky?"_ Dorian asked nervously.

_"He'd kill ya real slowly."_

Dorian and Iron Bull became stiff and rigid as their minds flooded with the various kinds of horrible execution. Just the very thought of what Aedan Cousland could do to them sent a shiver straight through their very souls.

While Dorian and Iron Bull were wondering what possible methods of death at the hands of the Hero of Ferelden, Nathaniel tried to converse with his fellow Warden, Blackwall.

_"So, you're Warden Blackwall of Val Chevin? The Constable of the Grey?"_ Nathaniel asked.

_"Yes, that's me. Why do you ask?"_ Blackwall inquired as though he were being interrogated.

_"I heard about you some time after I joined the Order. I heard how tried to fight back against Loghain's decree of keeping the Wardens out of Ferelden. After seeing what happened to my homeland when I returned, I wish you succeeded."_

_"I tried my best, I really did. Blight's are we Wardens are supposed to be here for. Loghain had no right to keep us from our duty."_ Blackwall lamented.

_"Do you...do you feel that some of our brothers and sisters have wasted their lives after being denied the chance to combat the Blight? And now whatever it is that Corypheus might be doing with them?"_

_"No."_ The Constable of The Grey stated as fact. _"We've devoted ourselves to a righteous cause, and the only time our brothers and sisters will have died in vain is if we forget that cause."_

As the two Wardens were conversing, Sera couldn't stop giving Nathaniel the stink eye. Ever since they cleared out Caer Bronach, almost everyone had been saying how great of an archer he was. And it was pissing her off.

_"So...Nathaniel, you're a noble."_ Sera said with distaste in her mouth.

"That sounds more like an accusation than an observation." Nathaniel noticed. "But, yes. I was a noble."

_"That's real weird. You ain't like most nobles I know. Most nobles I know don't do nothin' but laze around and bark orders and people all day while being pampered like they own the world."_

_"Well, that's because you've spent far too much time in Orlais. In this country, we don't have time for such trivialities."_ Nathaniel scoffed. _"You'd know that if you weren't so busy looking for trouble."_

_"Yeah, well, pickings are better in Orlais. They're bigger pricks with fatter purses."_ Sera admitted

_"I must admit I'm surprised, Warden-Commander Howe, that you would even join the Wardens. Given the unfortunate fate they brought upon your family."_ Vivienne stated indifferently.

Nathaniel flashed Vivienne a deathly glare. _"Be very careful how you speak of my family, Enchanter."_

_"Oh, have I caused offense? Do forgive me, I was merely curious as to why you would join the Order responsible for your family's downfall. From what the stories state, The Hero of Ferelden showed your father no mercy."_ The Imperial Enchanter's tone was still laced with disrespect.

_"My father...earned his fate, and everything that happened to my family was his fault. And the Howes have not fallen yet. There are those of us who still remember what nobility is."_

_"Oh, yes. I'm sure you think so."_ Vivienne said with fake sincerity, and Nathaniel knew it, but would not be baited. _"You knew that maleficar who started the Mage Rebellion, did you not? Anders, I believe?"_

An air of forboding fell upon the Wardens, and their eyes all turned to Vivienne at the mere mention of that name. Obviously, she touched a soft spot with all of them.

_"We fought together during the Amaranthine Crisis, yes. What about him?"_

_"I'm curious as to what kind of man he was. As his former companion you must have surely known what kind of madness he was capable of."_ Vivienne said condescendingly.

Nathaniel had enough and turned to face the disrespectful mage. _"Anders was a healer, and a good man who wanted to live in peace, but people like you wouldn't leave him alone. While you were sipping fruity drinks, and rubbing elbows with the nobility, he was fighting alongside us to protect this nation. I was proud to call him my comrade."_

_"Keep it up lady, and I'll put something you don't want where you don't want it."_ Sigrun warned.

_"Not if I break her legs first."_ Oghren said dangerously.

_"Enough!"_ Rajmael ordered. _"I will not have infighting amongst my allies and companions!"_

_"A most sensible attitude, dear."_ Vivienne said haughtily.

_"Vivienne, bring up the rear."_ The Inquisitor ordered.

_"Pardon me?"_

_"I said bring up the rear. I'm tired of listening to you being an utter bitch for the sake of being an utter bitch. Now get going!"_ Rajmael glared at her until she finally obeyed, and still she walked with that sense of arrogance in her step.

Sensing the need to defuse the situation before there was a fatality between the Wardens and Vivienne, Cassandra decided to finally satisfy her curiosity with a question that had been bothering her for a while._ "Warden Nathaniel, what can you tell me about the Hero of Ferelden? I keep hearing varying tales about him, but I have no way of knowing which ones are true."_

_"I wasn't with Aedan during the Blight, and all things considering, I'm glad I wasn't."_ Nathaniel sighed. _"You'd have a better time asking Sister Nightingale or Oghren."_

_"I would, but Leliana is always apprehensive to speak about it, and she's been rather...withdrawn since the Divine's death. And I can't trust if what that dwarf says is true, or just something he conjured in drunken haze."_

_"Fair enough."_ Nathaniel took a moment to think. _"What can I say? He loved being a Fereldan, and loved this country almost like it was his god. Everything you've heard about his brutality and ferocity is true. The man was a walking apocalypse with anger issues. He was the most vicious man I ever met, but he was also the best man I ever met._

_"But he did such terrible things to people, both you and Leliana have said as much."_ Cassandra stated.

_"Well, no one's perfect. He killed people in horrible ways so that no one else would threaten what he tried to protect."_ Nathaniel explained. _"And given the dire circumstances that surrounded him, I doubt blame him. He was capable of fearsome loyalty and terrible vengeance. And he would have gone to the ends of the world for what he cared for. He...embodied everything that was great and terrifying in Ferelden."_

_"I...I only ask because...Would he have agreed to become Inquisitor if we asked it of him?"_

There was an awkward silence with a lone cricket chirping somewhere in the background. Then all three Wardens busted out laughing as if the Seeker just said a really funny joke.

_"You're joking right!? Ya gotta be sodding joking!"_ Oghren guffawed while holding his sides.

_"Hey! Hey, Seeker, while you're at it, why don't ask him to tongue-kiss a broodmother! That's just as likely to happen!"_ Sigrun said between laughs and snorts.

Cassandra stood there, stiff as a board, with a slight blush in her face, feeling like she just made a complete ass out of herself.

Nathaniel finally regained his composure and wiped a tear from his eye. _"I'm sorry, milady. But if you actually knew Aedan Cousland, you'd realize just how ridiculously funny that question is. No, Aedan would probably have laughed at you harder than we did just now."_

_"I...had heard that had disregard for religion, but surely he would have joined with what was at stake."_ Cassandra insisted.

_"I think he would have surprised you, Seeker."_ Nathaniel answered._ "And Aedan didn't have disregard for religion, he flat out hated it. To quote the Hero of Ferelden 'he hates anything that would force itself on to another man, and force him to his knees'."_

_"Hey, remember that time the Grand Cleric in Amaranthine called Aedan's mother a failure as a parent and an Andrastian for raising a heathen like him?"_ Sigrun reminded.

_"Oh, yeah. He sent that old biddy flyin' across the room. Heard she couldn't eat solid food for six months, and was too scared to do her sermons for a year!"_ Oghren laughed.

_"No, my lady. There's not a doubt in my mind that Aedan would never have aided you or the Divine."_ Nathaniel continued. _"Knowing him, he'd have sat back and watched as the Chantry burned to the ground and laughed at those trying to gather up the ashes."_

Cassandra wasn't convinced. _"Even with the world ending around him, you truly think someone with his accomplishments, who you revere as a leader and hero, wouldn't have lifted a finger to help?"_

_"Not unless you convinced him that everything he would do was for Ferelden."_

_"Not just Ferelden, but for the whole world!"_

Nathaniel stopped in his tracks. _"Do you really think what happens to the rest of the world matters to him? If you do, then you're sorely mistaken. He hates anything that opposes the ideals of this nation, or those who would threaten. Orlais, Tevinter, the Qun, he'd kill them all to keep this kingdom safe. This country is all that matters to him. His love for this country goes beyond patriotism. Ferelden is his god, and he fight only in her name."_

Cassandra felt a sting of disappointment inside her, she had truly hoped the Hero of Ferelden was someone they could have relied on. But at the same time, she couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for him. _"I...I see. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. His devotion to his country sounds remarkable. I wish I could feel the same for mine."_

_"It can't be that bad not having the Hero of Ferelden. You could have done far worse."_ Nathaniel insisted. _"Aedan once told me that there was nothing more fearsome than a pissed off Dalish elf with access to powerful magic that only they have knowledge of. And from what I heard about Inquisitor Lavellan, I'd say you came out on top."_

_"She tries to come out on top. Every time they're in bed!"_ Sera laughed. Most of the others started snickering under their breath while Cassandra blushed and shot Sera a dangerous glare.

Rajmael loved seeing Cassandra blush, she looked so cut when she was embarrassed. While everyone was taking this time to chat up their new Warden allies, Rajmael decided to take this as an opportunity to satisfy his own curiosity.

_"Nathaniel, what can you tell me about this Warden Stroud. Do you know him?"_

_"I've met him only a few times, but I mostly know him through reputation. And it's a formidable reputation, indeed."_ Nathaniel answered. _"From what I've heard when I was squiring in the Free Marches, and when I was traveling the Deep Roads that Hawke and Varric discovered I learned a little bit more about him. He was from minor noble Orlesian family, and was top of his class in the Academie de Chevalier. But his whole family got caught up in the merciless machinations of the Orlesian Grand Game and were wiped out."_

_"And this is why people hate Orlesians. They treat murder and fratricide like it was a game, and reward murderer while spitting on the victims."_ Rajmael said with disgust.

_"And that's the truth."_ Nathaniel agreed. _"Anyway, not willing to let one of their best students lose his life to the Game like the rest of his family, Stroud's instructors called in Clarel de Chanson, who recruited him to the Order. Stroud has since cemented his reputation as the best swordsman in the Order and has trained many Wardens over the years. I'd say half the Wardens in Orlais were trained by him."_

_"Sounds like he should be in grand standing with the Order."_

_"You'd think so, but for the past few months, it seems that he's committed some crime against the Order."_ Nathaniel shook his own head disbelief._ "I don't know what happened exactly, but it seems like the Orlesian Wardens were hunting him for some reason, but then all contact with them just ceased. Even after I tried to contact Warden-Commander Clarel, I got no response."_

_"Yeah, that could be because your predecessor left quite the impression on her."_ Rajmael laughed as he remembered the impression Aedan left on him.

_"Yes. He always did have that effect."_ Nathaniel agreed.

**A Short Time Later...**

_"This is it. This is where we are to meet Ser Hawke."_ Nathaniel pointed to a cave they were approaching. An as they got close, sure enough, there was Hawke, every inch of him, waiting for them.

_"I'm glad you got my letter, Nathaniel. I have to admit, I was beginning to think none of you were coming."_ Hawke sighed with relief.

_"Well, what can I say? Saving Crestwood from certain doom is time consuming."_ Rajmael chuckled.

_"I'm glad you were able to help them, but while I was waiting I was discovered by several Wardens who tracked me here. They left me no choice but to kill them."_

_"We ran into a few of them as well, but they gave us no trouble."_

Hawke grunted angrily. _"Then they know they're getting close to finding us. Quickly, we must see what Stroud has to tell us."_

Hawke and the others made their way into the cave, they'd been waiting for sometime for this kind of information, they needed to have it now. As Rajmael took a look around the cave, never noticed or heard the highly trained footsteps of the master swordsman walking behind him. But he did hear the ringing of dwarven steel being unsheathed. Rajmael's own hand rested on his sword, ready to kill whoever was behind him.

_"You're going to look awful silly with that dwarven sword shoved up your ass."_ Rajmael warned. He slowly turned to see a man in his late forties to early fifties holding a worn, but very sharp dwarven longsword at him. His greying hair was close cropped with the side shaved and had a thick hongroise styled mustache right beneath his nose. From the way this man was standing, and held his sword, Rajmael knew this guy was definitely a master swordsman. This must have been the Warden they were looking for.

_"Easy!"_ Hawke bade the swordsman. _"It's just me, and this is Inquisitor."_

_"My name is Stroud, and I am at you service, Your Worship."_ The Warden said with a thick Orlesian accent as he sheathed his sword and respectfully saluted the Inquisitor.

Rajmael took his own hand off his sword. _"Glad to hear it, because I could use all the help I can get. What can you tell me about what's been going on with the Wardens? Does it have anything to do with Corypheus?"_

_"I'm afraid is has everything to do with Corypheus."_ Stroud answered dismally. _"When Hawke here slew Corypheus in the Vimmark Mountains, Weishaupt was content to just put the matter to rest. But an Archdemon can survive wounds that seem fatal, and I feared Corypheus might posses the same power. I discovered clues, but no proof, and was ordered to drop the investigation. Then, every Warden in Orlais began to hear the calling."_

A shocked and outraged look came over Hawke. _"What? This whole time we've been working together, you chose to keep that from me? Do you realize how many questions we might have answered if we knew that?!"_

_"I am sorry, Hawke, but it was a Grey Warden Matter. And I was bound by an oath of secrecy."_ Stroud said apologetically.

Rajmael remembered reading about the Calling in some of the books he read at Skyhold. _"The Calling signals the end of Grey Warden's life. Like a siren's call, it beckons to them against their will."_

_"All the Wardens in Orlais hearing that right now? They think they're dying."_ Hawke finished.

_"Yes. And I think it has everything to do with Corypheus."_ Stoud confirmed. _"If the Wardens fall, who will stand against the next Blight? That is our greatest fear."_

_"And Corypheus is manipulating their fear to make them do something desperate, foolish and likely involving some form of forbidden magic. Am I right?"_ Hawke demanded.

There were other questions Rajmael wanted answered._ "Wait a minute, Corypheus is a darkspawn, likely one of the first of them, how can you not know what he is or what he is capable of?"_

_"I am sorry, but even as a Senior Warden, I've only heard the vaguest whispers of Corypheus."_ Stroud answered. _"From what Hawke has told me, he seems to possess the same ability to call those tainted with the Blight like an Achdemon. And like the darkspawn, we Wardens are tied to the Blight, and we feel the voice of the Archdemon just as the darkspawn do. That must be how Corypheus created this false Calling. But the Wardens all think this Calling is real, that is all I am certain of."_

_"What about you, all of you, are you hearing this Calling now?"_ Rajmael asked in concern for all Wardens present.

_"Sadly, yes. I feel it like a wolf circling around a campfire."_ Stroud answered dismally. _"Whatever creature created it, does not know the love or light of the Maker, but at times...I can almost make out the words. We must uncover what Corypheus has done, and put an end to it. This cannot stand."_

_"I don't fear the Calling. And worrying about it only gives it power. If anything, it will only strengthen my resolve."_ Blackwall said confidently.

"We've been Wardens for over ten years now. We all hear the faintest glimmer of the Calling anyway." Nathaniel informed.

_"Sometimes, I like to try dancing to it."_ Sigrun said with her chipper tone.

_"Bah! I'm too used to being buzzed for some darkspawn lullaby to bother me."_ Oghren scoffed.

_"None of that answers my question, Stroud."_ Hawke interjected angrily. _"What idiotic plan are the Wardens going to attempt that Corypheus is manipulating them to do?"_

Stroud sighed sadly, as though someone close had hurt him. _"Wardens are the only ones capable of slaying Archdemons. Without us, the next Blight will consume the world, and their will be no Aedan Cousland to save it."_ Stroud looked at them as though he were confessing a crime. _"Warden-Commander Clarel spoke of a blood ritual to prevent further Blights from happening before we all perish. When I protested the plan as madness, my own comrades turned on me."_

_"I fucking knew it!"_ Hawke spat. _"Anytime you Wardens are backed up into a corner, you use any method and excuse to come out on top, no matter how horrible, and you always use the Blight as your excuse! Just like when you threatened my mother and blackmailed my father to make him seal Corypheus for you!"_

_"This is exactly why The Hero of Ferelden didn't trust Warden-Commander Clarel in the first place."_ Nathaniel said damningly. _"There are lines even we are not supposed to cross! How can the Wardens of Orlais do something so insane?"_

_"This is a discussion for another time, Warden-Commander Howe. Time is of the essence."_ Stroud evaded. _"I have just learned that the Wardens are gathering here, in the Western Approach. They are using some ancient Tevinter ritual tower. For what I purpose, I am uncertain. But if we are to discover what they are planning, then we must go there now. I suggest we split up and rendezvous there so that no one sees us coming. I will scout ahead and send word if anything happens."_

As Stroud left the cave, Rajmael took a good look at the coordinates on the map. The ritual tower was not far from Griffon Wing Keep, right on the edge of the Abyssal Reach. Just looking at that spot on the map reminded Rajmael why the Wardens were so important. It was from that giant anus in the earth, the darkspawn poured out of their like an ocean of black evil and covered half of Thedas, and only the Wardens were able to drive them back and end the Blight. For centuries, every culture, even his people regarded the Wardens with respect. But now they were allying with Corypheus, the embodiment of the very threat they were suppose to be defending the world against, but now, they were doing his bidding. The Grey Wardens consisted of some of the greatest warriors, tacticians and mages in all of Thedas, and now, Rajmael may very well need to bring all the might the Inquisition could must to crush them, despite all the sacrifices this Order had done for a thankless world. All Rajmael could say right now was...

_"Where the fuck is Aedan Cousland when you need him?"_

**Language Codex:**

**Mo Siuile Orga Whurnin:** Ancient Alamarii, translates as _"Golden-Eyed Darling."_

**Vashedan:** Qunlat, translates as _"Crap"_ or _"Trash"._

**Author's Note:**

Alright, so now we've got a new arc starting, and a lot of cameo appearances. Sorry there wasn't a whole lot of violence in this chapter. There's going to be a lot more cameos, and lot more blood and guts in the upcoming chapters, I can promise you that. I own and claim nothing. Please review.


	23. Betrayal of The Grey: Part II

**Betrayal of The Grey: Part II**

The Western Approach was one of the most dangerous regions in Southern Thedas. An inhospitibal desert with sulfur pits, infested with varghests, phoenixes, quillbacks, not to mention the Rifts, and now dragons. Everything that wasn't you, wants to kill you, be it the plants, animals, even the very sun. And smack in the middle of that blistering wasteland with all its dangerous creatures was the Abyssal Reach. A massive crevice in the earth where the darkspawn flooded out of the Deep Roads like a black sea of evil that spread to half of Thedas in the Second Blight. The only creatures strong or insane enough to tread this wasteland was the Wardens. But right now, Rajmael wasn't sure who he should be more worried about. The darkspawn who always crawl up from the Abyssal Reach, or the Wardens who were supposed to be the world's first line of defense against he tainted monstrosities.

Rajmael and his companions, followed by Warden-Commander Nathaniel, first made their way to Griffon Wing Keep, recently liberated from the Venatori when the Inquisition disrupted their activities in this region. What the Inquisition didn't account for was the possibility of the Venatori being amongst the Grey Wardens. And right now, that was probably a bigger threat than solving the Orlesian civil war. The Orlesian Empire couldn't even pacify the Fereldans when they annexed that country for eighty years, whereas the Wardens have been the only warriors capable of ending Blights for over two thousand years, and were capable of more destruction than any empire could ever do. Rajmael could not let the Wardens be used in Corypheus' schemes.

All of them made their way over to wear the ancient ritual tower, but it was no wonder why it they had never seen it before. This building was so old and so decrepit it was not even appropriate to call it a ritual tower. It was more like a ritual lobby. By the time they got there, Hawke and Stroud were already waiting for them.

_"Good. You're here, and just in time, too."_ Hawke welcomed.

_"I fear we may have come too late. The ritual has already begun."_ Stroud informed._ "We must move now."_

_"Seems like bloodmagic. You can tell by the smell of corpses in this Maker-forsaken heat."_ Hawke informed damningly.

"Hawke, Stroud, you two come with me and my companions. Nathaniel, I want you and yours to sneak around and flank them if things get ugly_." Rajmael ordered._

_"I hope that won't be necessary, but we won't let you down if it is."_ Nathaniel promised.

Nathaniel and Sigrun scaled the ruined walls and hid their presence while Oghren snuck around the walls to make sure nobody would get the drop on them. And as they entered the tower they found that this blood ritual the Wardens were attempting had already begun.

A lone Warden stood before his brothers, he looked frightened as they stared at him like this was some kind of tribunal...or an execution, judging from the pile of dead Wardens now rotting in the sun. But what really caught Rajmael's attention was the demons just standing their like they were waiting for something. But more disturbingly, the demons were standing side-by-side with the Wardens. This was beyond bizarre.

The lone Warden looked at his fellows with frantic desperation as one of his brothers in arms held a knife to him. "No! Stop! Brothers, can't you see this is insanity!"

A tall foreigner dressed in Tevinter-styled mage armor emerged on the ruined steps behind the frightened Warden. He had a long mustache and goatee hanging from his smiling mouth, and a look of sheer arrogance in his eyes. _"Warden-Commander Clarel's orders were clear."_

_"No. This is wrong. This is evil!"_ The lone Warden protested.

_"What is that motto of your?"_ The Tevinter asked sarcastically. _"In, war victory. In peace, vigilance. In death...sacrifice?"_

_"I'm sorry. It's for the Order."_ The knife-wielding Warden whispered as he stabbed his brother in arms through the back and into his heart. The instant the unfortunate man's blood touched the ground, it swirled into a crimson vortex, and from the vortex emerged a flaming Rage Demon.

_"Now, bind the demon just as I showed you."_ The Tevinter ordered.

The Warden mage lifted his hand to the infernal spirit of rage and beam of green magical energy connected to the demon, and calmed it. It must have been some kind of binding spell utilized through blood magic, but the magical energy seemed similar to Anchor on Rajmael's own hand. Then the Tevinter mage gestured his hand toward the Warden and Demon, and some kind of sickly red aura came over them both. The Warden led the Rage Demon to the side, like well-trained pet, and the two stood with the others in rank and file.

The Tevinter mage finally noticed the Inquisitor and his entourage approaching him, and the arrogant grin on his face grew wider._ "Ah! The Inquisitor! What an unexpected pleasure. Lord Livius Erimond of Vyrantium, at your service."_ The mage gave a mocking bow.

_"You are no Warden. What are you doing here?!"_ Stroud demanded.

_"Oh. You must be the Warden that Clarel let slip."_ Erimond sighed in disappointment. _"And you went to the Inquisitor in the hopes of stopping me, is that it? Well, we'll see how that goes. You cannot fathom the power that the Elder One has granted me. With my aid he will raise a..."_

_"Please, let me stop your whole evil villain speech."_ Rajmael interrupted in annoyance. _"Let me guess: Corypheus taught you some form of ancient magic about how to bind and summon demons, and you are using the mages within the Warden ranks to summon a demon army to attack Thedas. Right? Five Royals says I'm right."_ Rajmael knew he was right. This was the demon army he learned of when he was in that future in Redcliffe. It was the demon army Corypheus meant to sweep through Orlais while it was embroiled in civil war.

There was a priceless dumbfounded look on Erimond's face._ "You...know about that? Well...good. Then you know what is coming for you, and how all your attempts to stop my master in vain."_

_"What I want to know, is how you made the Wardens kill their own brothers."_

_"Made them? Ha! The Wardens did it to themselves, of their own free will! Fear is a great motivator, and they were so very afraid."_ Erimond laughed. _"The Wardens were almost too perfect to use. They were all too eager to assist, just as the Elder One said. You should have seen Clarel agonize over the decision. The pains of leadership, I suppose."_

_"You lie!"_ Blackwall growled. _"The Wardens are heroes! They'd never seek to ally with the Blight!"_

Erimond laughed arrogantly. _"You'd like to think so, but it's amazing what people like the Wardens will do when the Blight threatens them. My master created the false Calling that now plagues these simple minded fools. The Wardens became terrified, desperate, and so I approached Warden-Commander Clarel, full of sympathy, with an offer of aid, and, together, we came up with the perfect solution. Raise a demon army with the mages within the Wardens' ranks, and with this invincible army of tireless, long living, and obedient soldiers, we can eradicate the darkspawn and Old Gods, thus preventing another Blight from ever occurring again."_

_"Oh, how benevolent. And how false."_ Hawke denounced scornfully._ "Corypheus, being of the Blight, is incapable of such righteousness."_

_"A Fereldan dog-lord has more brains than all the Grey Wardens in Orlais, I see."_ Erimond chuckled._ "Yes, sadly the binding ritual does come with a slight side-effect: They are now my master's slaves. And this here, merely a small test of their devotion and ability to complete the ritual. Once the rest of the Wardens complete this ritual, the Venatori will have an army to conquer all of Thedas. And when the Elder One rules from the Golden City, we Venatori will rule as god-kings here on Thedas."_

_"How can you possibly assist in any of this!?"_ Dorian demanded incredulously. _"Tevinter has fallen low enough as it is, do you really want to see our country, the whole world fall to the Blight?"_

_"The Elder One commands the Blight, not ruled by it, like a mindless darkspawn."_ Erimond answered. _"The Blight is not unstoppable or uncontrollable. It is merely a tool."_

_"Someone's certainly a tool."_ Varric insulted.

Erimond laughed arrogantly at the comment. _"I am the tool with which The Elder One will ascend to godhood. Something no knife-eared rattus will ever be."_

_"Hmm. Think I'm gonna kill you now."_ Rajmael finally had enough and prepared to conjure a lightning bolt to incinerate the disrespectful Venatorie.

_"No. You won't."_ Erimond raised his hand to the Inquisitor and that aura of red magic connected to the Anchor in his hand. The influx of energy was so painful it almost put Rajmael on his knees, it was as though the Anchor were being forcibly removed from his hand. _"The Elder One showed me how to deal with you, in the even you were foolish enough to interfere again. That make you bear? The Anchor that allows you to pass safely through the Veil? You stole it from my master. He has been forced to seek other methods to enter the Fade. When I deliver him back the Anchor, along with your head, his gratitude will be..."_ Rajmael stood back up and exerted his own will and magic back at Erimond. The Magister was not expecting such an attack, and paid the price when his hand erupted in an explosion of shrapnel, red mist and wet chunks of meat. **"AAAIIGH! MY HAND!" **Erimond screamed in shock and agony at the exploded, bleeding stump and shredded flesh and bone where his right hand used to be.

_"Aww. I guess you won't be playing the violin again any time soon."_ Rajmael mocked.

**"KILL THEM ALL!" **the maimed Magister ordered as he limped away.

_"Nathaniel, now!"_ Rajmael ordered. Nathaniel and Sigrun jumped from behind the ruined wall and flanked their former brothers and the demons. Nathaniel's arrows went flying straight through two Warden skulls while Sigrun pounced on a Shade demon and buried her dirk into it's dome and her axe into its face. Oghren broke through one of the ruined walls with his gargantuan war hammer, screaming like a maniac, and viciously engaged two rage demons. His hammer head swiped across both their faces and gorily smashed their faces open. Oghren fought with the legendary rage of the Orzammar Berserkers, all rage and no mercy. Sigrun's style was unknown to Rajmael. She darted and moved in the fashion of a rogue, even in that heavy armor of hers, but fought with the tenacity and deathly aim of a soldier with absolutely no regard for her own life. Nathaniel was an archer in a completely different class than Sera or Varric. Unlike those two, each shot Nathaniel made had the aim and discipline of a trained knight and soldier. He was completely calm under fire, and made every shot count, even in such close quarters.

Hawke furiously charged down the Warden mage that so coldly murdered his brother, despite his pleas, and several other mages. The possessed mages merged their magic together and conjured a massive wall of flame to engulf and devour The Champion, but he rushed through their fire spell as though it were a simple mist. Garret swung threw the Celebrant like a javelin at the murderous Warden, all five feet of the black greatsword went through its target he was made of paper, and stuck him like a pig. The Champion unstrapped his family shield from his back and unsheathed the Key-Sword from his hip and engaged the other mages. Their blood-fueled spells bounced off of his shield like rain drops, and he charged them down with the force of a battering ram and broke their bodies on his family's crest. The last one he finished off by swinging the scythe-like blade of his Key-Sword up through his right ribcage and out his left shoulder, the mage's upper body slid off his severed lower torso.

Stroud reluctantly engaged his former brothers. He darted and dodged each offensive spell and demonic attack as though he saw each move before it even happened. The demons tried to claw the Senior Warden and bite his head off, but his blade found it way into their grotesque heads and slashed through their bodies as he evaded and flowed with their movements. Before the mages had time to conjure up another spell, Stroud dashed past them and sadly severed their necks and slashed through their hearts.

Rajmael and his companions finished off what remained of the corrupted Wardens and the demons they summoned. If this happened to anyone else and not an elite group of trained killers, it would have been a disaster for common soldiers, not trained to fight demons, to stand and fight. And this wasn't even a fraction of what could be summoned. This was going to be a serious issue.

_"You were right, Hawke."_ Stroud lamented as he sheathed his sword. _"Through this ritual, the Wardens have become slaves to Corypheus' will."_

_"A ritual they willingly partook in, Stroud."_ Hawke scorned angrily as he pulled the Celebrant out of his impaled victim._ "They let themselves be blinded and fooled because of their own fears, and not once took a moment to consider the consequences!"_

_"Erimond deceived them, just like Magister Alexius deceived the mages at Redcliffe."_ Blackwall defended._ "Made them think that what they were doing was a good thing. These bastards are masters of lying to get what they want."_

_"How is allying with demons and killing your own men ever a good thing, Blackwall?"_ Dorian questioned. _"How is using demons any better than using darkspawn to fight your battles?"_

_"The Wardens were wrong, Hawke, but they had their reasons."_ Stroud tried to reason.

_"That was the same excuse Loghain Mac Tir had when he abandoned King Cailan at Ostagar."_ Hawke growled with venom and hate in his voice._ "It doesn't matter how many people you kill or sacrifice, no matter how dire the consequences, so long as you have your reasons. In the end, it's always an excuse. And unlike you, or any Warden in Orlais, Stroud, I actually know what a Blight looks like."_

_"I know what it's like to try and make hard decisions with the greater good in mind and many lives at risk."_ Nathaniel added._ "But sometimes we need to ask ourselves what the cost could be."_

_"If Aedan Cousland saw any of this, Clarel would die in screaming agony. Maybe she still will."_ Oghren said with contempt.

_"This...this isn't right. Wardens are supposed to stand with each other, not kill each other."_ Sigrun spoke sorrowfully as she looked at the bodies of the sacrificed Wardens.

_"It's as I've always said, any mage outside the Circle cannot be trusted to use magic responsibly."_ Vivienne scoffed.

_"In death, sacrifice. Blessed are those who stand against the darkness and do not falter. These were the reasons they chose to die."_ Cole recited as he looked at the dead forlornly._ "They wanted to do something good, and their brothers killed them, even the ones who said no."_

_"We have a bigger worry right now than why the Wardens did this."_ Rajmael announced. _"Right now we should be more concerned about the big fucking army of demons the Wardens are going to summon for Corypheus, and what we're going to do about. Don't you think?"_

_"I believe I know where the Wardens are, Inquisitor. Adamant Fortress."_ Stroud answered._ "Erimond was headed in that direction and it's only place big enough to house all the Wardens where they can conduct their ritual in secret. Where they can raise an army without alerting any nations."_

_"Oh, merciful Mythal..."_ Rajmael groaned. _"All the Wardens in Orlais set in one place, raising a demon army and putting their mages under Corypheus' control. We have no choice..."_

_"No choice but to what, Inquisitor?"_ Solas asked.

_"Head back to Skyhold, and get ready to wage war on the Wardens."_ Rajmael'a answer was as grim as the grave.

**Back at Skyhold...**

The Inquisitor and the others, including Nathaniel, Sigrun and Oghren, along with Hawke and Stroud, made their way back to Skyhold to prepare an assault on Adamant Fortress. This Grey Warden stronghold was one of the oldest, most formidable military bases in all of Thedas. And if the Wardens were preparing for what they thought would be their final stand, they would fight to the very bitter end to achieve their mission. Little did the Wardens know, that they were being manipulated by the Venatori and serving the very doom they wished to fight. Everyone waited as Inquisitor Lavellan and Warden-Commander Howe conveyed with the War Council.

While The Inquisitor was preparing a battle plan with his councilor's, Varric and Hawke were hitting the tavern. This place wasn't the Hanged Man, it was way too clean for comfort, and the booze weren't nearly watered down enough, but it would do. It had been far too long since either of them hand enjoyed anything like this as friends should. The Tavern was practically empty, so the two old companions were able to drink and laugh in peace

_"I have to admit I'm proud of you, Varric."_ Hawke confessed as he finished his drink.

_"What? Come one, Hawke, knock it off. You're going embarrassing me."_ Varric chuckled.

_"I'm serious, Varric. I know you don't see yourself as the heroic type who goes out of his way to save the world, but that's exactly what you've been doing."_ Hawke raised his glass to his old friend proudly. _"And you were right, the Inquisitor is exactly who we needed right now."_

_"If I recall correctly, you've had no small part in being a hero and changing the world either, O Champion of Kirkwall."_ Varric laughed.

_"This has definetly been one of those great adventures. I just wish everyone else could be here right now to share in it."_ The Champion admitted sadly.

_"Well, here's to all our friends, close companions and fellow do-gooders who aren't here to partake in this great adventure."_ The two of them raised their glasses high.

_"I'll drink to that."_ Said a familiar, sultry voice that could only belong to one pirate in all of Thedas.

_"Isabella...?"_ The instant the Champion turned his head, the voluptuous pirate lips found his, and her tongue flooded into his mouth, tasting the ale he just drank.

Varric watched in contended silence and took another swig of his drink as the two humans tickled each other's tonsils. After about a minute of making out, their mouths finally separated. It had been a while since anyone kissed Isabella like that, it made her knees weak and other parts of her anatomy feel shaky.

_"Isabella, what are you doing here?"_ Hawke was taken completely by surprise.

Isabella sat down and took a drink from Hawke's cup. _"Well, Hawke, you'll be surprised to learn that I have joined up with the Inquisition, and am now serving cause greater than myself by helping to save the world. I guess you rubbed off on me in more ways than one."_

_"Yeah, and all the gold Ruffles is paying her certainly has no affect in her decision to be here."_ Varric said sarcastically.

_"Hush, you. Ambassador Montilyet can ask me for anything. _Anything_."_ Isabella winked suggestively at Hawke.

_"I'm glad you're here, Isabella. It's good to know you're doing well."_ Hawke said truthfully.

_"Oh, Hawke, stop, You're going to make me blush!"_ That look of sincere care and affection Hawke had always made Isabella's heart flutter. _"And as much as I'd love for you to actually succeed, there's someone else here more deserving of your honeyed words, I think."_

_"Aneth ara, Ma Vhenan."_ Said a sweet Dalish voice laced with love and relief. Hawke stood and his heart almost burst with joy at the sight of his beloved Merrill. Her beautiful golden eyes were filled with tears of happiness, and she rushed into her lovers arms. Hawke kissed Merrill with all the passion he had for her, and the two lovers drank deep of each other's love. They would have gladly held each other like that forever, but had to separate for the sake of breathing.

_"Merrill, what are you doing here?"_ Hawke asked curiously.

The former First tried to catch her breath, and hold herself steady after the kiss left her knees weak. _"Isabella told me about what was happening. That you were aiding this Inquisition, and I had to see you again."_ Merrill held Hawke close and buried her face in his chest. _"I've missed you so much, Hawke. It was hard to be away from you without any word. I had to see you again."_

Isabella snuck right behind Hawke and wrapped her arms around. _"You know, Hawke, it's been a very long time since all of us have been together. Not since that long, intense night we shared before you left to escape the Chantry. Maybe before you go off another high-risk adventure, we should spend some time getting...reacquainted."_ Isabella gently, but naughtily, bit Hawke's ear between her teeth.

After spending years with Isabella, Merrill knew when the pirate queen was talking dirty, and liked it. Merrill wrapped her arms around Hawke's neck and pressed her breasts against his unarmored chest. _"Hmm. Yes, Ma Vhenan. I want to know how much you've missed me."_

After almost two years of not seeing either of them, and that intense look in Merrill's eyes, coupled with Isabella chewing on his earlobe, his legendary resolve was broken, he was unable to resist these two beautiful women. He wanted to be with them one more time before he went to wage war on the Grey Wardens.

_"Varric, the drinks are on me."_ Hawke called back.

_"You crazy kids go have fun! Maker knows you deserve it, or if you'll ever have a chance like this ever again."_ Varric encouraged. And they did deserve it, Hawke more than most.

**~XoXoXo~**

The three lovers found their way to one of the ruined, unmanned towers along the wall where no one would disturb them, though Isabella certainly wouldn't mind. Oh, how Hawke had longed for this after being gone for almost two years from the women he loved most. Merrill's soft, warm flesh, her naturally flexible body, and innocent adventurousness to try new things. Isabella with her voluptuous breasts, experienced techniques, and limitless imagination. The empty tower was filled with Merrill's innocent sighs of pleasure and Isabella's cries for more. Hawke gladly, hungrily obliged both his women. The three lovers writhed, and moved together as one while they rode on waves of ecstasy until they crashed against their peak of climactic bliss.

All three of them of laid together in an entangled heap of sweat and satisfaction. Isabella was the first to remove herself from their interlocking bodies, a lustful look of content was painted on her face. _"You haven't lost your touch at all, O glorious Champion. You haven't lost anything."_ She kissed both her lovers and reluctantly decided to put her clothes back on.

Merrill cuddled into Hawke's arms like a lost kitten, worried for her love's safety. _"Hawke, please don't die. There is so many bad things happening, and I couldn't bear it if I lost you."_

Isabella turned her head back in surprise. _"Now, Kitten, you should know better. Nothing can harm Hawke. The Arishok, Meredith and even this Corypheus bastard couldn't even put a scratch on his handsome face."_

Hawke gently ran his fingers through Merrill's hair as she looked up at him with tears verging in those beautiful eyes of hers he loved so much. _"Merrill, nothing is going to happen to me. I have far too much to live for to die now."_

Merrill buried her face into his chest. _"Promise me, ma vhenan. Promise me you'll come back."_

Hawke held his Dalish lover close to him and whispered softly in her ear. _"I swear, Merrill. Even if I have to cross through the darkest realm of the Fade to come back to you. Both of you."_

Isabella wrapped herself around both of them. Never had she felt more at home than she did with these two. _"And we'll hold you to that promise, Hawke. Even if we have to go to the darkest place in the Fade to find you."_

_"I love you so much, Hawke. Don't ever leave me, ma vhenan."_ Merrill stifled back a quiet sob, and all three were content to just stay there, and enjoy their small peace for just a while longer.

**~XoXoXo~**

Oghren sat by himself drinking some Coastland Whiskey from the flask hanging under his beard while he maintained his weapon. Sigrun sat nearby and did the same with her armor, showing off the intricate Casteless and Carta tattoos on her face. Two very large shadows came over both the dwarves, it was the horned guy, Iron Bull, and fellow Grey Warden, Blackwall.

_"So...uh, what ya up to there, Oghren?"_ Iron Bull asked to pass the time.

_"Oh, you know, just...polishing my big war hammer."_ Oghren snickered.

Iron Bull got the innuendo and played along. _"Yeah, got to really stroke that thing if want get it ready for some serious swinging."_

_"Yeah, sometimes I like to just take my weapon out like this, and polish and scrub it all day long. It really makes a difference when it's time to get down and dirty."_ Oghren chortled.

_"Oh, Sweet Ancestor."_ Sigrun groaned in disgust. _"It's bad enough I gotta deal with Oghren all day, but do both of you have to do that?"_

Both the dirty-mouthed warriors laughed heartily, even Blackwall joined in.

_"So you're Warden Blackwall, eh? I've heard of ya."_ Oghren admitted. _"With a beard like that and the way you killed those dusters back at that ruin, I could have sworn you were dwarf. Good to know there's other good Wardens out there."_

_"I...I do my best. Maker knows we Wardens need to, especially now."_ Blackwall answered.

_"Yeah, I don't think our Order is going to be making a whole lot of friends after this."_ Sigrun _sighed. "Stone, I don't know if the Order will ever recover from this, or what Anders did over in Kirkwall."_

_"Perhaps it shouldn't."_ Solas stated aloofly as he entered the conversation, and instantly getting everyone's attention. _"Your Order is so completely obsessed over the darkspawn they care for nothing else. And now they deliberately seek out the Old Gods with demons in a foolish attempt to preempt the Blight. Such actions and their consequences can only bring about ruin, just as much the Blight itself would. Perhaps your Order simply doesn't deserve to defend this world anymore."_

_"For once, I must agree with our resident apostate."_ Vivienne added. _"You Wardens lack any form of oversight and expect too much for your irrelevant Order."_

Oghren silently put his war hammer down and stood tall against the elven apostate and Imperial Enchanter with a nasty scowl on his face. _"And what the sod do a couple of mage lyrium-lickers like you know about the Wardens? Unlike you, who spend all your time skipping around in dreams, or sipping swill with nobles, the Warriors of Orzammar wake and sleep with the darkspawn always on their mind, and we'd give anything to defend our city, and the only ones who aid us, or know what we go through is the sodding Wardens. The Wardens live and die in pain so shaved-headed dusters like you can sleep in your fancy beds, and play with yourselves in dreamland, but you never give us the time of day unless the darkspawn are messing your day up! What have you moss-lickers ever done for your own people, or anyone for that matter, that compares to all the times the Wardens saved this sodding world!?"_

Solas only stood there in silence, while Vivienne's scowl matched Oghren's. The Imperial Enchanter did not take well that this foul smelling dwarf would dare speak to her with such insolence.

_"Have you ever heard the screams of a woman being dragged off to be turned into a broodmother? Or see a whole family, women and children, get eaten by darkspawn."_ Sigrun demanded.

"_I would never be caught in such a place. Such horrors are best fit to be dealt with by the dregs of the world that only an Order such as yours would accept."_ Vivienne disparaged.

_"Oh, that's right. I heard you're always too busy juggling Lord Fancy-Pant's withered cock in your mouth to do anything useful."_ Sigrun mocked.

_"I sodding knew it."_ Oghren scoffed. _"You ain't done nothing but nothin' with your life, and got no business judging the Wardens. Being a Warden is the only good thing I've done with my life, and I'll be damned before I let a bald-headed, knife-eared hobo, and a topsider noble-hunter pretending to be a lady like you two insult us to my face!"_ Oghren, red-faced and pissed, grabbed his hammer and held it ready if either mages said another word.

_"Resorting to violence as your first resort to an honest truth?"_ Vivienne laughed haughtily. _"You dwarves really are quite quaint."_

Sigrun and Oghren exchanged a nasty look.

_"Let's break her legs."_ Sigrun suggested cheerfully.

_"Orzammar style!"_ Oghren agreed heartily.

**Meanwhile, in the War Room...**

Rajmael over looked the War Map with his advisors, Cassandra and Nathaniel, trying to come up with a feasible plan of assaulting this mighty keep and the Wardens who held it. They had spent the past hour and a half getting the orders to their forces to stand ready, and explaining the events that happened to the other Advisors.

_"Adamant Fortress is one of the oldest, most defensible keeps ever built. It has stood strong since the time of the Second Blight."_ Leliana stated.

_"Fortunately for us, that means it was built before the age of modern siege equipment."_ Cullen informed confidently. _"A good trebuchet will do some serious damage to those walls. And thanks to our Lady Ambassador..."_

_"Lady Seryl of Jader was pleased to lend the Inquisition her sappers."_ Josephine smiled brightly. _"They have already delivered the trebuchets."_

_"But that is only the good news."_ Leliana finished.

_"Oh, wonderful. I was worried this would be too easy and we wouldn't break a sweat."_ Rajmael said sarcastically. _"What's the not so good news?"_

_"We have been unable to account for the Wardens bolstering their numbers with an army of demons."_ Leliana answered.

_"We can breach the gates, but if the Wardens have already summoned their demon army, then we our forces will not be able to stand against that kind of force for very long."_ Cullen knocked over the little army token on the map confirming the grim reality.

_"Does our present Warden have any useful information to add?"_ Rajmael asked looking at Nathaniel.

_"Every Warden-Commander is required to study every map of the possible strongholds that we might need to take command of should the time arrive."_ Nathaniel answered.

_"My agents have acquired old maps of Adamant that we can use to find ceraint chokepoints to hold the enemy at bay."_ Leliana revealed.

_"Good. I know exactly which points will give us the most advantage. We can get your men inside and have them hold off Clarel's forces until the Inquisitor disrupts their ritual."_ Nathaniel confirmed.

_"You seem rather eager to help us defeat your own Order, Warden-Commander."_ Cassandra pointed out suspiciously.

_"I'm more surprised than you are, Seeker."_ Nathaniel answered grimly.

_"Then why do you choose to aid us against your comrades?"_ Cullen asked.

Nathaniel sighed deeply filling himself with more regret than air. _"Ten years ago, during the Amaranthine Crisis, just after the Fifth Blight, I was conscripted into the Wardens because of I wanted to assassinate Aedan Cousland for murdering my father and bringing my family low. But over time, I realized I was wrong, and grew to respect The Hero of Ferelden."_

_"Hmm. Yes. Aedan did have that effect on people."_ Leliana agreed. _"Maker knows I certainly would have feared or hated him if I hadn't gotten to know the man beneath all that brutality."_

_"During that time, there was some kind of...civil war between two factions of darkspawn."_ Nathaniel revealed as he continued his story._ "They were being led by awakened darkspawn called The Architect and The Mother. Intelligent, sentient who could think, influence and command other darkspawn, and even speak."_

_"Sweet Maker! Talking darkspawn?"_ Josephine gasped, the others share her horror. _"How...how can that be?!"_

_"I...truly do not know. The Mother was insane, and wanted to kill everything and destroy the Architect. She even created a new breed of darkspawn called the Children."_ Nathaniel's lips curdled like sour milk, and his hand twitched at the mere mention of those creatures. _"After the Mother failed to destroy Amaranthine, Aedan, Sigrun, a Dalish Warden named Velanna and I, tracked the Mother to her lair in the Dragon Bone Wastes."_

_"A Dalish Warden?"_ Rajmael asked curiously.

_"Yes. She joined us because the Architect killed members of her clan and kidnapped her sister, Seranni, and was willing to do anything to find her."_ Nathaniel answered with a look of sorrow on his face. _"And when we went to the Dragon Bone Wastes to confront the Mother, Seranni was waiting for us, with the Architect at her side. They both tried to convince us that all The Architect wanted was to...help his people, the darkspawn. Free them of their destructive nature, and the call of the Old Gods. He wanted to ally with the Grey Wardens and spread his gift to all the darkspawn to prevent a Blight from ever happening again."_

_"Holy Andraste."_ Cassandra sighed. _"What...what did you do?"_

_"I had just witnessed the Mother's Children almost burn Amaranthine to the ground, and I heard that they were assaulting Vigil's Keep. My family defended both those holdings for almost a thousand years, and after what I saw, I would have done anything to keep that from happening again. So like an idiot, I wanted to go along with Seranni and the Architect's plan."_ Nathaniel's voice was filled with shame and regret.

_"And what did Aedan do?"_ Leliana asked eagerly.

_"He spat on the Architect's offer, then fought with it. Ended up ripping the creature's head off before burning it's body to a pile of ash."_ Nathaniel answered as though he was telling a story that had been repeated too many times. _"Seranni escaped into the darkness during the battle, and then we finished The Mother. Aedan stabbed her through the mouth with a Cousland dagger, and then had her loathsome body incinerated."_

_"None of this answers why you would turn on your fellow Wardens."_ Rajmael reminded. _"If anything, it seems more like your telling us why we need your Order."_

_"Because I failed in my duty."_ Nathaniel answered bitterly. _"I wanted to take the Architect's offer to try and stop Blight's from occurring, and Velanna blamed Aedan for losing her sister by not allying with the Architect. And Aedan told us both something that I will never forget: A Warden's duty is not to try and find an easy way out, a shortcut, or to try and outsmart the Blight. Our duty is to man our post, hold the line, and fight the enemy. And that is why I am helping you against the Warden's. Because they have abandoned their post to find an easy shortcut."_

_"I agree with Nathaniel says."_ Leliana spoke. _"Aedan would never forgive what these Wardens are doing, and why they are doing it."_

_"Then our path is clear."_ Rajmael confirmed. _"I want our forces ready to assault Adamant Keep in one hour. And call in every all the mercenary companies on our payroll. With luck, they might have more experience fighting demons than our main forces do. And if they find anything in that Keep that doesn't look like it belongs in this plane of existence, kill it."_

_"I'll be going with you."_ Leliana stated confidently.

_"What?!"_ Cullen and Josephine asked in shock and surprise.

Rajmael was just as surprised. _"You've never accompanied me on any of my previous missions because of your importance to our network of agents. Why so eager now?"_

_"I agree with your initial reasoning, Leliana. It's too dangerous. If something were to happen to you the Inquisition would be hobbled."_ Cassandra said with concern.

_"I also know the choke-points and areas to hold that will best aid our forces just as well as Nathaniel does. And besides, Warden-Commander Nathaniel and I both fought at the Hero of Ferelden's side. I've seen first hand what heroes the Wardens truly are."_ Leliana spoke with a confidence and determination Rajmael had not seen in her before. _"I must aid in this battle on Aedan's behalf. It's least I could do for an old friend, and his comrade."_

_"I would be honored to fight by your side, Sister Leliana."_ Nathaniel welcomed.

One of Josephine's scribes came rushing through the door with panic on her face. _"My Lord Inquisitor! You must come to the lower courtyard quick!"_

_"Why? Are we under attack?!"_

_"Not exactly."_ The lady scribe said nervously. _"The two dwarven Wardens are fighting with Imperial Enchanter Vivienne. And I fear it is getting worse."_

_"Oh, for the love of Dirthamen."_ Rajmael sighed._ "Okay, I'll go handle it. Five royals says that this started because Vivienne couldn't keep her bitch mouth shut."_

**Later at the Gates of Adamant Fortress...**

Rajmael along with all his forces stood before the gates of Adamant Fortress. The air was silent, but there was a certain tension that accompanied the silence, like the calm before the storm. From afar the Inquisitor and his forces could see the Wardens in their silverite armor standing ready on the ancient battlements of Adamant Fortress. The Wardens stood ready to defend their keep, to defend their cause, even if it meant their doom. Rajmael felt ashamed that such dedication was being manipulated by Corypheus in his mad scheme to become a god.

Almost an hour ago, Rajmael decided to give the Wardens one last chance to see reason, and sent an messenger to deliver terms of surrender lest the Wardens be destroyed. They should be getting a response soon.

_"Inquisitor! Look there."_ Cullen pointed in the distance. It was there messenger returning from the fortress, alive. He handed the Inquisitor the Wardens' response, and Rajmael quirked an eyebrow in disbelief._ "What does the message say, Inquisitor?"_ Cullen asked anxiously.

_"In War, Victory. Sign, Warden-Commander Clarel."_ That was the Wardens' answer, and the Inquisitor's path became clear. _"Commander Cullen?"_

_"Yes, Lord Inquisitor?"_

**"FUCK THEIR SHIT UP!" **With that command, all the trebuchets unleashed all the fire, stone and fury the Inquisition brought to bear. Cullen was right; the ancient stone walls of Adamant Fortress were not built, nor capable of withstanding modern day siege equipment. The massive stones and a combustible jars they flung at the keep did serious damage to it, and all the Wardens could do was stand there and try not to get hit.

The initial assault went on for almost an hour, and while the Keep continued to hold, its walls were beginning to weaken.

_"Nya-ha! Shove this Blight up your taint, prigs!"_ Sera laughed mockingly as she fulfilled a lifetime goal of throwing a trebuchet full of pissed off bees and flaming pig shit at the walls. And by some freak stroke of luck, or the gods' sick sense of humor, that last jar that Sera launched caused the front wall to crumble.

Cullen lifted his sword forward to the keep and raised it high. _"Forward!"_

Rajmael planted his sword into the ground and knelt in prayer. _"Dirthamen, Keeper Secrets and Fortune, reveal to me the secret to victory and knowledge to win this battle Mythal, All-Mother and Patron of Justice, grant me your protection as I face this powerful enemy. Andruil, Greatest of All Hunters, give me the strength to strike down my enemy and all who aid him. And should the worst come to pass, I ask thee, Elgar'nan, All-Father, Eldest of the Sky, to grant me vengeance. Las ar enasalin, ten las ar atishan."_

The Inquisition forces raised their standards high and marched forward in disciplined formation, chanting in unison. The trebuchets continued their assault as the men marched forward to the Gates of Adamant with a massive battering ram. Like an angry fist against a deserving face, the battering ram smashed against the ancient gate again and again, and again. The sheer force of the assault began to shake the whole keep. The fist of the Inquisition smashed against the gate one last time the gate and the wall surround it splintered and shattered. The legendary Adamant Fortress had been breeched.

_"Warden! Pull back! They're through!"_ A Warden officer ordered.

Rajmael and his companions emerged through the flaming, destroyed gates ready to stop the Wardens from summoning the demons.

_"All right, Inquisitor. You have your way in. Best make use of it."_ Cullen stated. _"We'll keep the main forces occupied while you and the others make your way to Clarel."_

_"Oghren, Sigrun, Leliana, and I will try to hold off the Wardens and them from getting out of the keep."_ said Nathaniel.

_"I fear the Wardens have already started the ritual and have summoned far too many demons for our men to handle for long."_ Leliana informed dismally. _"It is imperative that you find Clarel and end this madness now before she summons a whole army to overrun us."_

_"I'll help clear you a path. Keep the demons and the Wardens off you as long as possible."_ Hawke said confidently.

Stroud came forward. _"And I'll accompany you. With luck, perhaps some of my brothers will see this madness for what it is and surrender."_

_"Corypheus is not going to destroy us, or an army of pet demons. I swear it."_ Rajmael promised.

_"It's an honor to fight at your side, Inquisitor."_ Nathaniel comented.

_"No go make 'em eat dust!"_ Oghren bellowed.

_"Kick that Magister in the pickles and eggs for us!"_ Sigrun bade comically.

All of them charged on their paths, ready to slay any and all that stood in their path. They could not fail here. There was for too much at stake to let victory fall into anyone else's hands. It was the Wardens or Thedas.

**~XoXoXo~**

Nathaniel and his group stood before a squadron of fellow Wardens accompanied by their possessed mages and bound demons. Nathaniel, Oghren, Sigrun and Leliana felt no fear, they fought and killed worse things with Aedan Cousland. But they could sure use his help right now.

_"The Warden-Commander of Ferelden!? How can you turn your back against the Order?!" _One of the Wardens demanded.

_"You and the Warden-Commander Clarel have made a terrible mistake that threatens to destroy the world. Stand down!"_ Nathaniel ordered.

_"We are doing this to save this ungrateful world! Our orders are clear! Attack!"_ Wardens and demons charged down the intruders. They would allow anyone to interfere with their sworn mission.

Nathaniel loosed two arrows that penetrated the one Warden's visor and into his eye sockets, and Sigrun's hand-axe flew through the air and was lodged into a second Warden's skull, and while they handled the Warden, Oghren and Leliana engaged the demons. Oghren feigned the two demons to get just close enough, and just as they were in range, and completely unaware of the how dangerous this dwarf was, he unleashed a powerful flourish. His hammer smashed through their grotesque physical forms, ripping their flesh and breaking their bones. Leliana disappeared like a shadow that even these wraiths couldn't find. Her blessed arrows appeared out of nowhere and stuck the demons in their hideous faces, the holy blessings upon these projectiles burned away the demons until they were nothing but a pile of black ashes.

A Warden soldier got too close to Nathaniel, swinging his sword at the former Fereldan nobleman. Nathaniel easily ducked beneath the man's swing and jammed his dagger beneath his chin and up into his brain. Nathaniel looked into the man's eyes until the life was gone from them. It hurt Nathaniel to kill his own brethren after ten years of being a Warden, but these men chose their path, and he couldn't let them summon any more demons.

_"Take that nug-humpers!"_ Oghren bellowed.

_"Don't celebrate too soon, Oghren. We still got a whole keep full of these things."_ Sigrun chided.

_"Oh, I hope there's more, hot pants."_ Oghren said eagerly.

_"We still have several more points to clear out for our forces to move in. Let's go!"_ Leliana called. All four of Aedan Cousland's former comrades ran further down the corridors of Adamant Fortress, slaying the demons and any Warden unwise enough to not surrender. They must secure these points, no demon must leave this fortress alive. If only the Hero of Ferelden were here...

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael and his companions sped their way further into the fortress. Demons and corrupted Wardens littered their path. Just how many of her own men did Clarel sacrifice to summon this many demons? With might, magic and guile, Rajmael and those who stood with him destroyed everyone who stood in their path. Iron Bull hated demons more than he hated Vints or Tal-Vashoth, and cut down everyone that got in his way with that oversized axe of his, while Solas used his Fade magic to disperse and banish the hostile spirits, and Sera just went ballistic, smashing vile, after vile of her special concoctions to make the demons stay away while she fired every arrow she had at the Wardens. Vivienne used her trademark ice magic to block the Wardens from getting to close and funnel their numbers with ice walls, then freezing them into solid blocks of shattered ice.

Cassandra used her Seeker powers to disable the corrupted Warden-Mages' powers and weaken their summoned demons. With the demons weakened and the mages disabled, Blackwall and Cole were easily able to get close enough to kill them with their mace and knives respectively. Varric was able to give ample cover fire to all of his companions with Bianca, and threw his new shrapnel grenades covered in tar. The result was an utter mess of men with burn scarps of metal and flaming tar that tore and melted their skin at the same time. Dorian used his Nevarran Styled Necromancy to wrest control of the demons from the corrupted Wardens and force them to fight on their side, before sending them back to the Fade in flames.

They made their way to one of the battlements where it looked like some of the corrupted mage Wardens wanted to continue the ritual and sacrifice more of their men. But these men refused to be used as fodder for demons.

_"Stop! Brothers, can't you see that this is madness!"_ One of the Wardens pleaded vainly as his fellow Warden used bloodmagic to hold him against his will. Some of them men still were still apprehensive to raise their weapons against their fellow Wardens.

_"It's no use! Their minds are not their own!"_ Stroud yelled.

_"If you truly care about your brothers, then free them from their enslavement!"_ Hawke yelled.

The Warden-mages immediately turned their attention to the Inquisitor and his men. At the sight of Stroud, the unaffected Wardens picked up their weapons and fought at his side. Rajmael and Hawke fought in unison, their respective sword styles complimenting one another. Rajmael used incredible speed and accuracy straight from the draw, every stroke of his sword made it mark, and his Shimmering Shield of magic protected him from harm. Hawke used his shield and sword in these close-quarters with outstanding discipline. He exposed every opening his opponents made, and whenever an opponent, human, mage or otherwise, struck at him, he halted them with his shield then finished him with his Key-Sword.

The demons and corrupted Wardens were dead, but the frightened and rattled Wardens didn't trust the Inquisition.

_"Stay back! I'm warning you!"_ The Warden-Officer warned.

_"I don't want to kill you, but I will if I have to."_ Rajmael warned. _"I'm only here to stop Clarel. Fall back now, and you will not be harmed."_

The Wardens lowered their weapons._ "Alright. Me and my men want no part of this. Go find Clarel and deal with her as you must."_

_"Thank you for sparing them Inquisitor. Maker willing, perhaps the rest of them will listen as well."_ Stroud thanked.

_"If these Wardens wanted to listen to reason, they wouldn't have declared you a traitor to the Order."_ Hawke reminded.

_"Come one! We're almost there."_ Rajmael ordered._ "We need to stop this before Clarel completes this ritual!"_

**~XoXoXo~**

Clarel could hear the fighting intensifying. The Inquisition forces had broken through and she knew the Inquisitor was making his way here. How many more of her brothers and sisters were dying right now because they didn't understand. They could never understand that everything the Wardens did, they did it to keep this world safe. But the world would never honor their sacrifice. This ritual Erimond taught her was the only option they had left. And with the Calling so clear in her ears, she knew this was the only path left to them. Her men's morale was weak, and knowing their comrades were dying only weakened their resolve further.

_"Wardens! We are betrayed by the very world we are sworn to protect!"_ Clarel called.

Erimond approached her, his maimed arm still a bleeding stump wrapped in a clothed tourniquet. _"We have no time to stand on ceremony, Warden-Commander. The Inquisition is coming through your very door. Start the ritual now!"_

_"These men and women are giving their lives for this ritual, magister. That may mean little in Tevinter, but to the Wardens, it is a sacred duty."_ Clarel said spitefully.

Erimond shook his head angrily and resumed nursing his stump. Clarel turned to one of her oldest friends. They had shared times, battles and tears together. And now their journey, and duty was coming to an end. _"It has been many years, my friend." Clarel spoke bitterly._

_"Too many, Clarel. And now, I'm a tired old man."_ The Senior Warden kneeled dutifully._ "If my sword arm can no longer serve the Order, then my blood will have to do."_

Clarel walked behind her friend and brought sorrowfully brought it to his neck. _"It will do, my friend."_ And Clarel gently glided her blade across his neck, spilling his blood on the ritual circle that Erimond had inscribed.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael and his companions barged though the massive doors, splintering it to pieces. The Inquisitor watched in horror as Clarel coldly kill her own brother. How could she do this? Despite all the horror going on around them, a wide twisted grin wiped across Rajmael's face when he saw Erimond and his stubby right arm. And Erimond noticed.

_"Hey, Erimond! How's the your writing arm doing?"_ Rajmael asked mockingly.

_"Stop them! We must complete the ritual!"_ Erimond ordered frantically.

Rajmael motioned his people to halt, and approached the Wardens calmly, even as they drew their weapon. _"Clarel, if you complete this ritual, you're playing right into Erimond's hands. All one of them."_

A vicious scowl came over Erimond's face. _"You speak as though I'm the enemy, when you're the one who murdered your way in here! I gave the Wardens the means necessary to stop the Blights from ever happening again! Yes, it requires blood sacrifice. Hate for that if you must, but don't hate the Wardens for doing there duty."_

_"The Wardens make the sacrifices no one else will. We die proudly for a world that will never thank us!"_ Clarel said bitterly.

_"And then your Tevinter ally binds your mages to serve Corypheus!"_ Stroud yelled desperately.

_"Corypheus? But...but he's dead."_ Clarel said disbelievingly.

_"These people will say anything to shake your confidence, Clarel."_ Erimond said with all the venom of a snake. _"You must do what needs to be done."_

Clarel looked down at the Inquisitor, and after a moment rediscovered her resolve. _"Bring it through!"_

The Warden mages raised their hands above the Tevene runes and charged their magic though it. The circle blazed with life and opened a massive Rift in the middle of the courtyard. And on the other side, Rajmael could see the largest demon he'd ever seen. It glared at them hungrily with a thousand mad eyes. It was so big it couldn't even fit through the Rift. Yet.

Hawke, Stroud, and Rajmael approached the Wardens. At the sight of such the malignant creature they summoned, Rajmael could see some of the Wardens resolve falter.

_"Please, don't do this! I've seen the destruction and ruin bloodmagic can bring. This will only bring about our doom, not salvation!"_ Hawke shouted.

_"I trained half of you myself. Don't make me kill you to stop you from destroying the Order."_ Stroud pleaded desperately.

The was an earth-shattering roar from the other side of the Rift. The giant demon was getting closer.

_"Be ready with the ritual, Clarel."_ Erimond whispered._ "This demon is truly worthy of your strength."_

Blackwall stood forward. He had try and speak sense to them. _"Many of you don't know who I am, but you know me as Blackwall. Being a Warden is the only good thing I've done with my life, and I honor your sacrifice. But this does not honor us! This man seeks to use you to bring about the world's destruction for the creator of the very Blight we fight against."_

Rajmael could see Blackwall's words taking hold amongst the Wardens. He needed to convince them of what was truly happening before it was too late. _"Look at what you've done! The Wardens you murdered and the demons you summoned! Is this truly how the Wardens defend the world from the darkspawn?! By murdering your own and calling it honor? Are you going to let yourselves be used in an insane ritual and let demons in the world? All because Clarel is scared?!"._

_"The mages who did the ritual, they're not right!"_ One of the Wardens finally admitted. _"They were my friends, but now they're like soulless puppets!"_

_"You cannot let fear sway your mind Warden Chernoff!"_ Clarel urged.

_"You're being used, Clarel and you know it!"_ Hawke spat._ "You're just too scared to open your eyes realize it. You sacrificed your own men in a ritual you don't understand because you're a coward!"_

_"The day may come when you're asked to give your life for the Blight."_ Stroud admitted. _"But not today, and not like this."_

The Wardens heard their words, and listened. They all looked to their commander with betrayal in their eyes. Even Clarel's resolve was beginning to falter in her eyes. And suddenly Erimond wasn't looking so confident anymore.

_"Clarel, we have come so far. You're the only one who can do this."_ Erimond pleaded.

_"Perhaps...perhaps we can learn the truth of these charges, to avoid more bloodshed."_ Clarel suggested.

That pleading look on the magister's face washed away and was replaced with something very pissed off. _"Or maybe I should have brought a more reliable ally." Erimond stepped forward and held his staff in his remaining hand and stamped it to the ground with that same red magic. "My master thought you might come here, Inquisitor! So he sent me an old friend to welcome you!"_

A shrill cry split the air and almost shook the ground, and a familiar dark figure flew through the night sky. It was that corrupted pet dragon that Corypheus commanded.

_"Shit! Move!"_ Rajmael cried. The dragon dove down and spat it's colored fire into the courtyard. It flew back into the sky and circle around them, knocking down statues and bits of the keep to crush them.

Erimond stood over the Rift and energized it with foul magic. The Rift surged and swelled, and demons began to pour through like a maggots out of carcass. Demons of Pride, Rage and Sorrow began slaughtering the remaining Wardens. Realizing that she had been deceived, and had truly murdered her own brothers and sisters for nothing, Clarel struck at Erimond from behind with lightning.

_"Clarel, wait..."_ Erimond pleaded pathetically. Without both his arms, the magister was unable to use all his magic. And there was no pity in Clarel's eyes. The Orlesian Warden-Commander noticed the dragon perched on one of the towers and flung another lightning spell at it, but her attack did nothing. The dragon breathed a fireball at Clarel, but missed. Erimond too this as an opportunity to run. Clarel chased after him.

Rajmael noticed Clarel chasing after Erimond. He had to catch up with them. With luck, maybe he and Clarel could close this damned Rift before it got any bigger and more demons came through. That dragon was going to be a pain in the ass though.

_"Blackwall! Sera! Iron Bull! Vivienne! Stay here and help the Wardens against the demons. Everyone else, with me!"_ Rajmael ordered. They had to end this soon, or there would be too many demons for the Inquisition forces to withstand.

The dragon kept swooping down on them, raining its terrible fire and lashing at them with it's claws. It remembered Rajmael, and how he defeated it and its master at Haven. It would not be shamed a second time.

The Inquisitor and his team raced through the demon infested corridors with a flying High Dragon on their ass. It ripped through the walls as though they were paper and tried to burn them alive, but the corridors and balconies they chased Clarel and Erimond through were too narrow for it to catch them. The reached the top of Adamant Fortress were a crumbling ledge looked over the Abyssal Rift.

Clarel cornered Erimond at the cliff, and she looked pissed. Erimond vainly threw several fireballs at her, but they bounced off her protective barrier. She swung her staff at the magister with a force push and knocked him several feet away, right next to the end of the floor.

_"YOU! Your destroyed the Wardens!"_ Clarel snarled.

Erimond lifted himself to his knees, laughing at Clarel. _"You did that yourself, you stupid Orlesian bitch! All I did was wave a little power in front of your face, and you couldn't wait to get your hands dirty!"_

Ropes of fire and lightning erupted from Clarel's staff and grabbed the mouthy magister, throwing him back towards the keep like the piece of trash he is. Erimond wheezed and coughed, his insolence gone.

_"You...you could have served a new god..."_ Erimond said weakly.

_"I will never serve the Blight!"_ Clarel denied.

Rajmael and the others arrived on the scene. The Inquisitor shouted something to the Warden-Commander, but she was too angry to hear his warning until it was too late. A hungry rumble growled around them. And before Clarel could finish Erimond, the dragon pounced down and caught her in his teeth. It flew back into the air and landed over the entry way, swinging her body like a piece of meat between his jaws, then flung her away like a ragdoll.

Now, they were royally screwed. Caught between a bottomless canyon and a pissed off dragon high on red lyrium. And this time no avalanche was going to save them. Rajmael held his sword ready, he would not die defenseless.

Clarel's lungs filled with her own blood, she couldn't feel her legs and her body was broken. In her sorry attempt to stop the Blight, she brought doom to the Wardens with open arms. She watched helplessly as the dragon that ended her jumped down at the Inquisitor and his comrades. Before she would meet the Maker, she would sacrifice her strength for someone actually worthy of it. She summoned all the magic she had left for one last spell.

_"In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death...SACRIFICE!"_ Clarel screamed with her last ounce of strength, and a powerful ball of fire and lightning big enough to incinerate an ogre flew at the dragon. The Wardens would survive this day, but the dragon would not.

Just as the dragon dove at them, Clarel's final spell hit the beast from behind and injured its wings. It clumsily fell over them, and they narrowly dodged being crushed by it. The floor beneath them began to shake and crumble under the dragon's weight.

_"Everybody run!"_ Rajmael screamed. Even as they ran the very stones they stepped on were falling into the Abyssal Rift. Cassandra step fell short and didn't make it to safety, Rajmael jumped over and grabbed her hand before she fell. The others grabbed hold of Rajmael and tried to pull them both back up. But is was for naught. The ledge they all stood on crumbled beneath them, and they all fell down, the dragon had taken them with it.

No! Rajmael did not come this far just to fall to his death in a bottomless cavern. As he was falling he pointed his head down to the pit beneath them, and activated the Anchor's magic. The Anchor crackled with life and power, and a Rift opened up right in the middle of their fall and consumed all of them. This would save or damn them. The dragon fell into the Abyssal Rift all alone.

**~XoXoXo~**

Nathaniel, Oghren, Sigrun and Leliana were still holding this single point. Something was wrong, and they knew it. The Wardens were no longer fighting them, but they were running aimlessly. What was happening?

_"Leliana!"_ Cullen screamed as he fought his way to her.

_"Cullen! What's happening!?"_ Leliana asked.

_"Warden-Clarel is dead, the Wardens are leaderless!"_ Cullen answered.

_"What about the ritual? What about the Inquisitor?"_

Cullen shook his head dejectedly. _"The Inquistor went after Erimond but that dragon caught up with them, and don't know what's become of him, or Hawke. Clarel succeeded in opening a Rift and the demons are pouring through. I don't know how much longer the others are going to last."_

_"Then what the sod are we standing here for!?"_ Oghren barked. _"We need to get over there and stop these demons from getting out!"_

The giant doorway, the only doorway that could lead them to the Rift was sealed shut, but they had to get through. Then something started pounding on the other side door with the force of a battering ram. There was a loud vicious, and hungry roar that could make an ogre pee itself erupted from the other side. Whatever it was, it wanted that door open. Badly.

_"Whatever's on that side of the door is big, powerful, and could probably kill us."_ Sigrun said lightheartedly. _"Any suggestions, Commander?"_

Nathaniel spat on the ground and knocked an arrow ready. _"We stand our ground, man our post, and face the enemy!"_

All of them stood side by side, their weapons ready to greet whatever terrible monstrosity Clarel's ritual unleashed. Sigrun hummed a merry tune while Leliana and Cullen whispered the Canticle of Benedictions. _"Blessed are those who stand before the corrupt and the wicked, and do not falter. Blessed are the peace keepers, champions of the just."_

Oghren held his hammer ready, with a single dwarven word on his lips. _"Valos Atraedum!_

Nathaniel stood with his grandfather's bow strung tight, his arrows ready. Whatever creature was behind that door would not get past them without a fight. He truly wished Aedan was here right now, they could all use his strength. All Nathaniel could was hope the Maker was with them, and that Inquisitor Lavellan would succeed. The gate erupted into a thousand splinters. Nathaniel was ready for whatever came next. Maker help them all...

**Language Codex:**

**Las ar enasalin, ten las ar atishan:** Elven prayer, roughly translated as _"Grant me victory, or grant me peace."_

**Valos** **Atraedum:** Dwaven phrase, translated as _"Favor of The Ancestors."_


	24. Betrayal of The Grey: Part III

**Betrayal of The Grey: Part III**

There was nothing. The world had erupted into a blinding green light that had consumed all of them. But just as quickly as it swallowed them, it spat them back out. Were they falling down, or falling down? Gravity was so different now. The ground was fast approaching, and Rajmael feared this was the part where his vallaslin gets smeared into paste, along with the rest of his being. But then he stopped right above, or was it below, the ground, it was just a few inches from his face. This was beyond weird, but completely welcome, considering he wasn't splattered on the ground, or was it the roof? Then gravity kicked back in, and Rajmael landed flat on his face.

_"Ow! Damn it!"_ Rajmael cursed as he rubbed his nose. Now he knew he was definetly on the ground. _"Where in Ghilanain's holy name are we!?"_ The whole world around him was like a hazy limbo conjured from a fevered dream. Rocks, mountains and whole landscapes floating in the air, suspended over a void of endless nothing. The landscape around him looked like something out of a nightmare. Twisted statues of horror and agony, streams and pools of of a vile green liquid he dare not even call water soaked the ground and flowed from the stony walls. Veins and columns of spiraling lyrium sprung from the ground, pulsing with life. Everything was dark, forboding, even the light in this sunless place was had an air of terror glowing from it. And everywhere he looked there were wisps and minor spirits roamed this place, weeping, screaming and wailing in terror. Rajmael knew where he was now, he had been here before. As a mage, he'd been to this place his whole life. _"Mythal enaste….This cannot be."_

Everyone stood up on the foreign soil, dusting themselves off and trying to get a sense of where they were.

_"What happened? Where are we?" _Stroud groaned. He was standing on a wall as though he were a spider.

_"If this is the afterlife, then the Chantry owes me an apology." _Hawke jibed as he stood upside down on a stone outcropping._ "This doesn't look like the side of the Maker, more like his backside."_

_"No. This is the Fade. The Inquisitor opened a Rift and we fell through. I believe we are in the Fade." _Stroud answered.

_"I never thought I'd ever find myself here physically. Look! Over there, the Black City. Almost close enough to touch." _Solas said as a look of excitement and wonder came over him.

_"No! No, this cannot be."_ Cassandra denied. _"Mortals are not meant to be here."_

_"I realize this is probably a dream come true for you, Solas. Literally. But, perhaps you've got any insight that could help us, get the fuck out of here, Mr. Fade Expert?" _Rajmael urged.

_"What spirit could possibly commande this realm?" _Solas remarked absently._ "I've never heard of such a place, nor have I ever encountered a spirit that would know of it."_

_"This isn't how I remembere the Fade, either." _Hawke informed._ "Perhaps it's because we're here physically, and not in a dream."_

_"Cole, how does it feel to be home?" _Solas asked sincerely.

_"No, no, no! I, I cannot be here like this. I'm me, but I'm not like I was, made myself forget. I can't be here!" _Cole said in distressed panic, like he just woke from a horrid nightmare._ "It's all wrong, wrong, wrong. I made myself forget so I could be real so that I could help. I'm here but I'm not me. Can't release, can't release..."_

_"Be calm, Cole." _Solas said as he tried relax the physical spirit of compassion._ "We will find a way to make this right. Just stay calm, or you're no help to anyone."_

_"Hey, Hawke. Remember the last time we went to the Fade?" _Varric asked humorously.

_"Yes. You and Isabella turned on me." _Hawke answered._ "But I highly doubt that this trip will end with a sincere apology from you and make-up sex from Isabella."_

_"I wish all our problems could end that way." _Varric sighed.

_"Hmm. I remember the first time I went into the Fade." Dorian reminisced. "I met a marvelously sexy desire demon in a castle filled with golds and silks. We ate candied grapes and had the most excellent wine. Before he tried to possess me."_

_"No one wants to know what you do during your personal time, Sparkler." _Varric responded humorously.

_"They say you stepped out of a Rift back at the Temple of Sacred Ashes."_ Hawke reminded. _"Was it anything like this?"_

_"If I knew the answer to that question, I'd probably where this damn mark came from."_ Rajmael answered agitatedly. _"It's as if...something just plucked the memories out of my head and left nothing behind. Like Iron Bull at a buffet."_

_"Well, whatever happened, I think it's safe to assume we're not safe now."_ Hawke continued._ "That huge demon Erimond summoned was right on the other side of that Rift he conjured. And where there's one demon, there are always more."_

_"Back in Adamant Fortress, the Rift was nearby. In the main hall. Is it possible to escape that way?"_ Stroud asked.

Rajmael looked ahead and saw the path to take. At the end of it, over all that desolation and shadow, he could see the Rift shinning into the real world. _"Well, I'd rather take my chances looking for the exit than waiting around for whatever locals who inhabit this place find us."_

_"Agreed."_ Cassandra spoke. _"We do not want to tarry here any longer than is necessary. Let us find the exit and leave this place behind."_

_"Any idea what we might face on our little excursion, Solas?"_ Rajmael asked.

_"It's not the area I would have chosen, obviously. But if I was to hazard a guess, I'd say a fear demon rules this realm."_ Solas answered. _"Fear is a very powerful, very old feeling. It predates anger, sorrow, pride and many other negative aspects. Save, perhaps, for hunger and desire."_

Cole pointed to the minor spirits that hovered around and sped away randomly._ "They remember the screams, the sounds of doom as death came upon the fearful and dying. They remember what this creature has brought, and what he still brings. They scream the terror of the legions of doomed souls."_

_"It would seem ole agrees."_ Solas continued, while everyone else was disturbed by Cole's words._ "We must be wary of traps and manipulations, and prepare for what will certainly be a fascinating experience."_

_"Fascinating?!"_ Cassandra threw back._ "The last time mortals entered this place physically, it brought the Blights, and endless ruin to the world! Maker knows what kind of damage we might cause being here!"_

_"Yes, yes, yes, Cassandra. We all no that bedtime story."_ Dorian waved off. _"Magister entered the Black City and were responsible for creating the Blight and all things bad and unpleasant."_

_"So instead of arguing over trivialities, why don't we focus on getting out of here and not running into more trouble?"_ Rajmael pointed out. _"Like from those guys over there?"_

A large group of shadowy Wraiths approached them. And unlike the ones they encountered in the real world, this creatures weren't twisted and made rabid because they were forcibly ripped from the Fade, this was their actual nature. Creatures of fear and darkness that fed off the negativity and death of mortals. Their twisted shadowy forms with piercing, evil eyes, and they looked hungry.

Rajmael and his companions all drew their weapons to attack, while the Inquisitor smiled widely. _"Seeing as how we're all new to this place, what do you guys say we go greet the locals here!?"_

The Inquisitor threw down a bolt of lightning from his sword and scattered the group of demons. Odd. His magic seemed...stronger here. Was it because his power came from the Fade and now he actually stood here physically instead of dreaming?

Solas and Dorian's magic seemed amplified as well. Dorian's fire spells burned hotter, an he was able to bind the wraiths with his necromancy with minimal effort. And instead of summoning stones and fire from the Fade, like he usually would, Solas was able to manipulate the rocks floating above them with as much as ease as he would in the physical world.

Cassandra's Seeker powers were still highly effective against demons. Being in a place powered by magic, against creatures created from magic, her abilities to disrupt mana, and purge lyrium were still effective. Hawke and Varric stood strong against the demons. The two of them had ample experience fighting against creatures from the Fade during their adventures in Kirkwall. Even Stroud held his own incredibly well; evidently his Chevalier training and lifetime as a Warden prepared him to fight against any manner of foe.

Unfortunately, as well as they all fought against the demons here, the demons themselves fought just as hard, and were even more powerful than the ones they fought in the real world. This was their domain, where their power was strongest, and commanded the most influence. Mere mortals would never be able to stand their ground and face down the true natives of this alien word. But fortunately for the visitors of this realm, they were anything but mere mortals. They would not die here. They would slay any and every demon that got in there way, and stop Corypheus from gaining his demon army. But first, they had to cross this sea of demons and make it to that Rift at the end. And hopefully, not run into that giant demon they saw on the other side of that Rift.

They defeated the group of wraiths, but this would no doubt be the first wave of many. This was their real after all, and they were the intruders. There was a path to walk, perhaps this was the path the demons were taking as they made their way to invade the waking world, and perhaps it was their way out of here. As they carefully ventured further into this vile realm of the Fade, the minor spirits that littered the place scrambled around them as thought they weren't even there, screaming, weeping and crying for salvation they would never receive.

_"Although all around me is darkness, the Maker guides my steps and leads me to paradise..."_

_"Maker! Save me!"_

_"Mommy! Mommy! The monsters took mommy away!"_

_"Sweet Stone! Holy Ancestors! Help!"_

_"No! NOOO! Don't let the darkspawn take me!"_

_"What...what's wrong with these spirits?"_ Cassandra asked, disturbed by who horrid and real their screaming terror was.

_"Spirits reflect the memories and actions of the real world."_ Solas answered calmly. _"This realm is most definitely ruled by some manner of Fear Demon, and these spirits seem to reflect the fears and terror of past Blights. Something all mortals fear."_

_"It is for these very fears, and the horrors that the Blights inflict that we Grey Wardens fight, and why we are so willing to sacrifice anything to prevent such things from happening."_ Stroud stated as he looked on the crying spirits.

_"So willing to sacrifice anything, that you'll even inflict such horrors on others to accomplish your damned mission."_ Hawke said with hostility.

They came upon a stony plateau burning with sickly green torches, and found something so out of place that it gave all of them pause in shock. An elderly woman with gentle eyes and a kind face, dressed in the vibrant robes and holy miter of a highly ranked Chantry Mother. What was someone like this doing here? Who was she?

Stroud was stunned almost speechless. _"Could...could it be...?"_

_"I greet you, Warden. And you, Champion of Kirkwall."_ The kindly woman welcomed warmly. Hawke seemed less than pleased.

_"Who the fuck is this fruity looking old biddy?!"_ Rajmael asked with confusion. What was like her doing in a hell-hole like this?

_"Divine Justinia? Most Holy?"_ Cassandra gasped in shock and disbelief. Suddenly, Rajmael felt a bit like an asshole. But not that much.

_"Cassandra, welcome."_ The Divine greeted her Left Hand graciously.

_"Cassandra, you knew the Divine. Could this be her?"_ Rajmael asked cautiously.

_"I...do not know."_ The Seeker asked with doubt in her voice._ "It is said the souls of the dead pass through the Fade and sometimes linger. But...we know that spirits lie. Be careful, Rajmael."_

_"This cannot be the Divine. In a place like this, she is certainly dead."_ Stroud affirmed. _"I fear this is a spirit...or a demon."_

_"You think my survival impossible, yet here you stand alive in the Fade yourselves."_ The supposed Divine reasoned gently. _"In truth, proving my existence either way would require time you do not have."_

_"Real or not, you're probably as useless as Divine Justinia was in life, and no different in death."_ Hawke seethed.

_"I know you are angry, Champion. You hold me responsible me for the tragedies you suffered in Kirkwall."_ Divine Justinia confirmed.

_"You are responsible!"_ Hawke spat with hate in his voice. _"You appointed Meredith to rule Kirkwall, and did nothing while she brutalized the people. Nothing accept blame the mages, and prepared an Exalted March on the city! Everything that happened to my family, to this fucking world is your fault, you stupid hag!"_

_"Champion!"_ Cassandra scolded angrily.

_"Maker's breath, Hawke. Take it easy."_ Varric tried to calm his friend down. _"Yelling at a dead woman never does anyone any good. Especialy when we have bigger things to worry about."_

_"I know I failed you, and I failed Kirkwall, like I did so many others. And I could never make up for not doing more when you needed it."_ Divine Justinia lamented. _"But I can start by aiding now, and help you find a way home."_ She turned her attention to Rajmael._ "You do not remember what happened at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, Inquisitor. When you received that mark."_

_"Now I know you're not the Divine. There's no way you could have known I was made Inquisitor."_ Rajmael denounced._ "You're about as much the Divine as Solas here is Fen'harel's left nut sack."_

Solas coughed uncomfortably.

_"I know because I have examined memories like yours, stolen by the demon that now serves Corypheus."_ The supposed Divine explained. _"It is the nightmare you forget when you wake up. It feeds off the memories of fear and darkness, growing fat on the terror."_

_"The Blights. This demon feeds off the terror of the Blights."_ Solas realized.

_"Yes. Every dwarf's cries in the Deep Roads, every child's screams when the darkspawn invade. Every life snuffed out by the Archdemons. That is what this creature thrives on. And has fed well."_ The Most Holy continued. _"The false Calling that terrified the Wardens into committing such terrible acts? That was its work."_

_"I would gladly avenge the insult this Nightmare has inflicted on my brethren."_ Stroud swore.

_"And you will have your chance, brave Warden. This place of darkness is it lair."_ Justinia revealed.

_"Wait just a second! You mean the big demon we saw is what Erimond was trying to summon?"_ Varric asked worriedly.

"_Yes."_

_"And that thing is nearby?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Well, shit."_ Was all Varric could say.

_"So to that end, maybe you could give us some helpful advice? Like how do we kill this damned thing!?"_ Rajmael insisted.

_"When you first escaped the demon, it took a part of you. You must get it back before facing it. Only then will you have the strength to combat this monstrosity."_ The Divine pointed down the path where a cadre of demons approached. _"This demons hold your memories, they will try to stop you from regaining them. You must take them back."_

Rajmael turned towards the demons, his sword drawn and blazing with veilfire. Demons of Rage, Terror and Despair littered the plateau, but it did not matter. Rajmael had lost enough to Corypheus and this damned demon that serves him. It was time he took something back from them.

**Back Adamant Fortress...**

The Wardens had been scattered. Warden Clarel was dead, and Warden Stroud had disappeared along with the Inquisitor after that dragon attack. With anyone of commanding rank present, many of the Wardens were scattered. They were all fighting to survive, but it was more akin to a barroom brawl than disciplined tatics, and against demons, they may as well have been rats poking at dragons. Blackwall tried to rally as many as he could to mount a defense against the demons and keep them from pouring out of the Rift, but too many were still too divided and broken with shock over Clarel's betrayal. In this way, Rajmael's actions caused just as much damage.

Iron Bull savagely swung his axe and cut down scores of demons, but for everyone he mauled another two took its place. Sera was scared silly, shooting her arrows at everything that looked funny, but was not concentrating her shots to pin the demons down and give cover fire. Vivienne was trying too hard to eradicate as many demons as possible and was expending too much of her own mana. There was no commander, no one to coordinate their attacks. While they fought greatly, their efforts meant nothing if the could not turn the battle in their favor with a unified assault, but none of them commanded the authority or power of presence to make that happen.

_"Where's the Inquisitor!?"_ Blackwall yelled over the sounds of battle.

Iron Bull finished cleaving a Rage Demon in two. _"I don't know! Last I saw, he was chasing that Vint asshole, and that dragon was after him."_

_"These fuck-ugly demon things are everywhere!"_ Sera screeched.

_"We cannot hold this place for much longer."_ Vivienne announced as she froze over several more demons and shattered them to pieces. _"We must sound a retreat."_

_"No! If we fall back now, then the Wardens here are finished."_ Blackwall denied.

_"My dear Blackwall, as touching as it is that you want to fight and die with your misguided brethren, I do not wish to meet my end here for their foolishness."_ Vivienne stated coldly.

_"If we fall back now, the demons will pour out of that Rift and overrun this Keep!"_ Blackwall barked._ "We have to hold them here for as long as we can until Nathaniel, Cullen and the others make it here."_

_"Nothing like fighting with our backs to a wall. Best way to fight, actually."_ Iron Bull commented.

_"How long do you think that will be?"_ Sera asked worriedly.

_"As long as it takes."_ Blackwall answered grimly. _"All we can do is hope someone out there lends them a hand."_

Their path set, all of them charged back into the fray. They had to slow down the flood of demons coming into this realm until back up arrived. All they can do now is fight their hearts outs, and hope someone out there lends them a hand.

**~XoXoXo~**

Nathaniel, Oghren, Sigrun, Leliana and Cullen all stood ready with their weapons before the gate entry that lead to the main hall of Adamant Fortress. Wardens were still scrambling, while the Inquisition's soldiers fought the stray demons around them, but they had to hold here. This was the only path to the Rift where the rest of their companions were fighting. But the massive gate was locked, preventing them from getting to their comrades. But more importantly, there was something pounding on the other side of that gate trying to get to them. Whatever it was, it sounded big, powerful, and hungry.

What sounded like a thousand demons screaming rang loud and clear on the other side, as it pounded on the gate. The pounding grew louder, faster, more determined by the second, like it couldn't wait to break through to the other side. Nathaniel and the others stood ready. They had all faced terrible horrors before and triumphed. They would not back down now, there was too much at stake.

Nathaniel felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up straight, and a familiar feeling of anxiety and excitement twisted in his gut. He hadn't felt this sensation in years, not since he and Aedan Cousland saved Amaranthine. Why did feel this way now?

The enormous gates erupted into a million splinters, accompanied by the savage screams of demons. Several, massive Pride Demons lumbered forward. Lightning discharged from their bodies, and their claws tore the stone floor as they dragged them behind. And then all three of them...fell down dead.

All of them hesitantly lowed their guards. What just happened? There was something moving in the smoke, surrounded by so many slain demons, fighting off so many more, and winning. Then they realized that those demons were not ramming against the gate to get on the other side, but because they were trying to escape what was in there with them.

The sight was so epic that everyone, even the Grey Wardens and Inquisition soldiers, were awestruck. A single warrior, wielding a gruesome axe, and his face was inked in the style of Alamarii war paint.

_"I-is...is that...can't be..."_ Cullen was too dumbstruck to complete a sentence.

_"O Holy Maker, forgive me for ever doubting you."_ Leliana praised.

_"I think I'm going to vomit with joy."_ Sigrun gushed.

_"Aha-ha-ha-ha! You nug-humpers are in for it now!"_ Oghren bellowed thunderously. _"Prepare for a world of pain."_

_"Aedan Cousland! The Hero of Ferelden!"_ Nathaniel cried with shock and relief.

The legendary Reaver swung his axe in wide arc that crackled with lightning and crashed with thunder as he struck down five Shades in one stroke. His eyes burned with a read aura of pure rage. It was that same look he had when he slaughtered Arl Howe, when he slew the Archdemon, and when he brought war to the Architect and the Mother. And it was this savage rage that would be their salvation.

Aedan looked at his companions with that familiar look in his eyes. It was a look they had almost forgotten. _"What the fuck are you idiots looking at!? KILL SOMETHING!"_

With a fire burning in their guts, they charged the demons alongside Aedan with a renewed resolve; with him here, there was nothing that could stop them.

Cullen fought the demons with masterful precision and experience. From the events at Kinloch Hold, and the uprising in the Gallows, he had gotten used to being surrounded by demons, and killing them. He purged the lyrium from the area around him, badly weakening the demon, then finished them off with his blessed sword. This time, he knew what and who he was fighting for. He would not back down, or be taken again.

_"Leliana! Here!"_ Aedan called as he held the haft of his axe out towards her. The red-haired bard jumped on the axe's handle, and like a spring, Aedan launched her high into the air. Airborne, and with a bird's eye view of the field, Leliana masterfully launched a dozen blessed arrows from above with rapid fire succession.

_"Hey, Commander. It's time for some dwarf tossing!"_ Sigrun yelled as she jumped at Aedan. Her former Commander grabbed the dwarven scout, like she and her armor weighed nothing, and effortlessly threw into the air, and right on to a Pride Demon's face. Sigrun stabbed and hacked the giant creature's eyes and head with her dirk and hand-axe, then jumped off of it when it fell like a tree right on top of the demons beneath it.

Another Pride Demon charged them, Oghren sensed an opportunity. _"Hey! Aedan! Remember when we killed that armored ogre back in Amaranthine?!"_

The two warriors exchanged a demented smile, and charged the enormous Pride Demon on either side of it. Aedan's axe and Oghren's hammer hacked and smashed the demon's legs out from under it, and when it fell face first to the floor, the both brought their weapons down on its hideous face, turning it into a crushed and splattered pile of mush.

Nathaniel fired shot after shot, keeping the demons off Aedan's flank as he finished wiping out the demons._ "Where have you been?"_ Aedan said nothing, but kept killing.

The Wardens and the Inquisition soldiers stopped scrambling, they saw the scene unraveling before them, and could not believe there eyes. It was truly him. The greatest Warden of their generation.

_"It's him! Aedan Cousland!"_

_"The Hero of Ferelden!"_

_"I thought he was dead."_

Aedan raised his axe above his head, signaling to all the Wardens around. _"Wardens! To the Rift! **TO THE RIFT!" **_Their path clear, their sprits restored, and their purpose rallied, the Wardens followed The Hero of Ferelden and his companions as he charged fearlessly to the main hall. They would make their stand there.

**~XoXoXo~**

The demons here were starting to wear the down on Blackwall and the others. Wardens and Inquisition soldiers began to falling before the endless waves of demons emerging from the Rift, and Blackwall feared he and his comrades would soon join them. They had to hold, they had to stand here and let nothing through. Maker, please, lend your aid now.

The entryway doors were smashed open, and droves of fresh Wardens and Inquisition soldiers rushed in and engaged the demons that were assaulting their brothers in arms. They were being led by the most savage warrior Blackwall had ever seen. He was wielding a brutal battle axe, with blue war paint on his face. And surrounding him was a grim, blood-red aura. He and the dwarf Warden, Oghren, charged headlong into the demon's ranks and decimated them without fear or regard for their own safety. Even as the demons clawed at him, and inflicted wounds that would cripple most men, he kept fighting. In fact, the more damage he received, the stronger he became, and the more he killed, the faster his wounds healed.

_"Who in Andraste's flaming knickers is that!?"_ Blackwall asked in stunned amazement.

_"It's Aedan fucking Cousland!"_ Sigrun laughed as she cut down another demon.

_"The Hero of Ferelden?"_ Blackwall took a moment to silently thank the Maker. Maybe they weren't as forsaken as he thought they were.

Aedan and his companions pushed the demons back so their forces could entrench themselves here, and hold off the demonic tide. Leliana and Nathaniel gave the warriors cover fire so that the demons would not overrun them, and shot down any that managed to get past them. Sigrun ran like greased lightning past the demons, cutting them down from below and dealing horrible damage to them while keeping the demons off of Aedan's flank. Aedan threw his axe straight into a Pride Demon's face just as it emerged from the Rift. Now Oghren knew things were going to get fun.

_**"RAAAHHHH!"** _Unarmed and twice as dangerous, the savage Ferelden charged down the demons with nothing but his bare hands. He was engulfed in that infernal aura that was more fearsome than any of the demons. His hands became like the claws of dragons as he ripped into the demons, tore their bodies and shredded them to pieces._** "COME HERE!"** _He roared as he grabbed a skeletal terror demon by its claw and swung it around, striking at its fellow demons with it like it was a morning star. Then he held the screaming Terror demon over his head with both hands, and pulled the thing in half. With the demons were now being pushed back, Aedan was able to recover his axe with ease. The momentum was now on their side. And Aedan saw something that brought a wide smile to his face.

Erimond barely managed to make it to safety when that bitch Clarel collapsed the rampart on him. The stupid woman failed to kill him, and instead sent that infernal rattus elf plummeting to his death. He had to get out of here now. He had to get to his master. He had to tell the Elder One of his success. And when he presents this news to the Elder One, his gratitude will be so profound that he will make him the most powerful god-king in all of Thedas when he brings his new kingdom to this world.

Erimond propped himself up against a wall with his only arm holding him up. He could get away in all this chaos if he was careful. Then something blocked his path. Some dog-lord barbarian with blue tattoos on his face, and grin that was getting wider.

_"Going somewhere, you pussy!?"_ the barbarian dared question.

_"Out of my way, you filthy dog-lord! I will destroy you!"_ Erimond raised his hand at the Fereldan to conjure a spell to wipe that grin off his face. The barbarian's axe swept across him like a flash of lightning, and cut Erimond's arm right off before he could finish his spell, the lightning enchanted blade instantly cauterized the wound. The now armless magister fell to his knees screaming at the top of his lungs as he stared in horror at both his new stumps.

As much Aedan liked hearing Tevinter mages scream, he had no time to enjoy it. So instead, he grabbed the prick by his hair and slammed his face into a wall. With the Magister incapacitated, and the momentum of battle on their side, it was now time to claim this battlefield as their own. Aedan raised his axe above his head, rallying all to his command.

_"SHIELD WALL! FORM!"_ Like a well oiled machine with the discipline of a hardened army, Wardens and Inquisition alike locked their shields in unison into an indomitable wall of iron and focus. Just like at Redcliffe and Amaranthine, Nathaniel and Leliana led the archers, but this time they were not leading untrained, desperate peasants and farmers. This time they were leading battle-hardened soldiers with a grudge. Iron Bull, Blackwall, Cullen, Oghren and Sigrun joined the ranks for what was sure to be an epic battle.

_"SOLDIERS! ADVANCE!"_ Every soldier, Warden and mercenary marched forward, ready to kill any and every demon that came out of that damned Rift.

Leliana remembered what Aedan's voice was like, and she would die knowing it. Aedan's war cries carried louder than the roar of any High Dragon. And like a High Dragon, he was an awesome and terrible thing to behold, but something you want on your side. And like a High Dragon, he would rain down hellfire and ruin on their enemies.

**Back in the depths of The Fade...**

The demons guarding Rajmael's memories had been slain. His memories, the very things that could finally reveal the truth about what happened in the Temple of Sacred Ashes, floated around like green orbs. The Inquisitor raised his marked hand to his memories and too them back into himself. Being a place of memories, Rajmael's forgotten past was laid bare for all of them to see.

The Divine had been captured, right in the very heart of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, and was being suspended in the air by some strange but familiar red magic. And surrounding the Divine, trapping her in that magic, were several Warden mages. Some of them even seemed glad at what they were doing.

_"Now is the hour of our victory."_ Corypheus declared as he approached the Most Holy, the elven orb gripped tightly in his clawed hand.

_"Why are you doing this? You of all people?"_ The Divine asked desperately.

_"Keep the sacrifice still."_ The Elder One held the orb out to Justinia and a beam of green magic engulfed her. Corypheus smiled in twisted glee as he watched the orb drain the life from the Divine.

_"Someone help me!"_

_"What's going on here!?"_ Rajmael had called as he entered the chamber. He was surprised to see the Divine, judging from that silly hat she was wearing, floating in mid-air, even more so to see it was because of mages in blue and silver raiment adorned with griffon motifs. Grey Wardens? Here? His surprise turned to horror as he saw a giant that was thick with rot, skin that was wet with disease and the rest of his body looked like burned charcoal. Sweet Mythal. His very presence was made Rajmael sick to his stomach. The creature was holding on to strange green orb, Rajmael could feel great power radiating from it.

_"Run while you can!"_ The withered priestess called out to the Dalish. _"Warn them!"_

_"Slay the elf!"_ The fell being commanded and the wardens seemed eager to obey. The Divine took advantage of the creature's distraction and knocked the orb from it's disproportionately long fingers. It rolled on the ground and Rajmael instinctively went to grab it. When he took it with his left hand raw power from the fade swirled around him, around all of them.

_"NO!"_ the diseased creature half bellowed in rage as the whole world erupted into a bright green flash. Just like the rifts.

The flashback had ended. And now, everyone knew the truth about what happened at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. What truly destroyed the Conclave.

_"So your mark didn't come from Andraste. It came from the orb Corypheus used in his ritual."_ Stroud acknowledged.

_"Corypheus intended to rip the veil open, use the Anchor to enter the Fade, and gain entry into the Black City."_ The Divine explained. _"Not for the Old Gods, however, but for himself. When you interrupted his ritual, the magic backfired and destroyed the temple, and the Orb passed the Anchor to you."_

Rajmael was unmoved by this revelation. _"I never believed that the Maker or Andraste put this thing on my hand. I am what I have made myself to be."_

_"And now you may be certain. But do you truly believe that no higher power aided you?"_ Justinia inquired curiously. _"That you lived while so many perished, that the Anchor passed to you was all an accident?"_

_"Any credit of my survival and success goes to my gods, not the Maker!"_ Rajmael rebuked sternly. _"The Anchor Corypheus seeks is elven magic, and to elven hands it returned to. And it is to the elven gods I give my praise, the Maker has nothing to do with me."_

_"Then hold your faith close to your heart. You will need it if you are to leave this place."_ Divine Justinia said softly. "_You cannot escape the Lair of the Nightmare until you regain what it stole from you."_ The whole realm rumbled and creaked, like a thunderous growl shook the whole world. _"It knows you are here. You must make haste. I will prepare the way ahead."_ The whole realm shook once more, and when they looked, the Divine had disappeared.

Everyone readied to move out, and Stroud noticed a bitter look on The Champion's face._ "Is something troubling Hawke?"_

_"Your damned right something is troubling me, Stroud."_ Hawke seethed_. "Those were Grey Wardens, they were serving Corypheus. They helped him open the Breach!"_

_"I assumed their minds, as he had before. You have seen him do such things before, Hawke!"_ Stroud defended. _"Come, we can argue about this later."_

_"Oh, I intend to do more than argue."_ The Champion promised.

_"Could that have really been the Divine, Cassandra?"_ Varric asked.

_"I...do not know, Varric."_ Cassandra answered. _"She seemed eager to help us just as The Most Holy would. The way spoke it...I cannot be certain. Nothing in the Fade is what it seems."_

_"Even if she were just a spirit in disguise, I don't think it was a demon. No demon would be so helpful without demanding something in return."_ Dorian informed. _"And from what she said about this Nightmare, I certainly won't turn down a helping hand."_

_"It sounds like a fear demon, as I mentioned before."_ Solas reminded. "_It feeds off the most fearful of memories, and steals them to make itself stronger."_

_"It feeds not because it's hungry, but because it delights in the taste of fear and suffering.. It takes pleasure in stealing their pain so it can laugh at them, and then create more fear, more pain."_ Cole spoke like a frightened boy that just woke up from a bad dream.

_"Stealing memories from people? That's low, even for a demon."_ Varric condemned. _"Memories are a art of what makes us who we are, and then to just steal that for a midnight snack? This thing is evil."_

_**"Awww. I'm not all that bad, once you get to know me. Heh-heh-heh." **_That voice seemed to come from all around them. It echoed off the walls, vibrated through the air and descended from the very sky. It was like a voice they all remembered from a forgotten nightmare that sent a wave of dread through their very souls. **_"So the wandering little elf has come to steal back the fear I so generously lifted from his shoulders. You should have left your fears where it lay. Forgotten. Do you think the pain will make you stronger? What idiot filled your head with such drivel? Haven't you suffered enough pain, Rajmael? You've suffered so much already, do you truly want more pain to plague you?"_**

Rajmael heard the demons words as though it were speaking right into his pointed ears.

_"You must not listen, Inquisitor."_ Solas spoke. _"Fear demons feed off of doubt, and will seek to weaken your resolve. Make you give into fear."_

_"All demons seek to lead mortal astray. You must not give into its words."_ Cassandra added.

_**"Ah. But you, and all those with you, are a guests here in my home."**_ The Nightmare laughed._** "Let me return what you have forgotten."**_

The very walls began to writhe and crawl with life. The most vile spiders Rajmael had ever seen. Unlike the giant spiders of the real world, these things were black as tar, covered in slime, with dripping fangs, but most frightening of all, their many giant eyes were gleamed like cat eyes, and filled with hunger. The hissed and chittered at their would be meals, the fangs drooling with hunger. No one really knew this, but Rajmael actually hated spiders.

Everyone fought the heinous little creatures, all of them bearing looks of repulsed looks of disgust. A pillar of fire billowed from Dorian's staff as he burned the creatures away, while Cassandra hacked away at them with revilement painted on her face. Hawke swung the Celebrant, and even stomped on them with his mailed boots as Varric shot them as quickly as he could. Everyone breathed a little easier when they killed these newest monstrosities.

_"What in Andraste's name where those things!?"_ Hawke asked looking like he was going to puke.

_"Those were minor fears, mimicking spiders, something many people fear."_ Rajmael answered.

_"Spiders? All I saw were maggots crawling in filth!"_ Cassandra admitted with disgust.

_"These creatures take the form of whatever frightens or disgusts us."_ Solas informed. _"These are merely servants to the true ruler of this realm. We must be careful."_

_"Wait, you're scared of spiders, Inquisitor?"_ Varric asked disbelievingly.

_"I had a bad experience with a Vartarrel when I was an apprentice to Keeper Deshanna, okay!?"_ Rajmael admitted with embarrassment. _"What did you see?"_

Varric shuddered. _"Trust me, you don't want to know."_

_"They scurry to the scraps the Nightmare leaves behind, searching, starving, wanting more."_ Cole said balefully. _"They want to be like it, but are too scared. So they do its bidding. The other spirits cannot see or be anything else, they show what s strongest here."_

_"We must press on."_ Stroud insisted. _"We must continue forward and find the Divine if we are to make it out of this horrid place."_

The further they ventured into this realm, the more freakish and alien spirits' wailing became more specific, screaming in the modern tongue and in languages long dead and forgotten to history. How old was this creature that the spirits of this realm screamed in tongues of ancient Elvhen, Dwarvish and tongues that Rajmael didn't even recognize? And the further they went, the more the Nightmare mocked them.

_**"Perhaps I'm the one who should be afraid. Facing the most powerful members of the Inquisition."** _The Nightmare laughed._** "Like you Dorian...it is Dorian isn't it? For a moment I mistook you for your father: a hypocrite and a liar, who cares only for his own selfish wants."**_

_"Oh, come on, that's just uncalled for."_ Dorian brushed off sarcastically. _"That really stings."_

_**"Aw. Cole, the lost little Spirit of Compassion. I can help you, you know. Just like how you help other people. We have so much in common. We both steal the bad memories and pain from mortals, like thieves in the night."**_

_"No. You are wrong."_ Was all Cole would say.

_**"Dirth ma, harellan. Ma banal enasalin. Mar Solas ena mar din."**_

_"Banal nadas."_ Solas denied.

Wait. What did Solas and the Nightmare just say? Rajmael was distracted by one of the fearlings that attacked. He recognized a few of the words, but didn't hear the rest. What did they say?

_**"Since the day you first met, all you've ever done is bring Hawke nothing but pain, Varric. You found the red lyrium. You brought him to Corypheus' prison and unleashed destruction on the world. Is there anything you don't ruin? Your brother, your friends. Bianca?"**_

_"Just keep talkin' Smiley. It's gonna make shooting you in the face feel even better."_ Varric promised. The Nightmare just laughed at him.

_**"Your Inquisitor is a fraud, Seeker Cassandra, and you know it. An elven pagan, and a mage that despises your beloved Chantry, and even a monster like me can't blame him. In your heart, you know you do not truly care for him. You warm his bed at night and pretend to love this false Herald of Andraste to try and ignore the fact that you know that your Maker is a lie, and all your faith has been for naught."**_

_"Die in the Void, demon!"_ Cassandra cursed angrily. _"I'll send you there myself."_

_**"Warden Jean-Marc Stroud, last of a pitiful family that couldn't survive The Game. How does it feel to forget your whole family and devout your whole life to the Wardens? Worse yet, how does it feel to know that you, not Clarel are responsible for their destruction, because you failed? When the next Blight occurs, and it shall, will the world curse your name?"**_

_"With the Maker's blessing we will end this nightmare!"_ Stroud declared.

_**"Ahh. Garret Hawke. Scion of House Amell. Basalit-An, and Champion of Kirkwall. Do you think anything you've ever done matters? The only thing that defines your life is your repeated failures. You failed to defeat the Blight at Ostagar. You failed to save Carver from that Ogre, and Bethany from the Templars. You let Quentin butcher your mother and mutilate her body because you were too busy playing hero in a dying city. You couldn't save your family or your city. How do expect to defeat a god? Merill and Isabella are going to die, or maybe I'll make them my new playthings."**_

Hawke gritted his teeth, and his fists shook as they angrily held the Celebrant in his grip. "Now you've made it personal. No one threatens Merril and Isabella, and no one talks about my mother and lives."

_**"Rajmael Yonwyn Lavellan. There is nothing more accursed than a traitor and a kinslayer. What will you tell little Eva when she asks for the truth? Will you tell her you murdered her father, your adopted brother, to protect and serve the humans and their Chantry, even after everything they did to you and your people. You let Cassandra, a woman who would spit on your gods and your culture if it meant serving the Maker, take Evanura's place in your heart. Do you even remember what Evanura looks like? Nethras and Evanura curse you in the afterlife, and will reject you when you die. You have forgotten what it means to be Dalish, to be an elf. You are a...seth'lin elvhen'alas."**_

Several enraged veins pulsed on Rajmael's forehead and his golden eyes burned with rage, but his face remained as stone. _"Alright, I call dibs on this thing. And I'm going to kick its ass out of its mouth. You hear that, asshole!? I'm gonna kick your ass so far up your throat you'll be shitting out of your mouth! Emma banal harel ar! Ma emma harel!"_

They made their way to another stone plateau filled with rivers of the vile excrement of the Fade, and columns of lyrium. And once again, Divine Justinia stood there waiting for them with that warm smile of hers.

Rajmael was less than enthusiastic to see the Divine again._ "Okay, I'm just going to ignore the fact that you, an elderly woman who probably couldn't fight your way out of a sewing circle, somehow made it pass all that god-forsaken piece of hell we just had to fight through, and made it here ahead of. Provided, of course, that you have a piece of helpful information. Like the fuck what the fuck are supposed to do now?!"_

Divine Justinia pointed toward some kind of monument in the middle of the plateau. _"You must go forward and face what awaits you there. Your final memory awaits you on the other side of this graveyard. But be warned, if you cannot face what is here, you will not be able to leave this place."_

_"You want to give me some specifics? Like what will we have to face in this particular part of the Fade?"_ Rajmael asked satirically.

_"Only what you carry with you."_ The Divine answered ominously.

_"Okay, that wasn't cryptic. I'm just gonna go over here and kill what ever is holding my memory. Okay?"_

They cautiously walked over to the group of monuments in the middle of this place. They discovered the stone markers here weren't merely decorations. These gravestones each bore the name of all Rajmael's companions, and their greatest fears. Was this what the Nightmare plagued on? What it intended to use against them? Rajmael studied the gravestones with the names of the companions that weren't with him at the moment.

Sera's fear was nothingness. Strange, considering that her head was full of nothingness.

Blackwalls was...himself? Why would he be his own greatest fear? Was it some kind of great sin he committed, or afraid of what he might do?

Iron Bull feared madness. Understandable. The whole point of the Qun was meant to suppress the Qunari's naturally savage compulsions, and Iron Bull spent most of his life reinforcing the Qun's laws, and protecting his people from the savage Tal-Vashoth. Now that he was Tal-Vashoth, he feared he would become as savage as they are.

Vivienne's greatest fear was irrelevance. That was not unexpected. Vivienne spent her life gaining power and using both the Circle and The Great Game as he stepping stone to power. Now that the world was changing around her, she feared she would no longer maintain her place in it. A selfish fear, and one that Rajmael knew was her sole reason for joining the Inquisition.

Cassandra feared helplessness, something only someone as strong as her would fear. Something she never wanted to be ever since she helplessly watched her brother Antony die at the hands of malificar, a fear that became real when she witnessed the Conclave explode, and everything she swore to defend die.

Solas was afraid of dying alone. Strange. Beyond strange, in fact. Rajmael knew that for all the hahren's polite nature and wisdom, he was, in fact, a loner. he had spent most of his life alone, wandering the world for ancient ruins and memories. Solas preferred his own company to anyone else's, except for spirits, and he disassociated himself from all elves, Dalish and city-born alike. Why would a hermit like Solas be so scared of dying alone?

Varric's fear was becoming his parents of all things. Varric has defined himself by being exactly what dwarves are not. He didn't want to be the backstabbing nobleman who fixed Provings, and knelt to the ancestors for every little thing. A deshyr who cared more for a person's social standing and Caste than who they truly were as people. He wanted to only ever be Varric, a story-teller who frequented taverns to get drunk with friends.

Dorian feared falling into temptation. Not the kind of temptation that demons offer to mages, but the kind of temptation power offers to otherwise good men. This kind of temptation is the true cause behind all ruin. Being tempted by greed, by power, and use any excuse, no matter how justified to give in to these desires. These were the temptations that ruled Tevinter, what has led Tevinter into such a severe decline. And it was the temptation that turned Alexius from being an otherwise decent man, and into a servant of a heinous evil.

Even a spirit could feel fear. Perhaps spirits feel fear most of all. And in Cole's case, he feared despair most of all. Despair was one of the most potent poisons of all, and Rajmael had suffered enough despair to know this as fact. It consumes a persons soul until it drowns out everything else, and only your pain remains. Despair was the absence of hope. And without hope, there can be no compassion. And compassion, is one of the rarest, most precious things in the whole world.

Rajmael approached his own gravestone. It wasn't grim or frightening like the others. It was a grand masterpiece crafted by a brilliant sculptor, and Rajmael hated it. It depicted him wielding a Templar's sword, wearing the traditional garments of the Chantry's faithful, and carrying the Chantry's banner. Beneath his feet, he was standing over the slain bodies of his fellow elves. At the base of the sculptor it read:

_Inquisitor Rajmael, Herald of Andraste._

_The Foremost Champion of The Chantry._

_Savior of The Faith, Loyal Servant of the Maker._

_Kinslayer, Traitor To The Elven People._

Every word etched into that stone cut Rajmael worse than any sword ever could, because it was everything he ever feared. It was the fear that lingered in the very depths of his heart, and it was this. His greatest fear ever since he joined the Inquisition was that he would end up abandoning his heritage and culture as an elf. That by serving the Inquisition, he would forsake his people and their beliefs. That he would abandon the Creators of the Elvhen for the humans absent Maker. It was this fear, not Corypheus and his Venatori that kept Rajmael awake at night.

_"Turn and face me...Little Brother."_ That familiar voice was filled with hatred. Rajmael turned, and was faced once again by the image of Nethras, the brother he killed. Nethras' eyes and face were twisted with rage, and his Bora'nan was clenched tightly in his fist, his knuckles white with anger. _"You betrayed me, Rajmael! You murdered me for the Chantry, and turned your back on our people! It makes me sick that you bare the name Lavellan. My father should have left you on that pyre to die! You've done more for these shems, than you ever have for our people! You are...harellan!"_

Everything Nethras said was true, or may as well have been. It was everything Rajmael said to himself. _"You...are not Nethras."_

_"You think so? You think that I have crossed over to the Beyond and have found my peace with Falon'din?"_ Nethras berated._ "How can I be at peace when a traitorous bastard like you still walks the earth?! I should have been the one to lead our people to take back what the humans stole from us, while you're content to let them enslave us! I should be the one representing the Creators, while you devout yourself to the Chantry that destroyed our people! I should be the one alive right now raising Eva, instead of a traitor like you who sleeps with the same Chantry dogs who murdered Evanura! I gave you every chance to aid our people, and you killed me for it. You betrayed us!"_

Whatever this thing was, it wore his brother's face well. It knew the anger in his heart, and the reasons why he reformed the Vir Banal'ras. But this creature did not know the truth of Nethras' soul, not like Rajmael did. In his heart, Rajmael knew the truth.

_"No. You are wrong. I am guilty only of trying to represent my people in this era of change. I've led this Inquisition and honored the Creators by following the Dirth'ena enasalin. Nethras knew this! He chose his path, and he walked it well and with honor! You shame my brother's memory by invoking his image! Be gone!"_

_"Hrrr! You will not reach The Nightmare. You will never leave this place!"_ The imposter hissed through a serpentine tongue slithering out of his mouth. _"I will flay your flesh and devour your organs!"_

The false Nethras' face cracked with what looked like fire beneath his skin and horns sprouted from his head. His hand merged with his Bora'nan turning his arm into a twisted sickle, while his other hand turned into a gnarled claw. Before the creature could finish its grotesque transformation, and follow through with his threat, Rajmael drew the enasalin and cut the false Nethras' head from his twisting neck. The veilfire purified the vile creature's body, and he burned away like white ash, leaving Rajmael's lost memory behind.

With this demon slain and gone, Rajmael took back the memory that had been stolen from him. Once more the images of his past played out before all of them, and they witnessed the events that happened after the Conclave was destroyed. Both Rajmael and Divine Justinia found themselves within this very part of the Fade, but more astonishingly, they were here in the flesh, not as dreamers. The Holy and the Dalish elf were both running from the fearlings, trying to reach the Rift that had been opened and get through to safety on the other side. They climbed a steep cliff to reach their exit into the real world, followed closely by the spider-like demons.

_"Keep running! We're almost there!"_ Rajmael yelled as he tried to hold off the demons from getting to the Divine.

_"The demons!"_ Justinia cried as they took hold of her. Rajmael grabbed her hands, and vainly tried to keep hold of her. But even with his Shimmering Shield activated, and all his strength enhanced, he was unable to take her back from the demons' grip. Justinia looked at Rajmael with a look of forgiveness, and acceptance, and whispered, _"Go."_ and she released her hands from the elf, letting the demons take her so they wouldn't take him. Rajmael had no choice but to emerge through the Fade alone.

_"That was when you emerged from the Fade at Haven. When our soldiers found you."_ Cassandra remembered that day well, and now felt extremely guilty for how she treated Rajmael when she first met him.

_"It was you."_ Rajmael said nostalgically. _"Back at Haven, everyone thought it was Andraste who guided me out of the Fade, but it was actually the Divine standing behind me. And then you...she died."_

_"Yes."_ The Divine answered sadly.

_"Then this creature is simply a spirit."_ Stroud said crestfallen.

_"I think we all knew that was the actual truth."_ Hawke reminded.

_"I am sorry if I disappoint you."_ The false Divine apologized.

_"You're less of a disappointment than the real Divine was, at least."_ Hawke admitted.

The Divine looked at them all with a look of sadness and truth on her face. She lifted her arms, and her whole being burned with a gentle white light that engulfed her enveloped her in a flash of light, and emerged as a floating spirit of light. Her face was obscured by the light radiating from her, but she possessed all the grace deserving of such a gentle being, and she still bore the miter of The Most Holy upon her head. The light coming off her was like a softly burning torch glowing in the bitter dark.

Rajmael needed to understand more. _"Are...you her memory? A spirit reflecting the Divine and the memory of who she was?"_

_"If that is the story you wish to tell, it is not a bad one."_ The spirit answered in a majestic voice.

_"She's beautiful."_ Cole said in awe.

_"What we do know is that the real Divine, and the whole Conclave, perished thanks to the Grey Wardens."_ Hawke reminded angrily.

Stroud was in no mood for Hawke bitterness._ "I told you before Hawke, the Grey Wardens responsible for that crime were under the control of Corypheus. We can discuss this further once we return to Adamant."_

_"Assuming of course we can get back there, because your stupid Commander got us here in the first place. And if the Wardens haven't completely doomed the world with the demon army they summoned, because that was such a good idea."_ Hawke criticized.

_"How dare you judge us?"_ Stroud demanded._ "You tore Kirkwall apart and started the Mage Rebellion!"_

_"I didn't see the Grey Wardens getting off their ass to do anything good! After what the Wardens did to my father and the rest of my family, I have every right to judge you!"_ Hawke spat back. _"You would let the world burn to the ground and do nothing while people suffer, but then you demand everything from the world you alienate yourselves from when it suits your goals. You Wardens with your antiquated, self-righteous sense of duty will stoop to any low if it means accomplishing your goal, and you give the people no say in how they want to be saved. If your Order is willing to destroy so many lives, and give in to temptation so easily, then maybe we'd be better off without you!"_

_"Perhaps Ser Hawke is right. This blind obsession with the darkspawn and inethical approach to Blights is far too dangerous to trust."_ Solas agreed.

_"They hurt their own people, and we're willing to kill even more to for their own plans. Send them away. You must send them away."_ Cole spoke.

_"Agreed."_ Cassandra added. _"They've already caused enough damage, send them away before they do any more harm."_

_"You're so willing to rebuild the Seekers, despite the damage they've caused for a thousand years, but are willing to discard an Order that has repeatedly saved the world, Cassandra?"_ Dorian pointed out._ "What if Corypheus calls another Blight, or if it happens again later? Is the Chantry going to save us from the next Archdemon?"_

_"There are some good Wardens out there, like Blackwall, Nathaniel, and the Hero of Ferelden."_ Varric reminded. "_But a lot of the Grey Wardens I knew ended up going crazy, but that's probably just my own rotten luck."_

Rajmael was actually more concerned about the fact that they were still in the Fade than the situation with the Wardens. _"Girls, girls, please! We can fight over this later, but for now, maybe we should figure out how to get the fuck out of here?"_

_"Inquisitor!"_ The look of anger on both Stroud and Hawke's faces turned to alarm when they noticed the minor fear demons returning to kill them.

_"The Nightmare has found us."_ The Spirit of Justinia cried.

Hawke d ceased their arguing and stood ready for battle. _"Form up!"_ Hawke yelled.

_"I'm with you!"_ Stroud declared.

**Back At Adamant...**

Blackwall couldn't believe this was actually. He had heard the stories, they all had, of Aedan Cousland's mastery of combat and his legendary rage, but most of them thought they were just exaggerations. But they were not. Those tales were far from bing exaggerated. Aedan Cousland singlehandedly delivered them from the cusp of defeat, he also renewed their hope, brought valor with him. And it was this valor he brought that made them fight back so well against the endless waves of demons. But even with the Hero here, they had no chance to seal the Rift without the Inquisitor here. But even then there was this made hope, hope against all hope. They could do it. They could win.

The shield wall formed by the Hero of Ferelden was all but invincible. The demon hacked and clawed at them, but got nothing except of face full of cold steel. They tried to use their elemental attacks on the phalanx, fire and ice, and even lightning, but Cullen's Templar training was too effective.

Blackwall and Cullen were both leading the phalanx in the Pincer Formation, the flanks angled the shield wall into an acute triangle shape, forcing the demons to funnel between two walls of steel and were hacked to pieces on all sides. Cullen's Templar sword, blessed and enchanted cut through the demons like paper, while Blackwall's mace, Thunderstrike, cracked like thunder every time it hit a demon and made whatever part he hit explode in a ball of lightning. The further they tried to get from the Rift, the more likely they were to die.

Nathaniel, Leliana, Sera and Vivienne rained death from above on all of the demons wedged between the Pincer Formation. Vivienne ice spells froze them solid, while Leliana used her blessed arrows to excise the demons, Nathaniel used his explosive arrows tipped with Dworkin Glavonak's lyrium sand explosives to devastating effect. And Sera threw her alchemical vials at the demons, making them explode like jars of lightning and wild fire on the enemies, and against demons, Sera had no plans off getting up close. The more clustered they were, the more likely they were to die.

Iron Bull, Oghren, Sigrun and Aedan were separated from the phalanx. Fighting so defensively was not their style. They would rather be charging headlong into death's embrace, and fight right smack in the middle of the demons. And that's exactly what they were doing. They waded out into the middle of this ocean od demons and death, and fucked their day up. Iron Bull was getting hit, but in only mad him stronger, for every one hit he took, he took out four more demons. Oghren fought with that reckless sense of abandon, screaming like a madman swinging his hammer. Nothing could penetrate his dwarven armor, and nothing could with stand his Berserker Battle Rage. Sigrun fought no different than Oghren, the dwarven woman was laughing her head off as she darted across the field, flanking and eviscerating any and every demon in her way. Her armor provided extra protection while her rogue training made her move like a bronto dipped in mercury. Anything within thirty feet of them was going to die.

Aedan fought closest to the Rift, nothing would get past him. He would switch between using his axe to cleave them into two and dismember them, and then he would use his bare hands to rip off their heads, smash their bodies and crush their souls. All this death he caused, all the pain he inflicted, made him stronger as he fed off the entropic energies of death and agony. His wounds healed the instant he was injured, and the more they injured him, the stronger he became. Soon, some of the demons even tried slithering back to the Rift, to escape the horrific fate that was awaiting them here in the real world, but it was futile. Nothing escapes Aedan Cousland. Aedan was having so much fun, he couldn't help but hum. And then sing.

_Men of Redcliffe stop your dreaming_

_Can't you see their spear points gleaming?_

_See warrior pennants streaming_

_To this battlefield _

Oghren knew this song by heart now, and couldn't help but join his old Commander. The song carried over the sounds of battle and reached the ears of Leliana and Nathaniel. Leliana couldn't help but smile, her heart soared with confidence, hope and valor. The first time she heard this song, they won a great victory, she was compelled to join in. Nathaniel knew this song better than he did the Chant of Light, it was a reminder of the Fereldan spirit, and it reminded them of what they were all truly capable of. Soon the song carried out through all the ranks and was sung on the lips of every soldier, even if they weren't Fereldan. This song reminded them of what true valor was, and it gave them the strength to fight on.

_"What are they doing?!"_ Vivienne asked in disbelief.

_"They's just...singing."_ Sera answered obliviously. She wished she knew the words, where did she hear that song before?

_Men of Redcliffe, Stand ye steady_

_It cannot e're be said ye_

_For the Battle were not ready_

_Stand and never yield!_

_From The Hills rebounding_

_Let this War Cries sounding,_

_Summon all_

_To Moira's Call_

_The Might Foe's surrounding._

_Men of Redcliffe on to Glory_

_This shall ever be your story_

_Heed these burning words before ye_

_Fereldan never yields!_

It was working. The men found a new strength in the words, meaning and history of this song. They could it. The Inquisition could hold this line. They could win.

**Back in The Fade...**

Rajmael and the others finished killing the wave of demons the Nightmare had sent after them. Even after everything it sent after them, even in the heart of its own realm, The Nightmare still failed to kill them. Rajmael could sense its displeasure, and it made him smile.

**"Do you really think you can fight me? I am your every fear come to life! Even with that infernal creature fighting with your doomed men, I am invincible! I am the veiled hand of Corypheus himself! That demon army you fear? The one Corypheus has summoned, and that pretender in the physical world vainly fights against? I command it! They are bound all through me."**

_"Ah. So if we banish you, we banish the demon army. Thank you, every fear come to life."_ The spirit of Justinia said graciously. The Nightmare roared in rage, having foolishly revealed the way to defeat it through its own arrogance.

_"Wait it minute. Who was he talking about? What infernal creature? What pretender? Who is leading my men?"_ Rajmael asked confused.

_"I see...so at long last, that warrior has found a way to combat this creature. He has been trying for so long. You will discover who it is in time."_ Justinia answered. _"First you must defeat this demon. Close the door shut on it and banish it to the farthest reaches of the Fade where it will be muted, starved and forgotten."_

They could see the Rift now, it was so close Rajmael could almost feel it through his mark. They just had to go a little farther.

_"Look! There's the Rift! We're almost through!"_ Hawke yelled.

_"Great, Hawke. Why not just ask for the Old Gods to come down here and try and stop us while you're at it."_ Varric said sarcastically.

They ran to the Rift it was just in range now, they could leave this forsaken place. But where was The Nightmare? Another one of the mountains in the Fade began moving, it was no surprise at this point. But was it moving on...legs? The mountain turned, and they realized too late that this wasn't a part of the Fade's geography. It was the Nightmare itself.

_"Holy shit!"_

It was so big, none of them noticed it. Like its underlings that had been hounding them, it was a giant spider, more hideous and stomach churning than anything that could possibly exist in the real world. A mouth like a crevice split down from its face and down to its underside, with dozens of dripping tongues hanging between rows of spear-like teeth. The mountainous, loathsome spider abdomen pulsated with life, and was crawling with a colony of fearlings living inside the grotesque creature, like parasites. Hundreds of hungry, angry eyes dotted it's whole being, on its head, body, mandibles and even it legs. And every single one of those eyes was looking right at the Inquisitor. And they looked pissed.

It moved forward with a single step that shook the very ground. How were they going to fight this thing?!

A beam of light cracked through the air like holy lightning, and struck the Nightmare down on it's vile belly, and making causing a small earth quake. The Spirit of Divine Justinia floated towards the lethargic creature burning with a cleansing light that made the Nightmare screech in a thousand pained screams.

_"If you could please tell Leliana something for me; I'm sorry. I failed you, too."_ The Spirit of The Divine begged as she floated towards the crippled Nightmare. She burned like a star in the darkness as she engaged her demonic adversary. She erupted in a magnificent sun of brilliant light that sent repulsive creature to the ground, and incapacitated it.

They couldn't let that spirit's sacrifice be in vain. They had to move now. They ran to the Rift as fast as their legs could carry them. But before the could make it to the Rift, something emerged from the Nightmare's true form and got between them and the way out. Some sort of Aspect of The Nightmare was blocking their path. Why was it not facing them with its back turned? No matter. Rajmael did not come this far to be blocked now.

Rajmael drew his sword and cautiously approached the Aspect of Nightmare that refused to face him. This would end now. _"You've caused too much pain for me to not kick your ass, creature. Face me!"_

The Aspect turned to face The Inquisitor. And the form it took completely stunned Rajmael.

Cassandra didn't understand. What was this? Why would the Nightmare take a form such as this? It looked like an elven woman so beautiful that she couldn't be real. Long white-blonde hair that fell like a cascade of platinum down her shoulders. Her skin was a like the first undisturbed snow of winter, with delicate hands, and even from where she stood, Cassandra could see she had such brilliant green eyes, like two flawless emeralds. If Cassandra didn't know what this vision truly was, even she might have been jealous of such incredible beauty. What was this, and why did it seem to affect Rajmael so? Why did she look so familiar?

_"Evanura..."_ Rajmael gasped in disbelief.

What? This was Evanura? Eva looked just like her mother. The Nightmare was trying to make Rajmael lower his guard! The other tried to reach him, but some kind of barrier was blocking them. He was alone with this creature.

_"Aneth'ara, lethallan."_ Evanura greeted in that silvery voice that Rajmael had almost forgotten. _"It has been too long."_

Rajmael just stood there in utter silence completely stunned and at a loss for words. Here was the woman he loved his whole life, who was so brutally stolen from him by human ignorance. And now she stood before him like he had just seen her yesterday.

_"Rajmael, why? Why have you turned your back on our people?"_ Evanura's beautiful voice cracked with pain._ "Why have you forgotten me?"_

Cassandra beat her fist against the barrier and tried to yell out to The Inquisitor, but it was no use. He was deaf to their calls, and all they could do was watch as this demon, this Aspect of the Nightmare tried to weaken Rajmael's resolve. While Cassandra, Dorian and Varric tried to call out to Rajmael, Hawke, Stroud and Varric tried to hold off the fearlings that were closing in on them. Cole, on the other hand, was standing in front of some wandering spirits, humming some kind of tune like they were getting ready for a chorus.

_"Hey, Kid! What're you doing!? We could us a little help!"_ Varric called.

Cole was far too distracted with his fellow spirits to answer. _"Hmm...mmm...Men of Redcliffe, stop you're dreaming...see their spear points gleaming..."_

Still, the Inquisitor stood in silence. Whether entranced, or even thinking was anyone's guess.

Evanura extended her right hand pleadingly to Rajmael. And with her beautiful green eyes, she begged him to take. _"Please, don't leave me, Rajmael. You could stay here with me. We can finally be together, where no one could ever harm us."_

Several enraged veins bulged on Rajmael's forehead and pulsated furiously. His golden eyes turned into balls of fire as they burned with rage. In a flash like lightning, Evanura's extended arm went flying through the air and evaporated into ash after Rajmael cut it right off in a fit rage. _"You dare?! You DARE?! Evanura is gone! I've made my peace with that! And she was not a simpering fair maiden who waited for a prince to save her! You disgrace her memory by defiling her image!_ _Ar enaste ar'tu nadin! I will enjoy...**KILLING YOU!"**_

_"You won't live long enough to enjoy your next breath!"_ The Aspect of Nightmare turned back to Rajmael with a scorpion-like claw replacing the arm Rajmael hacked off. Evanura's beautiful façade gave way to the true demonic creature that wore it. A withered, gaunt creature with a head that looked like the body of a spider with massive, powerful legs kicking angrily and a tangle of gnarled limbs hung beneath a ragged robe. The Aspect of Fear made the barrier explode in a massive ring of fire as it prepared to attack. _"You will never leave this place!"_

_"No. You won't."_ Rajmael smiled. _"Do you hear that?"_

The Nightmare looked around, and everywhere it looked the once wailing spirits that were scattered all over this realm, repeating the terrors this creature fed off of, were now surrounding all of them. Cole also stood with them, and all they all stared down the Nightmare, it no longer held sway over them. Even Rajmael could feel the intense gaze of all the spirits. Something began to resonate from the crowd of spirits. It started to off so quietly, but then it lifted, grew louder as each voice filled the Fade. Soon all their voices resonated all around them in a powerful chorus of thousands of unafraid voices in a song of valor.

_Men of Redcliffe, stop your dreaming_

_Can't you see their spear points gleaming?_

_See their warrior pennants streaming,_

_To this Battlefield._

**"NOO! All of you! Silence!"** The Nightmare commanded. But they did not listen, he no longer commanded them. This song reflected the valor that flourished on the other side of the Fade.

_Men of Redcliffe, Stand ye steady_

_It cannot e're be said ye_

_For the Battle were not ready_

_Stand and never yield!_

_From The Hills rebounding_

_Let this War Cries sounding,_

_Summon all_

_To Moira's Call_

_The Might Foe's surrounding._

_Men of Redcliffe on to Glory_

_This shall ever be your story_

_Heed these burning words before ye_

_Fereldan never yields!_

Rajmael approached the now fearful demon with his sword drawn, and full confidence in his stride._ "You feed off the fear that the Blight inspires, but right now no one is afraid, are they? You tried to manipulate the fears in my heart, but that fear no longer exists, therefore you no longer exist. And that is your greatest fear, isn't it, Every Fear Come To Life? To be forgotten and no longer able to feed, and steal, and command the power those fears gave you? You will be forgotten, and you will never see the real world, or feed on our fears again!"_

_"N-no...please...not that."_ The Nightmare begged.

The Nightmare's pleas fell on deaf ears. This monstrosity had caused too much suffering for Rajmael to waste his mercy on. The mark on mark on Rajmael's hand crackled with life and his Shimmering Shield was now more like a halo of platinum white that blazed with awesome power. He held his sword above his head, the blade surged with power as a column of white veilfire burned straight into the sky like a great torch, illuminating the darkness of the Fade. Rajmael's whole being was engulfed in a corona of emerald green light.

_**"ENASALIN!"** _Rajmael's war cry echoed throughout the entire Fade, as he brought down his flaming sword down on the infernal Aspect of The Nightmare and burned it from all existence. It screams became nothing more than a dying echo, and then it was nothing at all. Just dead silence.

All the spirits slowly began to disappear from sight. With the Nightmare no longer commanding them, they no longer needed to remain here. Perhaps they'll find a better place in the Fade. One of dreams and hope than one of fear.

The halo around Rajmael dimmed and disappeared as he feel to his knees. Using so much power had completely drained everything out of him. With the Nightmare defeated, this realm of the Fade was beginning to crumble apart. This part of the Fade was being destroyed. They had to get out of here now, but Rajmael was too weak to even move now. Cassandra ran up to Rajmael and tried dragging him with her. Just a little further and they were home free.

But the Nightmare was not done yet. Its true form, the mountainous, heinous spider demon, dragged it's loathsome self over and blocked their path. Their was no way around it.

_"We need to clear a path!"_ Stroud shouted.

_"Go now! I'll cover you!"_ Hawke insisted.

_"Hawke, now's not the time to be a hero."_ Varric interrupted.

_"No, you were right, Hawke."_ Stroud admitted. _"The Grey Wardens caused this, and a Grey Warden must make it right."_

_"The Grey Wardens need you to help them rebuild."_ Hawke argued. _"I released Corypheus, I allowed him to escape and terrorize this world. I can at least take away his little pet."_

This was something Rajmael hated the most about being a leader: determining who lives and who dies. It was a burden that weighed heavily. Stroud was the only Warden capable of leading the rest of his Order towards the righteous path, and Hawke was a great hero and symbol that the world needed. There was no time to think, Rajmael chose the man whose sacrifice he thought would mean the most. May the Creators forgive him. _"Stroud..."_

_"Inquisitor Lavellan, it has been an honor fighting at your side."_ Stroud saluted and charged bravely to his doom, and did not flinch. _"In peace, vigilance. In war, victory. In death...SACRIFICE!"_ The Senior Warden fearlessly hacked and slashed the titanic monstrosity with vengeful tenacity, and the demon felt every stroke of Stroud's sword. The Nightmare was incredibly weakened, and he was able to hold it off from the others. As Stroud courageously fought back the Nightmare, and as this realm of the Fade crumbled and died around them, they jumped straight into the Rift and broke on through to the other side.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael and the others leapt right out of the mouth of the Fade, like a bat out of hell right into the middle of a raging battle. Rajmael was surprised to see both his soldier and the Grey Wardens fighting side by side, and winning against the demons. Sera, Vivienne, Leliana and Nathaniel stood on the ramparts shooting down anything that got in their sights, while Blackwall, Iron Bull, Cullen, Oghren and Sigrun were fighting in the thickest part of the battle. There was another warrior fighting alongside them, one Rajmael did not recognize. A warrior wielding a gruesome battle axe and blue Alamarii war pain tattooed on his face He was beyond fearsome, the level of destruction he inflicted was akin to that of a High Dragon. Holy shit. Aedan Cousland was here? No wonder they were kicking ass.

This was one of the most impressive battles Rajmael had ever seen, but it was time to end this. Rajmael lifted the Anchor, and just by simply clenching his marked fist, he sealed the Rift behind him like it was nothing. Without the Rift, the demons were no longer connected to the Fade, and instantly dropped dead. The Inquisition and Grey Wardens cheered triumphantly, the battle was their, despite the odds, and the Inquisitor once more returned from the depths of the Fade. It was nothing short of a miracle.

_"That spirit was right."_ Hawke stated confidently. _"Without The Nightmare to control them, the mages are free from it control, and Corypheus loses his demon army. But as far as they're concerned, the Inquisitor broke the spell with the blessing of the Maker."_

Rajmael scoffed with disinterest. _"That theory won't last long if I have any say about it."_

_"Ask Varric to tell them something. I know he'll come up with something epic."_ Hawke laughed.

Cullen approached and gave a relieved salute. _"Inquisitor! That Archdemon flew off as soon as you disappeared. The magister's alive...for the most part. I figured that you'd want to judge him for yourself. And as for the Wardens, the one who were not corrupted, they fought by our side against the demons. In fact, I dare say we might not have stood so well without their aid."_

A ranked Warden approached and saluted humbly with regret in his eyes. _"The remaining Wardens stand ready to make up for Clarel's...tragic mistake. Inqusitor, where is Warden Stroud?"_

After all the bullshit he just went through because of the Warden's foolishness, Rajmael was not in the mood to sugarcoat the truth._ "Warden Stroud is dead! He died to save the world from your lunacy! And unlike the rest of you, he actually chose to fight against the servant of the Blight. He alone stood against Clarel's insanity, and you branded him a traitor for it! He died to save you from your own stupidity!"_

_"Inquisitor, without Stroud, the Wardens of Orlais have no one of sufficient rank. Who will lead us?"_ The Warden officer asked.

_"That's not true."_ Blackwall pointed out. _"We still have the Hero of Ferelden."_

_"Tch. Don't be looking at me for sympathy."_ Aedan scoffed. _"This isn't my operation, and you don't want to know the fate I'd inflict on you Orlesian dipshits for this cluster-fuck. You'd better hope the Inquisitor is more merciful than I am."_

_"Our Order lies in Ferelden. We must return there, not linger here."_ Nathaniel added.

After everything they did, and everything that could have happened thanks to their obsession with the Blight, Rajmael knew these men deserved to be punished. But they were misled, and almost brought to ruin because of Corypheus who was a true master of deception. Sometimes what the world needed was mercy, not more punishment. "You will remain, and you will do whatever you can to make up for this travesty you've caused. Some of you are still vulnerable to corruption, but I'm willing to honor Stroud's sacrifice to let you actually try and save this world for once."

_"We...we will honor what you and Stroud have done for our Order."_ The Warden promised.

_"Even after everything they've done, you would still give them a second chance?"_ Cassandra asked disbelievingly.

_"Yes. Just like you would give the Seekers a second chance even after what they did."_

_"But they hurt people!"_ Cole reminded.

_"So did you. You of all people should know how terrible some mistakes are, and how badly compassion is needed, Cole."_

_"And you choosing compassion over judgment may prove to be a mistake in the future."_ Solas warned.

_"Hey, if some Vint asshole who created the Blight is walking around fucking shit up, the best people to have in your corner is the Wardens."_ Iron Bull insisted.

_"I'm glad you agree. The Blights still threaten the world. And getting rid of the Wardens does nobody any favors."_ Blackwall reminded on behalf of his Order.

_"Well, while you're doing that, I'll make for Hossberg in the Anderfels. The Wardens at Weisshaupt need to know what's happened here."_ Hawke informed. _"But before I go anywhere, I've got a certain Rivaini pirate and Dalish mage to go see. After what I just saw in the Fade, I'm going to need a lot of their attention to forget all that creepiness."_

While Hawke and the rest of the Inquisition and Grey Wardens cleared out, Rajmael wanted to speak with the Hero of Ferelden. Rajmael probably owed the lives of all his men to Aedan Cousland. But when he looked for him, the Hero was gone. Strange. Someone like Aedan Cousland was difficult to miss. _"Leliana, Nathaniel, where is Aedan Cousland?"_

_"He was...just here a moment ago?"_ Leliana answered confused.

_"Look over there."_ Nathaniel pointed over to the ramparts. How did he get over there so quickly?

_"Hey, Aedan! Where the sod are you going already? We haven't even gotten to the drinking yet!"_ Oghren called over to him.

_"Something's got to be wrong. Aedan would never leave without saying a word."_ Sigrun said with concern.

They all followed after Aedan. There was too much left unanswered for him to just up and leave. They made their way over to the ramparts and saw him just looking over the ledge with a look of contentment on his face.

_"Something's definitely wrong here."_ Nathaniel pointed out. "_Even after Amaranthine was saved, Aedan never looked so...peaceful."_

_"Aedan? Aedan Cousland of Highever?"_ Rajmael called. Was there something wrong with him?

_"It's not him."_ Cole answered quietly.

Now Rajmael was confused. _"What? What are you talking about, Cole?"_

_"He wears the face of what strikes fear into the wicked. He is the last breath against defeat, the strength to stand against the darkness. He is the final hope against all hope."_

_"Isn't that just like a Spirit of Compassion. All heart and no tact."_ The Hero of Ferelden laughed in a manner too magnanimous to be Aedan Cousland.

_"Wait. If this isn't Aedan Cousland, then who is he?"_ Cassandra asked._ "Another spirit?"_

_"Yes."_ The False Aedan answered with a smile. Like the Spirit of The Divine, this one was filled with a light that burned away the façade he was wearing. It revealed a spirit clad in armor carrying a glowing bright axe.

_"No, no, no! Not more magic Fadey crap!"_ Sera denied.

_"Just how drunk am I? This can't really be happening."_ Oghren shook his head.

_"Aw shit! Not more of this weird crap!"_ Iron Bull grumbled.

_"Ugh. Just wonderful. More demons, like that creature Cole."_ Vivienne groaned.

_"It's...almost like Justice."_ Nathaniel remembered.

Solas almost didn't believe it himself. _"How could I not have noticed this?"_

_"This...will probably make the best story of all."_ Varric admitted calmly.

_"Who or what is he?"_ Dorian asked.

_"Valor."_ Cole answered.

_"Yes. Just as the Nightmare was a spirit who fed on the fears of the Blight, I am of a similar nature."_ The Spirit of Valor answered. _"I am the last bit of strength to stand against the darkness, even when doom is imminent. When the last brave dwarf makes one last stand against the darkspawn, I am there. I stand with those gallant men who charge headlong into darkspawn horde so others might live. And I was there when Corin, Garahel and Aedan Cousland slew Zazikale, Andoral and Urthemiel."_

_"You were the pretender, the warrior both Divine Justinia and the Nightmare spoke of."_

_"Yes."_ The spirit answered.

_"But why did you take the Hero of Ferelden's appearance? Why aid us?"_ Rajmael asked earnestly.

_"The Nightmare and I have fought for centuries upon centuries. He would feed off the Blight, while I tried to inspire those to fight against it."_ The Spirit of Valor answered. _"When the Rift here was ripped open to allow the Nightmare into this world, it also allowed me to enter here, and I took the form of the most Valorous soul to aid your people against the Nightmare, just as it would have aided Corypheus against you. And now, the Nightmare is destroyed, there is no need for me any longer."_

_"What will you do now?"_

_"I will do what I have always done and stand with those with the valor and courage to fight to their last breath against the darkness."_

_"Wait!"_ Leliana begged._ "Can you tell us anything about what has happened to the real Aedan? You've seen how badly we need him."_

_"I'm afraid I do not know, Sister Leliana."_ The Spirit of Valor answered gently. _"But do not fear. If even the smallest part of me is anything like the real Aedan Cousland, then he is someone I wouldn't want to fuck with." _Almost everyone laughed at such a true statement._ "You Rajmael Lavellan have shown the greatest amount of Valor of all. You stood and continue to stand against the darkness and you do not flinch or waver. I grant you my blessing. Now go forth and kick ass!"_

Rajmael felt a new strength well up inside him. He could feel the lyirum in his veins burning with power and his magic increase. Was this how spirits felt in the Fade?

_"Ma serannas, Elgar."_ Rajmael thanked sincerely.

_"Oh, and one more thing."_ The Spirit of Valor balled his fist and smashed it straight into Vivienne's face. Bones broke and Vivienne was sent flying ten feet away and crashed into a wall.

_"What the fuck!?"_ Iron Bull demanded.

_"Oh, I like him now."_ Sera giggled.

_"Okay, knowing Vivienne, she probably deserved that, but seriously, what the fuck?" Rajmael asked purely out of curiosity._

_"Oh, come on. You've met this bitch, and you know she earned that. It's exactly what Aedan Cousland would have done."_ The Spirit of Valor laughed as he disappeared back to the Fade.

So Rajmael just defeated a demi-god Nightmare spirit, stopped Corypheus from getting his hands on a demon army, and regained his lost memory thanks to the help of the Spirit of Divine Justinia. And all the while a Spirit of Valor was posing as one of the greatest heroes of all time. Perhaps the Creators were more on his side than he thought. Now Corypheus lost his political plo y and his army, soon the Elder One wouldn't have a leg to stand on, and the world, and Corypheus himself, would see just how mortal he truly was. But the first order of business was to maybe get the knocked out Vivienne to a healer, because Rajmael was pretty sure the Not-Aedan just broke her pretty face. Every time Rajmael looked at Vivienne from now on, he would remember this moment, and it would make him laugh at her.

**Language Codex:**

**Seth'lin Elvhen'alas: **A profane elven insult, roughly translates as _"Thin-blooded dirt elf."_

**Emma banal harel ar! Ma emma harel! **Elven threat, roughly translates as "_I do not fear you! You should fear me!"_

**Harellan:** Elven, translate as _"Traitor to ones' kin."_

**Ar enaste ar'tu nadin:** Elven threat, translate as "_I will enjoy killing you."_

**Enasalin:** Elven word, translates as _"Victory."_

**Ma serannas, Elgar:** Elven, translates as _"My thanks, Spirit."_

**Author's Note**

Alright! So I had all my heroes fighting under one roof, more or less. How did you all like it? I used a lot of references from my last story, and I even brought back song "The Men of Redcliffe". For those of you who don't know this song, or don't know what the hell my references are, I **STRONGLY** urge you to click my profile and read my first story "I am Aedan of Highever". Aedan's story is completely canon with Rajmael's and is a good read overall.

Please review and give me your thoughts. The Dragon Age Franchise and all character and concepts therein are the property of the BioWare gaming company. Everything if do if for the enjoyment of other Dragon Age enthusiasts, and I own and claim nothing. Please review.


	25. Judgment At Skyhold

**Judgement at Skyhold**

It was a new day at Skyhold. The most senior Grey Wardens accompanied the Inquisition's forces back to Skyhold, but given the severity of The Order's crime, they were not warmly received by everyone. Allowing the Grey Wardens to join the Inquisition would either help him down the line, or bit him in the ass later. But now Rajmael had some of the best warriors and tacticians in all of Southern Thedas willingly in his ranks, and they now had a grudge against Corypheus and his Venatori.

Rajmael and Leliana were walking around the rookery discussing what had just transpired. This disaster had been turned into a great victory. They needed to make the most of it.

_"Hawke is preparing to leave for Weisshaupt Fortress in the Anderfells. With luck he will be able to warn the Grey Wardens there from falling prey to Corypheus. As for the Wardens of the South, we have set them to work fighting against Red Templars and clearing out demons, while staying clear of the Venatori."_ As usual, Leliana's reports were thorough._ "With our victory at Adamant, you've dealt Corypheus a serious blow, Inquisitor."_

_"Rabid animals are at their most vicious when they're backed into a corner. We must expect Corypheus to start doing his worst now."_ Rajmael stated.

Leliana nodded her head. _"Agreed. While you bested him at Halamshiral and at Adamant, he himself wasn't present either times. We fear he may be getting closer to finding another method into the Fade. We must keep pressing on him and flushing the Venatori out."_

_"And to that end, we must continue to reign in support. Despite what happened, the Wardens still command great respect in the South. Use their Rite of Conscription to get us necessary supplies and call in any favors with the nobility who honor the Wardens."_ Rajmael instructed. _"Now that they're with the Inquisition, the Wardens can further our cause."_

_"A brilliant idea. I know just which doors to knock on to get such favors."_

Rajmael turned to leave and let Leliana set to her task.

_"What was she like?"_ Leliana asked facing away from the Inquisitor. _"Divine Justinia, or her soul, or the spirit that took her form. I read your report. I know it isn't clear, but..."_

_"She seemed...at peace. There was an undeniable serenity around her, and she guided us every step through the Fade."_ Rajmael could hear the desperate melancholy in her voice. She deserved to know at least that much.

_"That is good. It sounds...exactly like what she would do."_ Leliana admitted.

_"She did ask me to do one thing before she faced the Nightmare."_ Rajmael remembered. _"A message for you."_

_"For me?"_

_"Yes. She said, 'I'm sorry, Leliana. I failed you, too."_

_"Oh..."_ Leliana looked as though she might weep._ "I...know you did not care for The Divine, but thank you for telling me."_

_"What about The Hero of Ferelden? The Spirit of Valor that took his form. What was that like?"_

Leliana chuckled dryly._ "It was...I don't know how to describe it. The way he acted, spoke, even the way he fought, I truly believed in my heart that it was Aedan Cousland. When I saw him on the battlefield, slaying hordes of demons, and then leading us against the Rift, I felt that same sense of...victory, that I felt when we fought at Denerim. Like no matter what terrors we faced, we could still attain win. I had forgotten what that was like."_

_"And now, rumor is spreading everywhere that the Hero of Ferelden led our forces to victory against an army of demons. Our people's spirits have never been higher."_ Rajmael informed. _"It's ironic how Corypheus' plan to destroy us, only left us inspired to fight harder against him."_

_"Yes, I suppose you're right."_ Leliana smiled genuinely for the first time in a long time. _"I should finish my tasks before I forget. There are important matters I must cater to, but later there is something I would like your assistance with."_

**~XoXoXo~**

Most of them were still adjusting to what they saw at Adamant Fortress. It was a harrowing ordeal, and Rajmael committed himself to checking on all his companions to make sure everyone came out of it alright. But first he wanted to check on his allies. He found Nathaniel, Oghren and Sigrun at the stables, already preparing to leave.

_"Leaving so soon, Warden-Commander Howe?"_

_"I'm afraid so, Inquisitor."_ Nathaniel was securing his saddle on his horse. _"With the Wardens of Orlais now serving the Inquisition, we have to return to Vigil's Keep and make sure the Wardens of Ferelden do not fall under Corypheus' plans."_ The Fereldan nobleman turned to face the Inquisitor._ "I must say it has been an honor fighting with you, and on behalf of the entire Order, thank you for saving our brothers from themselves."_

_"Haven't seen so much destruction and arse-whipping power in a single being since Aedan Cousland. Er, the real one that is."_ Oghren complimented. _"You got a spirit of sodding steel, salroka. If you ever want to get together and swap stories over drinks, Ol' Oghren's buying the ale."_

_"I'm gonna miss your castle, Inquisitor."_ Sigrun admitted._ "The smell of the mountain air, grass and stone is so wonderful. I hope I can come back here someday."_

_"Our doors will always be open to you. To all of you."_ Rajmael promised.

_"And if you ever find yourself in Amaranthine, be sure to look for us at Vigil's Keep. You'll always have friends there. And perhaps, someday, you, Garret Hawke, and Aedan Cousland will fight together on the same battlefield." _Nathaniel said hopefully.

_"I'd give up my left dangler to see that!"_ Oghren guffawed.

_"I'm almost too scared to imagine that."_ Sigrun admitted.

Nathaniel proudly shook Rajmael's hand, and the Inqusitor watched as the three companions of Aedan Cousland of Highever walked down the road through the Frostbacks like warriors of legend.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael turned to return to his Keep, and was surprised to see Morrigan waiting for him. What could she want? She looked...anxious.

_"Inquisitor, I...I heard rumors, impossible though they may be...Is it true that...Was Aedan Cousland truly there?"_ Morrigan's tone was full of concern, and her eyes were begging for an answer. _"I heard from the soldiers that he drove the demons back into the Rift and helped turn the tide of battle. Is it true?"_

Rajmael shook his head regrettably. _"I am sorry, Morrigan, but no. A Spirit of Valor took Aedan's form to lead the soldiers against the demons. It captured him so thoroughly, it convinced all of us, even Aedan's companions that he was truly the Hero of Ferelden. It even fought with his fighting style."_

_"Aedan always was a...shimmering example to others."_ Morrigan laughed sadly. _"Still, I had hoped...I wished that...I suppose it doesn't truly matter. It is good that you saved the Grey Wardens from their own self-destructive foolishness. For all their eagerness to shed blood for their cause, we will still need them should another Blight arise. If my Warden had been there, Corypheus would certainly have another thing to be afraid of. A warrior who slew an Old God single-handedly is not someone to be ignored."_

A crazy idea struck Rajmael square in the head._ "It's an established fact that if Aedan Cousland is even indirectly involved with anything, he ruins his enemy's day. Could he help us against the Venatori."_

Morrigan paused for a moment to think. _"'Tis...unlikely. Corypheus uses the Blight, and is not controlled by it like a true darkspawn. Still, my love has ever been resourceful, and he is likely to bare the Elder One a grudge for the damage he's caused. I suppose I can send him a letter."_ Morrigan sighed and shook her head sardonically. _"He will think this means I miss him, of course, and he'll make sure I know it. I hope you appreciate this sacrifice, Inquisitor."_

_"I'm sure you suffering your lover's affection will be worth it if he can assist us."_ Rajmael chuckled.

Morrigan laughed in return. _"Very well. I shall get into contact with him immediately. I'm sure his assistance shall prove invaluable."_

**~XoXoXo~**

With his business with Morrigan and the visiting Fereldan Wardens completed, Rajmael felt it was time to check on some of his companions. There was one person in particular he wanted to see first, just because he knew it would bring a big smile on his face.

After using almost a dozen healing draughts, seeing several healers, and using her own magic as a Knight-Enchanter, Vivienne's face was finally perfectly mended after having the Spirit of Valor posing as Aedan Cousland broke her face. You could hardly tell any damage had been done to it, though she was very quick to reapply her makeup.

_"Ah. Inquisitor! I've been meaning to speak to you."_ The Imperial Enchanter stated with an unusual look of intent and curiosity on her face. _"You walked physically through the Fade. You must tell me, what was it like?"_

Rajmael knew that if he gave he an accurate description of what he saw in that region of the Fade, it would reinforce her already negative, closed-minded view on the world of spirits, and the world as a whole. He did not need to give her more ammunition. _"It was...incredible. In all the years that I have meditated and visited the Fade, never before had it reacted so strongly to my presence. My magic was stronger than it had ever been while I walked there."_

_"To have walked physically through the Fade. Such a thing has not been done since the Magisters of Tevinter created the Blight. I am positively envious right now. You will be epitome of magical achievement for centuries to come."_

Rajmael could detect the envy in her voice. _"Leave it to you, Madam de Fer, to turn a truly groundbreaking discovery into an empty status symbol."_

_"Darling, you should be proud of such an accomplishment."_ Vivienne insisted. _"The last time such a thing happened, the Magisters, in their foolishness, created the Blight, but you managed to stop a demonic invasion."_

_"The Grey Wardens have been crippled, and we lost a lot of good men on both sides, Vivienne. I don't relish in claiming fame when I have to tread over the bodies of so many dead."_

_"The Grey Wardens died because of their own foolishness, darling. If anything, this tragedy proves the true dangers that magic poses to the world."_ Vivienne reminded. _"You should remind the world the cost of such actions._

_"Oh, that's just classic you, isn't it, Vivienne?"_ Rajmael said with disgust in his tone._ "You'll use any excuse to reinforce your limited view on the world."_

_"It's not so much an excuse as it is a proven fact."_ Vivienne argued. _"The Warden mages, the Wardens themselves, have no oversight on them, and complete leeway with all the nations and access to forbidden magic. This disaster was a long time coming."_

_"Magic is never the cause, merely the means. Ignorance, arrogance, those are true causes of all ruin. And you, Vivienne, are walking right down that line."_

_"I beg your pardon?"_

_"You arrogantly think that just because you, with your high rank and position in court, that if you say it is true, it must be so. You're ignorant to any and all sense of thinking, suffering, and responsibility that exists outside of your marble mansion and your silk gowns. And frankly, it's starting to bore me."_ Rajmael criticized. _"I don't need a teacher, and I certainly don't need your opinion what facts truly are."_

_"Of couse not, dear. After all, you're the Inquisitor."_ Vivienne spoke with an undercurrent of venom in her voice and contempt in her eyes. _"But if you continue to make such irresponsible decisions, eventually, you'll find yourself in the center of tragedy."_

_"And I suggest you take your own advice, or you'll trip on your own mistakes, Vivvy."_ Rajmael spoke her name as an insult.

_"I think this verbal joust of our has run its course. Do be a dear and run along. I have important matters to tend to."_

Vivienne arrogantly turned her back on Rajmael, and he was half tempted to put a knife in it. But that would lower him to her level. After all, all Orlesian aristocrats are backstabbers. She would soon dirthara banal'enaras soon enough, he had no doubt.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael found Solas in the arbitrary adding to his ever growing elven fresco mural. Their was an angry grimace on the elven apostate's face as he carefully, but deliberately applied his art to the wall. Ever since this whole affair with the Grey Wardens began, Solas seemed particularly upset with the whole Order. After what the Wardens did at Adamant, Solas' opinion of the Order was especially sour. And Solas wasn't very fond of Rajmael's decision to recruit the remaining Wardens.

_"Something wrong, hahren?"_

_"I can't believe the Wardens could even attempt such a plan."_ Solas cursed angrily. _"To seek this Old Gods deliberately, in some bizarre attempt to preempt the Blight."_

_"The Wardens take up the mantle of defending the world, but don't give us a say in how we want to be defended."_ Rajmael commented in agreement. _"But the Wardens are the only people who step up to defend this world from the Blight. They live and die in horrid agony so the rest of us can judge them."_

_"Responsibility does not equal expertise. Action is not necessarily better than inaction."_ Solas retorted.

_"The last Blight only lasted a year, the shortest of all Blights. And in that time, over a million people were killed, and Ferelden still suffers from the after affects of it."_ Rajmael reminded._ "So what would you have them do? Sit on their hands and do nothing? Leave the world? Yes, their plan was horrid, and ill thought, but doing nothing is worse than failing."_

_"How do you know they would have succeeded? How did they?"_ Solas countered. _"The Blight is not something one smugly outmaneuvers!"_

_"And how would you know? How many times have you ventured into the Deep Roads to stop the darkspawn from surfacing?"_ Rajmael seethed. _"Maybe you've forgotten, but it's thanks to what the Warden's did ten years ago that you have the luxury to keep Dreaming. Or are you ignorant enough to have forgotten that?"_

Solas sighed despondently. _"Forgive me, but the whole notion is...unnerving. I suppose not everyone can be prepared for an enemy like Corypheus. At least you were there to stop him. And you were able to recover what you lost in the Fade. That in itself is a great victory."_

A chill went down Rajmael's spine as he remembered what he saw back in the Fade. _"What we saw in the Fade, that cannot truly be the Beyond's real form, can it?"_

_"The Fade takes many forms, all of them reflections of our world, or aspects of it. And some realms reflect off what the Spirit who rules that realm represents. The Nightmare was truly a unique, and very powerful spirit to command that realm so completely."_ Solas explained.

Rajmael remembered how perfectly the Nightmare reflected his deepest fears. How it knew everyone's personal nightmares. Then Rajmael remembered something that had bothered him ever since they were in the Fade. _"Solas when we where in the Fade, the Nightmare spoke to you in a dialect I wasn't familiar with. It was Elvish that much was clear, but I was too busy fighting to fully understand what it was saying."_

_"I'd be surprised if you weren't. It is an Ancient tongue. One that has not been spoken in millennia. I was only able to learn of it in my Journeys into the Fade and even then it took years to fully master it."_ Solas answered.

_"What did it say to you?"_

A look of deep sadness welled up in Solas' eyes as his face became crestfallen._ "...Forgive me Inquisitor, but that is something I do not wish to share with others. Like all fears It is something only I can overcome. Please, do not press further."_

Rajmael respected the hahren's word, and decided to leave him to continue his painting. Still, Rajmael's inquisitive mind could not help but be curious. What did the did the Nightmare say to him? Why was Solas' greatest fear dying alone?

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael found their residential Warden outside the stables chopping wood with focused determination. He wasn't in the mood to be working on his rocking-griffon like he usually did in his free time. Right now, all he wanted to do was hit something. Rajmael didn't blame him. He just watched the Order he had devoted his life to, his sole reason for living, almost bring the world to its knees, by summoning a demon army. And the worst part was, they did it willingly, all because they were manipulated by Corypheus.

_"Someone I knew once described Adamant to me."_ Blackwall told as he swung the axe._ "He said, 'Adamant was, and always will be, the Order', he said. A guardian on the edge of the abyss. The lone soul that stares into oblivion and does not falter." Blackwall split the next log in half with anger in his swing. "That's what Warden Clarel tried to be, what they all tried to be. What Corypheus did to those men and women at Adamant, it's not right. They willingly gave up their lives to save us, and Corypheus took their sacrifice, twisting it into his own!"_

_"Clarel gave into her fears, and allowed herself to be manipulated."_ Rajmael reminded. _"When Stroud protested her plan, she branded him a traitor. And in the end, she was wrong, and killed her own brethren for nothing."_

_"Because Corypheus pushed her in that direction!"_ Blackwall argued. _"Her desire to protect was so great, it lead her astray."_

_"The same thing could be said about what Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir did during the Blight."_ Rajmael reminded. _"He killed and betrayed so many of his people because he thought he was doing the best thing for his country. But you're right, there's no way anyone can prepare for a deceiver like Corypheus."_

_"It's not right, Inquisitor."_ Blackwall lamented._ "To want to do good, to be good, and have that turned against you. Stroud and Nathaniel stood strong, and even Clarel redeemed herself in the end."_

_"Stroud and Nathaniel both had the strength of character to stand up against their brothers when they were wrong. And you did as well."_ Rajmael reminded. _"That is the kind of strength we need, that the Wardens need. When things seem bleak, and when the right choice seems impossible, you choose it anyway, even when it seems easier not to take it."_

_"I know, and that's why I choose to keep fighting. Stroud, and even Clarel, both of them died great people. In the end, it's not the armor, or the trappings of the Order. Not even the... Joining that makes a Warden. At the heart of it all, all a Warden is, is a promise. A promise to protect and save others, even at the cost of your own life."_

_"And it's a promise I know you can fulfill, Blackwall."_ Rajmael encouraged.

_"I'm glad you think so. It's...why I became a Warden in the first place."_

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael knew how much demons scared Iron Bull, even if the colossal oxman would never admit it. Rajmael was surprised and a little bit disturbed to find Iron Bull in the training courtyard letting Cassandra beat him with a laundry pole. Rajmael couldn't tell if this was a training exercise or if it was some kind of post-intercourse ritual.

_"Again."_ Cassandra hit Iron Bull with the stick._ "Again!"_ Cassandra whacked the muscle-bound mercenary again with an annoyed look on her face. Iron Bull wasn't impressed._ "Oh, come on, Seeker! This is why we don't allow women to fight under the Qun!"_

Rajmael knew from personal experience that what Bull just said was a mistake, as evidenced by that dangerous look in Cassandra's eyes. She reared back that pole and smacked Iron Bull upside the chin with all her weight behind it. The stick connected with a loud *THWACK!* and Iron Bull went down like sack full of anvils.

_"Good one..."_ The oxman wheezed on his back.

Cassandra passed the whipping stick over to her lover. _"Here, Rajmael. You take over, I've had enough for one day."_

Rajmael held the stick in his hands while Iron Bull picked himself up and got ready for more. _"I don't know whether to be curious or disturbed by what this might be."_

_"Don't worry, Boss. It's just a Qunari training exercise to master one's fears."_ Iron Bull assured.

_"Oh, good. For a moment I thought this was what you did to get your rocks off before sex."_ Rajmael sighed with relief.

_"No, no. For that I use something...thicker."_ Rajmael stood there with a disturbed look on his face while a cricket chirped in the background. _"Look, just hit me with the damned stick already!"_

Rajmael held the stick like he would his sword and smacked it against Iron Bull's buff chest.

_"Oh, yeah! That's what I'm talking about!"_ Iron Bull grunted through the pain. Rajmael hit him again. And again. _"Damned demons!"_ *THWACK!* _"Think you can take me on!?"_ *THWACK!*_ "The Iron fucking Bull!?"_ *THWACK!*

_"But they didn't, did that? You sent them back to the Fade, crying like little girls."_ Rajmael encouraged between hits.

_"Fuck yeah, I did!"_ Iron Bull shouted._ "But the best part, was watching the Hero of Ferelden fuck their shit up like a pissed off, rabid dog! Wish you could've seen it boss."_

_"I've seen Aedan Cousland, the real one, in action before. Once upon a future."_ Rajmael reminded._ "The genuine article beats the shit out of the stories."_

_"Did you know the Qunari talk about him?"_ Iron Bull asked after getting hit in the stomach._ "The new Arishok fought alongside the guy, even said he was equal to Qunoran Vehl, One Who Is an Example To Others. That got him instant recognition by the rest of Qunari."_

_"Yeah? What else do they say about him?"_

_"That if possible, not to screw with him. 'Cause he'll fuck your day up."_ Iron Bull gritted through his teeth._ "Something those demons and that Vint asshole, Erimond, learned the hard way."_

After leaving slight bruising on the giant oxman, Rajmael finally relented.

_"Whoo! Thanks, boss. I needed that."_ Iron Bull thanked like it was nothing.

_"Any time, Bull."_

_"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go find a thicker pole."_

Rajmael suddenly felt the desperate need to take a bath.

**~XoXoXo~**

The elven Inquisitor found himself in back in the garden standing before the shrine dedicated to the Creators. He thanked Mythal and Andruil for granting him victory at Adamant. He praised Dirthamen for helping him regain the memories he had lost, and gaining new knowledge to fight against his enemy. Rajmael also said a prayer to Falon'din to watch and protect Stroud in the Beyond, the brave Warden deserved more than that, but it was the best Rajmael could do. He even whispered a prayer to Fen'harel and thanked the Dread Wolf for not bearing his teeth against him.

_"Greetings, Herald of Andraste."_ Mother Giselle addressed.

_"Good day, Mother Giselle."_ Rajmael returned as he finished his prayers.

_"Your victory at Adamant has quickly reached the ears of the people. I am grateful that you were able to save the Wardens from furthering Corypheus' plans. A vigil will be held tonight for those who did not survive, both the Inquisition soldiers and the Grey Wardens."_

_"Somehow, I don't think there's going to be a whole lot of sympathy for the Grey Wardens, considering what they almost did."_ Rajmael stated pragmatically.

_"From what I understand, the Grey Wardens were manipulated by Corypheus to do such terrible things against their will. That makes them victims as much as everyone else effected by this war."_ Mother Giselle spoke with kindness and understanding._ "All those who suffered from that creature's hands are deserving of peace and forgiveness."_

_"Well, let me know if there's anything you need to carry out the service."_

_"There is one more thing. I understand from Sister Leliana that you freed the Grey Warden mages with the aid of a spirit that took the form of Divine Justinia. I understand that the truth is much more complicated, but no less extraordinary. I suspect many of the faithful would be curious to know what she said to you."_

Rajmael finished placing a flower before each of the Creators and rose from the shrine._ "I learned the truth. Justinia, or the spirit posing as her, helped me to remember my past. Your Maker didn't put this mark on my hand, it was grafted to me by the orb Corypheus carries. And Andraste didn't lead me out of the Fade, the figure everyone saw was Divine Justinia."_

_"So, it is as you have always maintained."_ Mother Giselle sighed, her hopes, as outlandish as they may have been, dashed. _"You must feel quite vindicated."_

_"Oh, you're damned right I do."_ Rajmael confessed blatantly._ "Too many people look to the Maker to solve their problems. The world is never that easy."_

_"You do a disservice to their faith, Inquisitor."_ The Chantry Mother chided. _"There are far too who suffer in this cruel world of ours who look for a sign, a reason to hope, and make them believe that there is a reason behind their suffering. And that found that, in you."_

_"A disservice to their faith. Don't make me laugh."_ Rajmael dejected. _"What about the disservice done to my faith, my gods? You, and everyone like you, who declared me the Herald of Andraste, and look to me as the symbol of your Maker's favor, is an insult to my gods."_

_"Your people have your own faith, your own mysterious, I know. You've made your stance on this matter quite clear."_ Mother Giselle maintained._ "Perhaps your gods are myths, or perhaps they are extensions of what we know as the Maker..._

_"Don't you dare call the Creators 'myths' or your Maker to them in front of me, Giselle."_ Rajmael warned. _"That is a heinous insult, and as priest of Dirthamen, I will not tolerate such blasphemy. You and your mistaken faithful look to me for your Maker's favor, yet I have found more evidence of my gods, and have yet to see even a shred of action from yours. The Orb that Corypheus carries, this mark, and the magi I wield are all elven. At every challenge I faced, I invoked the Creators' names, and have come out victorious. Your god has no dominion over me, or my accomplishments."_

_"Forgive me, Inquisitor, I did not mean to cause offense."_ Mother Giselle expressed. _"I merely meant to say that we both believe in higher power greater than ourselves, and passionate devotion to your gods is admirable. Perhaps these names that all walks of life pray to as their higher power are all merely extensions of the same divine force. There are many around this whole world who look to this higher power that guides us, make our lives have meaning. And I will continue to pray to what that power is."_

_"If you truly believe that, Mother Giselle, than you're more out of place with the Chantry than I am."_ Rajmael pointed out as he left the priestess alone in the garden. He had his fill of theological rot for today. And after what he just went through at Adamant, he needed to relax a little.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael sat alone on a high cliff overlooking Skyhold. This was where he liked to slip away and relax with his pipe, and try to forget that he is the Inquisitor. This was also the place where he buried Nethras after their duel in Nehn'numinas. Perhaps here, even in death, Nethras' spirit would still watch over him.

Rajmael lit his sylvanwood pipe and smoked his favorite lotus plant, the discoveries he made, and the things hie faced back in the Fade were still plagueing his mind. Never before had he encountered a spirit so powerful that it was able to effect him in such a manner. Perhaps he could shake it from his mind here.

At first Rajmael was merely content to watch the sunrise, but after a little while he saw a barbaric looking human wearing furs and ram horns walking up to one of the Keep's outside walls. The rather large shemlen stood there for a moment looking at the wall likie it was talking to him, then he walked off. And then he came back, carrying a goat. And then, for Creators know why, the human actually picked the goat up over his head and threw it at the wall!

That had to be the most random thing Rajmael had ever seen, and it was funny as all hell. "Ha! Bet you can't do better than that!"

The human probably didn't hear him, but he needed no encouragement. He went and grabbed another goat then *SPLAT!* he threw it against the wall, leaving a splattered bloodstain on the bricks.

Rajmael gave the shemlen seven points for height, five points for distance, but eight points for force. This might actually be just what he needed to take his mind off things. This barbarian made this things fly and smash against the building like Angry Birds.

After a while of watching this random gargantuan sized human paint the side wall with goat's, blood Rajmael heard the familiar footfall from the proud, authoritative yet humble stride that could only belong to Cassandra and her shapely legs. This might put a damper on his entertainment.

_"I thought I would find you here."_ Cassandra said with a hint of disapproval in her voice.

_"Wait just a moment Cassandra, this might be a new high score."_ The two of them watched the random assailant on the Keep's cosmetic integrity grab another goat by the horn. This one flew the farthest, hit the hardest and left the biggest stain of all when it smashed against the wall. _"Aha-a! I give that throw a perfect ten!"_

_"Really, Rajmael? This is what you're doing in spare time?"_ Cassandra asked incredulously.

Rajmael chukled smoke from between his lips._ "Did you come all the way out here just to scold me, Cassandra?"_

_"No. It's just…would you like some company?"_ Cassandra voice was sincere.

_"Nothing would make me happier right now."_

Cassandra sat herself next to her lover and held his hand, while that random guy wearing the goat horns kept hitting Skyhold with goats.

_"I…I still don't comprehend what we saw in the Fade. The Divine, or what we appeared to be the Divine. I've been wrapping my mind around ever since we returned, and I still can't wrap my mind around it."_ Cassandra confessed. Ever since they returned from the Fade she had been trying to balance both her faith and her reason to determine what they encountered. _"Could that have truly been the Divine we saw in the Fade?"_

_"What do you think it was?"_

_"The Chantry teaches that the souls of the departed pass through the Fade, so it could have been the Divine. Yet, even so..."_

Rajmael could sense the doubt in Cassandra reasoning._ "Do you truly believe that what we encountered might have been the ghost of Divine Justinia?"_

_"A ghost, a remnant of her hopes and memories, her lingering will to do good...all those are possible. No one knows for certain what happens after we die."_ Cassandra admitted._ "It could have been a spirit that assumed her form...but why? It helped you, just as Justinia herself would have."_

_"If that was a reflection of who Justinia truly was as person, then perhaps it doesn't matter what that itself spirit was."_ Rajmael suggested with his pipe clenched in his teeth.

_"It matters to me."_ Cassandra insisted._ "How am I to understand this? I am no priest or philosopher, I am a warrior. And matters such as these, where my faith cannot give me answers is frustrating to me."_

_"Isn't that the point of having faith?"_ Rajmael reminded._ "Try thinking of it like this, Cassandra: in the end, our lives are just leaves in the wind, the only thing that matters is the actions we took in our lives and the effect it has even after we're gone. And in the end, Justinia's life had meaning, even after her death."_

_"That...does give me comfort. More than you'd think."_ Cassandra admitted.

_"As a priest, I can say with full confidence that no priest, no matter their faith or rank, knows for certain what happens when we die. So I understand your doubts more than most would believe. And truth be told, I'm still trying to come to terms with what I saw in the Fade as well."_

Cassandra noticed the disturbed, forlorn look on Rajmael's face. She recalled how the Nightmare conjured Rajmael's deepest fears. To be a champion of the faith and the Chantry was the dream of so many, even she dreamed of such an accomplishment when she was young. But Rajmael was proud to be an elf, loved his culture, and was piously devoted to his elven gods. To be declared Champion of the Chantry and loyal servant of the Maker would have been the ultimate betrayal to his people.

Then Cassandra remembered the images the Nightmare conjured to weaken Rajmael's resolve. Nethras, the brother Rajmael was forced to kill. Nethras wanted to kill millions of people to take back everything the elves had lost, to give his daughter a better life and avenge the sins that were committed against his people. Rajmael killed his own brother to protect the very people who brought them both so much pain. And then that retched demon conjured up the image of Evanura, the mother of his godchild, the first woman he loved.

Cassandra remembered the look in Rajmael's eyes when he saw Evanura, even though it was only an illusion of her. The Seeker felt a slight pang of jealousy run through her heart at that memory. Rajmael spoke of Evanura with such adoration and affection, but Cassandra never comprehended how beautiful she was. She didn't know women could even be that beautiful. Evanura looked so graceful and resplendent, it made Cassandra self-conscious of her own appearance and doubtful of her own femininity. How could she compare to someone like her?

_"That woman we saw in the Fade. Was that truly Evanura?"_ Cassandra asked curiously.

Rajmael took a long, sad drag of his sylvanwood pipe. _"Yes, and no, not at all. The Nightmare conjured an image of someone I held dearly and tried to use it against me, to tempt me long enough to kill us all. But in my heart I knew that it was not Evanura."_

_"You were not fooled for an instant, but I know you were shocked. How...did you know that it wasn't her?"_

Rajmael chuckled and smoke billowed from his mouth._ "It was painfully obvious! Evanura was far more than just her beauty. For starters, she was left handed. And she wouldn't have bothered trying to convince me of anything, she would have just slapped me silly, then drag me out of the Fade by my ear while she bitched into it."_

Cassandra could hardly believe her ears, but it brought a smile to her face. _"You...you're serious? That's what she would have done?"_

_"Oh, yes. Evanura was not the 'Damsel in Distress' kind of woman."_ Rajmael laughed, and then there was deep sadness in his eyes. _"But...the most obvious sign that that wasn't Evanura was...how she tried to tempt me into staying in the Fade by being with her."_

That came as a huge surprise to Cassandra. "_Oh? What...what do you mean? Isn't that what you would have wanted?"_

_"Yes. Once upon a time."_ Rajmael voice was laced with sorrow._ "But the sad fact was...as much as I loved her, she did not love me the same way. Her heart was for Nethras, and Nethras only."_

Now Cassandra was truly shocked. How could any woman, especially another elf not accept Rajmael's love? _"But...but why? Did she not know how you felt? Why would she choose Nethras over you?"_

_"Oh, she knew. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not very subtle about how I feel. She chose Nethras over me because...he was the better man. Everything I am is because of those two."_

_"What...what was Evanura like?"_ Cassandra finally asked.

_"Hmm. She was strong, independent, and she refused to let anyone define her. Despite being one of our best warriors, she followed the Path of The Healer, the Vir Atishan. And she loved to ride her halla through the forest glens, it made her feel truly happy to be Dalish."_ Rajmael looked to Cassandra with affection in his golden eyes and gently held her hand._ "Nothing that the Nightmare said was true, Cassandra. I love you the same way I loved Evanura. You are more than just a Seeker or a Pentaghast to me."_

Rajmael's words set Cassandra's heart and doubts at ease. How foolish could she be to ever let a demon's words make her doubt what she felt about Rajmael? If there was ever any proof that the Maker was looking out for her, he was it.

The two would have gladly stayed there holding hands, and basking in the beautiful sunrise over the Frostback mountains...if it wasn't for the damned goats. They heard another goat get smashed against the Keep's wall, and Cassandra remembered why she was looking for him in the first place. Their personal time would have to come later after duties were tended to.

_"Perhaps we should continue this later, Rajmael. When there are no...distractions."_ Cassandra said blushingly._ "You have other, ahem, obligations today."_

_"Aww! Come on, Cassandra!"_ The Inquisitor whined. _"Can't we just stay here and watch this muscle-bound loon keep chucking goats at the walls? It's the funniest thing I've seen since Vivienne got sucker-punched by that spirit pretending to be Aedan Cousland."_

_"Rajmael..."_ Cassandra practically scolded.

_"Oh, fine."_ Rajmael whined. The two of them made their way back down to Skyhold. And fifteen minutes later, some Inquisition soldiers came and arrested the goat-slinging lunatic for assaulting the integrity of Skyhold with livestock.

**In The Skyhold Throne Room...**

This was possibly the worst, scariest place to be in Thedas right now. To be standing before the Throne of The Inquisitor, awaiting his personal judgment. Whatever crime one committed to warrant being here was so grave that all the sovereign powers of Southern Thedas would defer to Rajmael's ruling. Any and all who stood here would pray for his mercy and fear his wrath. It was not a duty Rajmael took lightly, for this was a position that was as close to godlike as any mortal could truly get. His decisions, his will would determine the outcome of a persons life, their destiny and reflect on the Inquisition. Anything the accused was, and all they would ever be, rested in his scarred hands.

Lovely Josephine stood before the throne with her ever present clipboard in hand as though it were a part of her very being. And Inquisitor Lavellan slouched in his grand throne, resting his head on his hand with contempt with where his ass was sitting.

_"Forgive me, Inquisitor, I know how much you dislike all this courtly ceremony, but there are many from your dealings and encounters on your missions that waiting your pending judgement."_ The Ambassador reminded. She saw the look of discomfort in Rajmael's eyes and recognized it. It was one she had seen in the eyes of many monarchs and people of authority who took their power to pass judgment on to others seriously. _"I urge you to remember that justice has many tools, and you can still refer to us for advice on these matters."_

Rajmael sighed dismally and mentally prepared himself. _"Alright, let's get this party started. Bring in this first case."_

_"As you wish."_ Josephine scrawled down her clipboard as the guards brought in the first prisoner of the day. _"First we have Chief Movran the Under. Chieftian of the Avvar clan who repeatedly, and without provocation, tried to kill you in the Fallow Mire. I believe you are the one who found him assaulting the Keep. With a...goat."_

Rajmael took a moment to look at this gruff-looking, rather large Avvar wearing ram horns and leather armor stitched with iron. He smelled like the goats he was throwing._ "You ASSHOLE! What've you got against the goats?"_

The Avvar warrior chuckled in deep, guttural voice like it was an echo in a cave._ "A courtroom? Unnecessary! I merely answered the deaths of my clan and kin, as is Avvar custom, by smacking your Hold with goat's blood."_

_"You answered the deaths of your clan who I killed by giving my fortress a...paint job?"_ Rajmael looked over to Josephine in confusion.

_"Don't look at me. You've dealt with the Avvar more than I have."_ Josephine waved off.

_"There's no foul between us, Herald."_ Movran promised heartily. _"My idiot son meant to go off and murder Tevinters, but he got feisty with your Inquisition to test the mettle of your gods against ours, as though he were capable of such an honor. A redheaded mother guarantees a brat."_ The chieftain's laugh echoed through the whole Keep; he had absolutely no fear for his fate._ "My clan yields, and my remaining sons still have brains in their skulls. Do what you will Herald, you've earned it."_

Well this was most unexpected. Chief Movran could have called a blood feud if he wanted, for the death of his son and kinsman, but instead chose to do what appeared to be a minor insult instead. And then he willingly yielded to the Inquisition's authority. From what Rajmael understood, the Avvar respect strength and will, and believe all outcomes of honor are determined by the gods. Perhaps Rajmael could make use of such staunch people. _"Chief Movran, your son tested the will of your gods against mine, and was found wanting. There are none can contest that. But the true strength of your gods has yet to be proven. You, and your entire clan, will test the might of your gods against the god of the Venatori. And then the whole world will know which gods deserve reckoning."_

_"Ha! My idiot son got us something from this after all! May Hakkon Wintersbreath grant you victory, and enemies death, Inquisitor!"_ Chief Movran the Under laughed like thunder as the guards undid his shackles and led him out of the keep.

**~XoXoXo~**

A short time later, the guards brought a very familiar, and very harried Magister before Rajmael. The Tevinter mage's hands were bound so that he couldn't cast any spells, and there were Templars present as extra precaution. Grand-Enchanter Fiona and her fellow mages stood present, looking at the prisoner with anger and utter contempt in their eyes. For them this judgment couldn't come sooner. Dorian also stood present, but the look his eyes was one of immense pity and regret.

_"Before you stands Magister Gerion Alexius of House Alexius from the Minrathous Circle of Magi."_ Josephine reintroduced. _"Ferelden has given him to us for sentencing as acknowledgment of your aid. The formal charges are apostasy, attempted enslavement, the use of forbidden magiks for conquest, his involvement with the Venatori, and by extension, the destruction of the Conclave, usurpation of Redcliffe from Arl Tegan, and of course, assassination. On you, no less."_ Josephine took a moment to catch her breath after listing all those charges at once. _"In light of these charges, Tevinter has officially disowned Alexius and stripped him of his rank. His fate lies solely in your hands, Inquisitor."_

Rajmael observed the former Magister chained before him. He no longer stood with that sense entitlement and authority, but slumped over like a tired old man. The pride that once glinted in his eyes had now glossed over with deep sorrow and was surrounded by dark, tearful circles. This was not the same man who stole Redcliffe Castle, but more akin to the Rajmael and Aedan killed in that dark future.

_"Dorian. For obvious reasons, I must ask you to say and do nothing in this hearing, given your personal history and past relationship with Alexius."_ Rajmael informed.

_"Oh, don't worry, Inquisitor. Given what he's done, I doubt there's anything I can or do that can save him at this point."_ Dorian stated with regret but understanding.

Rajmael turned his attention back to the former Magister. _"Your crimes are numerous and damning, Alexius. If you have anything to say on your behalf, I suggest you say it now, because no one is coming to save you now."_

_"I couldn't save my son! You think my own fate matters to me!?"_ Alexius almost wailed.

_"Will you offer nothing more in your defense?"_ Josephine asked sympathetically.

_"You've won nothing!"_ Alexius cursed. _"The people you saved, the acclaim you've gathered...you'll lose it all in the storm to come."_

_"Oh, I don't know, I seem to be weathering the storm pretty well so far."_ Rajmael mocked. Everything Alexius did, he did it to save his son. As Eva's adopted father, Rajmael knew the pain and fear of losing his child as much as Alexius did, and no parent should ever outlive their children. But in that future, Alexius didn't save his son, but condemned him to a fate worse than death, and brought ruin to the world. There can be no justification for that._ "Your son accepted his fate, but you couldn't. And in your selfishness you would have condemned tens of thousands to unspeakable horrors and destruction. You promised to aid the mages, and I will see you uphold that promise. Any and all coin, property and treasure you own will go towards the mages' future. Josephine will draw up the papers and you will sign them. You will surrender any information you know of the Elder One and his Venatori. And you will serve the rest of your time by aiding Arcanist Dagna to understand the forbidden magic that the Venatori use, and the magic you used in Redcliffe." The Inquisitor glared at Alexius, his golden eyes burning dangerously. "In other words, Alexius: I basically own you now."_

_"A headsman would have been kinder."_ Alexius stated sourly.

_"I know, right? Now get, please, get out of my sight."_

**~XoXoXo~**

The next man to be brought before the Inquisitor for judgment was an old man, at least in his fifties. His hair was greying severely, and fear gripped his Fereldan features. This scared man hardly looked like the sort of criminal that should be judged by the Inquisitor, but his crimes were so severe that many would so the most heinous punishments inflicted on him.

_"Mayor Gregory Dedrick is present for betraying his own constituents, a crime he confessed to on paper."_ Josephine stated._ "He confesses that ten years ago, he flooded Old Crestwood to kill refugees and villagers that were tainted with the Blight. His only defense is that he did it to save the rest of he villagers from contracting the Blight, but we only have his word."_

Rajmael leaned forward in his throne to better hear the man. _"For ten years you've kept your crime a secret, and you only confessed to it when it became clear that we were getting close to the truth. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"_

_"There is no cure for the Blight, but I couldn't convince a villager to leave a sick spouse or child behind."_ The former mayor defended pitiably. _"If I didn't do...what I did, everyone would have died."_

_"So you herded the sick and dying into one place, and then flooded Old Crestwood? Were no innocents harmed?"_ Josephine questioned.

_"Nearly everyone in the village had the Blight, I swear it! Please have mercy, my lord. I couldn't tell the villagers I drowned their own families to save them. I...I just couldn't!"_

This was a tragic matter indeed. Rajmael never experienced the Blight, but everyone knows how horrible it can be, and this poor man was right in the middle of it with no one to save his people. It doesn't change the fact that he condemned his own people, people he trusted to a horrible fate by drowning in those dark, cold caves, clawing at the walls screaming for aid.

_"Is there anyone present here who would speak on Mayor Dedrick's behalf or against it?"_ Rajmael asked.

_"This man murdered over a hundred people, his own people, and then he lied about it for ten years. His crimes cannot be ignored."_ Blackwall affirmed with a grudge in his voice.

_"Yeah!"_ Sera agreed._ "I'll bet none of his family was in those drippy caverns!"_

_"After what I saw happen to Felix, I don't think anyone should have to suffer a fate like that. He did what he could with the only options available to him."_ Dorian defended.

_"I fought in the Blight, and I've seen the horrid things it does to those who are tainted. It is beyond nightmarish."_ Leliana reminded with terrible memories behind her eyes. _"As cold and cruel as it may seem, drowning was probably a mercy compared to the alternative."_

_"A most practical attitude, Leliana dear."_ Vivienne exclaimed in her haughty tone. _"It was an extreme situation, and it he killed the few to save the many, then it was the most pragmatic thing to do. I doubt we would have discovered his crime if he hadn't confessed."_

_"The times were desperate, and many terrible things are done in the name of survival with the greater good in mind."_ Cullen spoke out. "_But if he truly believed that what he did was the right thing, he would have stuck by it and confessed his crime, instead of hiding it like a guilty criminal."_

Rajmael sat for a moment and contemplated what his companions said, and what Mayor Dedrick pleaded. He had seen darkspawn and ghouls when they were fighting on the Storm Coast, and he knew for a fact that he would rather die than be turned into one of those things thick with rot and taint, serving the darkspawn's vile will. But what if Eva contracted the Blight? Would he not do anything to save her? There was only one solution where darkspawn and absolution walked hand in hand.

_"Gregory Dedrick, what you did, you did it to save the lives of the rest of the people in Crestwood, and it also stopped the Blight from spreading in that region of Ferelden. However, your crimes cannot be ignored. You murdered those people, and then you lied to the survivors about the truth."_ Rajmael stated as fact. _"The Blight drove you to be a criminal out of necessity. Now it will be your redemption. I sentence you to join the Grey Wardens, where you will fight the darkspawn until your dying days."_

_"I...I am not worthy of such an honor, Your Worship."_ The Mayor wept. _"But...I shall strive to be. Until the Maker, and the Blight, take me."_

This seemed to be an acceptable decision by all those present, Blackwall approved especially. Solas, on the other hand, was the only one who seemed disappointed with the decision. Rajmael waved his hand and the guards took the former Mayor now Warden Recruit to the Grey Wardens, where he would undergo the Joining. Perhaps he would find his redemption in the Order of The Grey, like so many before him had.

**~XoXoXo~**

An elder woman now stood before the Throne of The Inquisition. Despite her noble bearing, she wore faded, outdated Orlesian styled furs. Not out of fashion's sake, like most nobles, but because it was the only thing she had left. The old woman stood firm but afraid, praying for the Inquisitor's mercy, but ready for his judgment.

_"For the next case, Inquisitor, I submit Mistress Poulin of Sahrnia, who you yourself arrested on charges of aiding and abetting the Red Templars in the Dales, and, by extension, partaking in slavery."_ Josephine listed. _"She sold a quarry to them for a handsome sum, and used it to grow red lyrium by enslaving the townspeople. Many of the townspeople who were captured were used to grow lyrium from their own bodies. Her only extenuating circumstance: she used the supplies given to her by the Red Templars to aid the remaining townspeople."_

Oh, how Rajmael remembered this case. The memory of euthanizing Lina, a small elven girl no older than Eva, because she had been infected with red lyrium and was in such horrible agony, still plagued Rajmael's mind. As it stood, Rajmael find it a little difficult to remain impartial in this case. _"If there is anything you think you can say that will help you, I suggest you say it now."_

_"Please, my crime was misjudgment! The land sale was meant to bring prosperity in harsh times!"_ Mistress Poulin pleaded.

_"Surely, it must have been clear that you were selling to the enemy."_ Josephine insinuated.

_"We were starving! With the river frozen and the war raging, our option were limited."_ The accused protested. _"Selling the quarry was a mistake, one I tried to rectify."_

_"You tried to rectify aiding the Templars by continuing to sell your own people to them?"_ Rajmael questioned. _"That's not very redeeming from where I sit."_

_"No one was coming to our aid when we needed them, even we were forced to start eating boot leather!"_ Poulin defended staunchly. _"Celene and Gaspard were too busy fighting each other to even know we existed. Yes, I continued to accept supplies from the Red Templars in exchange for taking more villagers, but everything I did was so that I could save those I could! If we fought back or resisted, the Templars would have slaughtered most of the village and taken the rest, and no one would be left. Now tell, me what do you judge me for?"_

The Inquisitor sat back in throne, his hands folded contemplatively. _"Is there any here would speak on Mistress Poulin's behalf, or against her?"_

_"Her error in judgment caused many of those who looked to her for protection, and died in terrible agony."_ Solas reminded spitefully. _"If they suffered for her mistake, then why shouldn't she?"_

_"Being turned into fertilizer to grow red lyrium by a Desire Demon? That's got to be amongst my Top Ten and my list of Worst Ways To Die In Horrible Agony."_ Varric stated. _"Trust me, I know."_

_"These were extreme circumstances, Inquisitor. Mistress Poulin was the only one acting to protect those people. With the river frozen, no way of escape and no way to feed everyone, she did the best she could to save who she could."_ Cassandra reminded.

_"Scared, hungry, desperate. How will we feed the children? How many are sick? How can I save them. She tried to save as many as she could and weeps for those she couldn't."_ Cole whispered.

_"I don't know, maybe cut her a little slack boss?"_ Iron Bull suggested. _"You can't always save everyone, sometimes you have to save who you can."_

These were fair arguments. Mistress Poulin was pushed into an unfair, desperate position. And he had to remind himself that ultimately it was the Red Templars' fault for putting her in that situation. But justice must be met, the spirits of those she sent to die deserved something._ "Your crime was desperation and ignorance of those you dealt with. That also makes you a victim, but neither I, nor the people you sent to die can just let you walk away..."_

The noblewoman was shaking where she stood, ready to say her prayers and for mercy.

_"Mistress Poulin, you will spend the rest of your ill-gotten money, and your life, to rebuild Sarhnia. You will ensure that the people are taken care of and return prosperity to the town. If the townspeople forgive you, that's their business. But if you fail to meet these requirments, you will be brought before me once again, and no one will defend you."_

A sense of relief and jubilation came over the Mistress Poulin._ "I swear! I swear, I won't squander this chance you've given me, Inquisitor. I will make up for what I've done, I promise!"_

The guards undid her chains and escorted the pardoned Poulin out of the Keep, and to her salvation.

**~XoXoXo~**

The entire hall was filled with hated whispers and deathly glares, this next prisoner had earned the universal hatred and animosity of all those present. Even the most charitable soul here would probably relish in this man's prolonged, painful suffering. This man had earned nothing less.

Magister Erimond was dragged before the court on a leash, considering how he had been...disarmed. The Venatori mage clumsily stepped forward with every jerk of the leash around his neck. Tourniquets were tied tightly around the stumps where his arms used to be, and his empty sleeves dangled pitiful from his uniform. The whole court of the Inquisition looked down on the mangled mage with contempt and disgust, and he returned the mutual feelings with a sneer. Perhaps what truly angered everyone was, not only had he disgraced one of the most revered orders in all of Thedas, and was now missing both of his arms as a consequence, he still had that haughty demeanor as if his shit didn't stink. The guards that pulled him in took notice of his attitude and gave his leash a good, sharp pull that made the Venatori kiss the carpet, to the delight of the court, and the anger of Erimond who was now struggling to stand back up again.

_"One of the many unfortunate effect of Adamant, My Lord."_ Josephine started with an unusual tone of distaste in her mouth. _"I submit Magister Livius Erimond of the Vyrantium Circle who remains loyal to Corypheus. He is brought before to face justice for the suffering he caused you when you were sent into the Fade."_

Rajmael put a sly smile across his lips. _"Well, I hope none of this has effected your ability to play the violin."_

_"Silence!"_ Erimond shrieked like a chastised child. _"I am a Magister of the True Imperium, and a servant to a real god! I will NOT be made a fool of!"_

_"You know what? You're right. I'm so sorry, that was immature of me. What do you say we shake on it and forget this whole thing happened."_ Rajmael mockingly extended his hand out._ "Oh, I'm sorry I forgot about your little handicap." Laughter passed through the halls and it seemed to have angered the armless mage. While Rajmael took great pleasure seeing the fanatical son of a bitch in a humiliating state, it still pissed him off that that the Magister still had that arrogant look in his eye._

_"Mock me if you will, but I recognize none of these proceedings."_ Erimond sneered in defiance. _"You have no authority over me."_

Josephine snorted at that comment. _"On the contrary, both Tevinter and the Order of the Grey have deferred to the Inquisitor's judgment on this matter, lest you face any of their more...colorful sentences."_

_"You've accomplished nothing, Usurper!"_ Erimond called out. _"I serve a living god! And he will reward my loyalty in the next world. Pass your sentence and return me to him."_

Rajmael had to admit, it was kind of funny seeing this gimp try to be a tough guy without half of his limbs, but his loyalty to his master was getting annoying, and he wanted to make this maggot suffer for what he pushed the Wardens into. "It's funny how you think I should be scared of a god that has been defined only by his repeated failures. Haven, Halamshiral and now Adamant. He couldn't even kill me with that pet dragon of his, or an army of demons."

Erimond glared angrily, but was at a loss for words.

_"You're a vile waste of life, and it shames me that you still live while worthier people do not. You deserve only the cruelest of ends, and so I will be cruel."_ Rajmael damned._ "I sentence you to the Crow's Cage over the cliff beneath Skyhold, where the birds and maggots will eat you alive. Good luck keeping them out of your eyes and mouth without your arms."_

_"This isn't the end, your knife-eared bastard!"_ Erimond spat as the guards dragged him away._ "The Elder One will come for you, and his vengeance will be terrible!"_

_"He'll have to stop hiding to do that."_ Rajmael stated. _"But you won't live long enough to see it."_

**~XoXoXo~**

The visiting nobles were painted with shocked expressions and scandalized gossip amongst themselves blew through them. Everyone else, on the other hand, was filled with outrage and anger. This next prisoner had elicited a storm of controversy and anger that shook all the nobility in Orlais, and was now at the center of everyone's attention. But this was not the manner in which she intended to achieve such an accomplishment.

The guards dragged the disgraced noble before the throne, but a squad of archers held ready in the rafters in case she tried anything. None were willing to risk any chances with this bitch.

_"I don't think introductions are necessary for this accused. Her crime, capture and disgrace has become quite famous."_ Josephine began. _"Grand Duchess Florianne de Chalons, though her title rings hollow, considering it, and everything else she possesses, are at risk of forfeiture. You spared her life, despite the treacherous crimes she wished to commit, and the harm she wished to inflict on you. As a sign of friendship, and recognition of your authority, Empress Celene has decreed that her fate be left to you, Inquisitor Lavellan."_

Rajmael smiled at Florianne with smug triumph. _"Welcome to my party, Florianne. Don't look so glum. Smile, wave to all the people who've gathered to see you. You're at the center of attention, just like you wanted."_

_"Peh."_ Florianne scoffed arrogantly.

_"Despite her posture, she has acknowledged your authority."_ Josephine informed.

_"Shall I curse you on behalf of the Elder One, like that fool Erimond? I realize that Corypheus had no intention of honoring the concordats that I manipulated."_ Florianne resigned with all the haughty arrogance of an Orlesian noblewoman._ "Do as you must. I praise your mastery of the Game, even as I despise your victory. Celene does not know her fortune."_

That mocking look in Rajmael's eyes was replaced with utter contempt, and he felt that thing scratching at the back of his mind._ "Even disgraced as you are, a traitor and would-be kinslayer, you still have the audacity to speak as if you were getting a slap on the wrist?"_

_"Shall I curtsy then, and beg for your mercy, Inquisitor?"_

_"No. You will kneel before me, like the simpering bitch you are, and pray to whatever god will bother with someone as pathetic as you."_ The Inquisitor stood with his eyes burning dangerously. As he approached the disgraced duchess the room grew dark, and his aura became more menacing, like a demonic specter. Florianne finally buckled under her fear, and shakily went to her knees._ "You dare to act so arrogantly in front of me when you were willing to let Corypheus destroy this world, and murder your own kin, all so you could benefit from the destruction and suffering of others? Well, now you will suffer. As the Lord Inquisitor, I confiscate any and all property and wealth you possess to be redistributed to the impoverished people of Halamshiral. And you, Floriann de Chalons, I sentence you to labor your life away in grueling obscurity in a far away quarry. You will work until your back breaks, your hands bleed and you're boiling in your own sweat. And then you'll work some more. Poor, unaccomplished, and forgotten."_

_"Wait. Please, Inquisitor, reconsider!"_ The former duchess begged as the guards dragged her away to her new life of hardship. _"Please, I can put my skills and contacts to work in your service! I can give you what I know about the Venatori! Please!"_

But her pleads fell on deaf ears as Rajmael sat back in his throne and watched with cold indifference as they took her away. _"You fool. You should have been happy with what you already had."_

**Later that evening...**

With The Inquisitor's judgment's rendered, the sentences carried out, and justice met, the Skyhold Court Room soon emptied and everyone resumed the duties and business here. Almost everyone was gathering outside Skyhold to oversee the vigil Mother Giselle was carrying out to honor those who were lost at Adamant, Inquisition and Grey Wardens alike. As the Inquisitor, Rajmael was obligated to join them when it started.

To his welcomed surprise, he found Hawke, Varric, Merrill and Isabella all gathered around the fireplace in the Main Keep.

_"Andaran atishan, Inquisitor."_ Merrill greeted respectfully. _"It's good to see an elf being so important. So many of the People are so proud."_

_"Aneth'ara, Lethallan."_ Rajmael returned. _"From what Varric's told, you have done well protecting our people after what happened in Kirkwall. You also do the elves proud."_ Merrill blushed from the Inquisitor's praise.

_"Hey, Inquisitor. Why don't you come join us for a moment."_ Varric invited.

_"We were raising a glass in honor of Stroud."_ Hawke informed. _"Would you care to join us?"_

_"I'd be honored to raise a glass with you all."_ That was putting it mildly. Drinking with the Champion of Kirkwall? That's one dream come true scratched off his list now.

_"Here's to Stroud, and the rest of our little band of misfits, freaks, and ne'er-do-wells who could not be here, and everyone else we lost. Bethany, Aveline, and Fenris."_ Hawke toasted.

_"Chins up, booze down."_ Isabella called, and they downed their drinks at once. Merrill hiccupped but held her liquor surprisingly well.

_"Ooh, Kitten, you handled that so well."_ Isabella praised. "Have you been practicing?"

_"I...started trying it more when you showed me what...body shots are."_ Merrill answered blushingly.

_"So, Hawke, you'll be heading to the Anderfells after tonight?"_ Rajmael asked.

_"To Weisshaupt Fortress in Hossberg, yes."_ The Champion answered. _"I need to let the Grey Wardens them know what transpired here in the South, and make sure that they are not caught unawares. Maybe I'll even learn more about our enemy there."_

_"Hmm. And this your way of saying farewell, Varric?"_

_"Andraste's knickers, no."_ Varric denied._ "That would imply that I won't see any of 'em again. This is more of a...'See Ya Later' kind of gathering."_

_"Heh. Varric has never been very good with goodbyes."_ Hawk spoke._ "I've told him my plans and he's just going to wait for me to return with a mug of beer ready, and more than likely add more than a few embellishes to both of our exploits."_

Yeah, that did seem like what Varric would do. _"What about your lady friends?"_

_"Oh, don't you worry your pretty head about me, Your Holiness."_ Isabella winked. _"I'll be here offering Sister Nightingale my...talented services."_

Merrill held Hawkes hand tightly and leaned into him._ "I'll be staying with Ma Vhenan. We've been apart for too long, and I don't want to lose him again."_

Rajmael had to admit, Hawke, The Champion of Kirkwall, wasn't exactly what he had imagined. Yes, he was a great warrior from what he had seen, and the ladies all seemed to flock to him like buzzards to a carcass, but Hawke just seemed so…normal at the same time. Always acting with humility and genuine concern for those around him, with the courage to say what's right, regardless of the consequences and with a good swordarm to back it up. Thedas could use more people like him.

_"It's been an honor, Champion."_ Rajmael said extending his hand to the human warrior.

_"The honor has been all mine."_ Garrett replied taking the mage's hand in his own, shaking it._ "When you kill Corypheus, let him know the Hawke family wishes him the best."_

_"Will do."_ Rajmael pointed to the door invitingly._ "The service is about to begin. Let us honor our dead before we set back to our adventures."_

_"Oh, there's one more thing I wanted to give you."_ Hawke reached into his pocket and handed Rajmael an ancient, but masterfully crafted amulet. _"When I first defeated Corypheus, I pulled this off his body. Amulets like these were reserved only for High Priests of the Old Gods. In this case, it was to honor Dumat, the Old God of Silence. It was belonged to Corypheus. Perhaps you'll learn more from it than I did."_

Rajmael studied the foreign, strange looking amulet. It felt like this thing was made out of dragonbone with lyrium circling inside it. The sides were had a geometrical groove inside, like the tumblers of a door lock on one side, and the teeth of a key on the other. On the face of the amulet was some kind of intricate design of a dragon standing amongst stars with its wings spread open. Rajmael felt filthy for even touching something that belonged to Corypheus, but perhaps it would come in useful later.

**~XoXoXo~**

The sun was beginning to dim, making the sky a vibrant array of colors. Blood red, golden yellow, and bright orange pressing against a black-blue canvas. Mother Giselle and several priests stood around a massive funeral pyre that blazed with gentle intensity. This bright, roaring flame that could be seen clear across the Frostbacks was meant to honor the memory of all those who had died. Many of the soldiers, castle staff, agents and nobles had gathered around to pay their respects.

All the Grey Wardens gathered around the fire, kneeling in both respect and regret. For it was by their hands that this funeral was made possible, the many soldiers they killed, and all of their own brethren that they killed with their own hands. Many within the crowd shot hateful glares at the Wardens for all the death they caused, and would have caused, and the Wardens deserved it. All many of them could hope for now, was a way to make up for this disgrace. The Inquisition was their best chance.

Mother Giselle stood before the pyre and in front of the crowd. _"Let us bow our heads, and remember those brave many that gave their lives at Adamant, who died so that we might not. Let us also reach out to those who have unknowingly wronged us, who now stand with us as brothers and sister, and forgive them as the Maker forgives all. Let us pray for the strength to carry on, and continue on our righteous cause, so that the deaths of all those before us will not be in vain. So let it be."_

_"So let it be."_ The crowd repeated and finished the prayer.

The Iron Bull and his Chargers rose their flasks and drank in respect, while Blackwall stood with his fellow Wardens and gave a flawless salute. Cole hid in the shadows, silently watching the vigil, and feeling every ounce of sadness, regret and respect that every soul here was feeling, and wished he could help all of them. Sera fidgeted uncontrollably where she stood, wishing she was somewhere else. The Red Jenny didn't like being around everyone being all sad and depressed as they were. Vivienne watched from her balcony, looking at all the people beneath her with a glass of wine in hand, while Dorian stood in the back reciting a prayer under his breath. Solas found himself away from everyone and watched in humble silence.

Hawke stood next to Merrill as she held him close to her. Isabella snuck in and silently pressed herself closely to the Champion. Both women's hearts were filled with so much joy to still have the man they loved with them. Hawke held his Pirate Queen and his Dalish Love close, whispering how much he loved them, and made a promise to never leave them. Varric stood nearby his friends, and tried to hide the fact there were tears in his eyes. They lost Stroud, but at least they didn't lose Hawke. And that was the closest damned thing to a miracle he had ever seen.

Rajmael made his way over to Cassandra, and gently grabbed her hand. Cassandra warmly welcomed him. They fought in and escaped the Fade together. So many died while they did not, and it seemed wrong to be so happy in each other's presence when so many others were still suffering. But even amongst all this tragedy, everything they had lost and suffered, these two still found love with one another.

Everyone stood in respected silence in honor of the dead. Then Leliana finally remembered the words that once brought comfort to so many who were suffering loss, even after a great victory. A simple song she could never forget, and one that would best honor their fallen. Her voice carried over more beautifully and more clearly than in any chantry, and rang through out the mountains.

_Of all the money that e're I had_

_I spent it in good company_

_And all the harm the e're I've done_

_Alas it was to none but me_

_And all I've done for want of wit_

_To memory now I can't recall_

_So fill to me The Parting Glass_

_Goodnight and joy be with you all_

_Of all the comrades the e're I had_

_They're sorry for my going away_

_And all the sweethearts that e're I loved_

_They would wish me one more day to stay_

_But since it falls on to my lot_

_That I should rise and you should not_

_I'll gently rise and I'll softly call "Goodnight and Joy be with you all"_

_A man may drink and not be drunk_

_A man may fight and not be slain_

_A man may court a pretty girl and perhaps be welcomed back again_

_But since it has, so ought to be_

_By a time to rise and a time to fall_

_Come fill to me The Parting Glass_

_Goodnight and Joy be with you all_

_Come fill to me The Parting Glass_

_Goodnight and Joy be with you all_

**A Short Time Later...**

The funeral had ended, and everyone had retired for the evening. Rajmael returned to his quarters hoping to find Cassandra there, but alas, she had not turned in for the evening. Rajmael looked over to his desk and found a small sealed box next to the carved totems of his gods. The letter must have been delivered to him by one of Leliana's agents while he was attending the vigil. There was a crest on top of the box, white wreath in the shape of wings with an axe between theem on a blue field. It was the personal sigil of Aedan Cousland. Rajmael quickly opened the box, and was shocked by how quickly it arrived. How did Morrigan contact the Hero of Ferelden so fast? Inside the small box, Rajmael found a letter addressed to him. Rajmael recognized the handwriting, this was a letter from Aedan Cousland himself.

**_To Rajmael Lavellan, Lord Inquisitor to the New Inquisition,_**

**_First, allow me to convey my thanks for what you did for my country. It shames me greatly to have not been there when demons, rogue Templars, and rebel Mages were terrorizing my people and I wasn't there to defend them. And when I learned that a Magister from Tevinter had ousted Arl Teagan out of his own castle, I wanted to rip the sorry fucker's throat out with my teeth. That Vint should be happy with whatever sentence you passed on him, because I would have done far worse. _**

**_Let me also express my apologies for what the Wardens have done. I always knew Clarel was weak, and now her actions have shamed everyone who wears the Grey._**

**_Morrigan told me everything that you've learned about Corypheus and Leliana sent me the report done by The Champion of Kirkwall, and I must say that I am beyond shocked. Not because of what this bastard seems to be, but because of how familiar this creature is to me. During the Amaranthine Crisis, my Wardens and I came across a very unique darkspawn emissary, that called itself the Architect. It was intelligent, capable of speech and incredibly powerful. Able to influence other darkspawn and even able to grant them intelligence as well, similar to an Old God. After The Mother's assault on Amaranthine, I went to the Dragonbone Wastes to slay her, and I was approached by the Architect and it proposed an alliance with me. I ripped the damned thing's head off and burned its body, but not before I looted its carcass. And what I found intrigued, and disturbed me._**

**_I found a journal on its body, and it wrote that it had...plans for Thedas. Thirty years ago, it concocted some mad scheme to make all the peoples of Thedas coexist with the darkspawn by forcing them to take in the taint through magical means and turn everyone into ghouls, but it was stopped by my predecessor, Duncan. And then, eleven years ago, it found the Old God Urthemiel and awoke it, prompting the Blight. I had never felt more glad in killing a darkspawn when I learned this. _**

**_I also found a strange amulet on the Architect. It was beyond ancient, and I had some of the best scholars examine it. I traced its origins to Tevinter, a specific religious order within the Ancient Tevinter Imperium called The Builders. The Builders were a sect of priests dedicated to Urthemiel, The Old God of Beauty. How a darkspawn on the opposite side of the world came across such a rare, and forgotten relic, I do not know. For years I didn't realize the importance of what this meant, until Morrigan informed me of Corypheus' origins and the similarities between the Architect and this Elder One. Perhaps you can se it to find answers._**

**_Inquisitor, if these creatures are anything alike, then they must be destroyed. Nothing good can come from these sins against nature, they ruin and violate everything they touch. I wish with all my heart and soul that I could be there to fight at your side and wipe this abomination out, from what Morrigan tells me, you are a worthy leader and a magnificent warrior, but my current quest has taken me far from this crisis. So let me pass on these words of advice: do not compromise who you are, what you believe, even in the face of doomsday. Do not push your allies aside, but don't let them dictate your actions. And finally, heed what Morrigan says. I know she can be...difficult at times, trust me, I know, but she also possesses knowledge and a sense of wisdom you will not find any where else in the world. There are very few in this world who can match her knowledge of the arcane, and she will fight to the bitter end against the enemy._**

**_I was surprised to learn that the Inquisitor is a Dalish elf and a mage. Good. Those Chantry shit-heads have been running this world into the ground for too long. It's time someone else showed the world how its done. And the fact that you're a heathen elf must really hit the Chantry where it hurts. May your magic protect you, your mind be strong, and your sword sharp._**

**_Now go forth and kick ass,_**

**_Aedan Cousland._**

Rajmael folded the letter and felt revitalized after receiving a pep talk from the Hero of Fereden on paper. He reached into the small box and pulled out the amulet Aedan had sent. It was made of dawnstone with rubies inlaid around the face. One the face was a design of a dragon circling around and biting its tail. And the sides had a geometrical layer, like the tumblers of a door lock on one side, and the teeth of a key on the other.

Without thinking, Rajmael placed the two amulets together, and to his surprise and horror, they fit perfectly together like pieces to a puzzle, and locked together.

_"No. No, no, no. Holy Dirthamen, please do not let this be true."_ Rajmael begged in vain as the revelation swirled through his head. One amulet belonged to Corypheus, formerly a high priest to the Old God, Dumat, and one of the seven Magisters that broke into the Fade. The second belonged to the high priest of Urthemiel, and was found in possession of a talking darkspawn with unknown magical powers and the ability to control darkspawn like an Old God. That could only mean that both the Elder One and The Architect were two of the seven magisters who created the Blight. Earlier, Dorian was trying into the genealogical history of Ancient Tevinter in the hopes of discovering Corypheus' true name. That would become his top priority.

Right now only one thought was racing through Rajmael's mind, one more frightening than Corypheus' pet dragon...

_"Where are the other five Magisters who broke into the Fade?"_

**Language Codex:**

_**Dirthara Banal'enaras: **_Elven phrase, roughly translates as _"Learn humility"._

**Author's Note:**

To all my readers and loyal fans, I am sorry that it took so long for me to update and post this chapter. It has been a crazy, busy month for me, and I was having fun playing that new DLC. I hope to get back to updating this story more regularly, but I make no promises. Please review and tell me what you think.


	26. Some More Personal Issues

**Some More Personal Issues**

It had been less than a week since the tragedy at Adamant Fortress, and as to be expected, the Wardens were treated with distrust and anger. This was understandable. Many of the Inquisition soldiers witnessed one of the most honored, most legendary Order of men and women slit the throats of their own brothers and sisters in an insane attempt to summon an army of demons. Needless to say, this would be a severe blemish on the Order of The Grey's reputation for years to come. Many of the surviving Wardens were more than happy to renew their purpose and seek redemption in the ranks of the Inquisition. Perhaps here this ancient Order of warriors could reconnect with the world they tried so desperately to save, instead of cutting themselves off from it and rediscover why they fight instead of how they should fight.

Rajmael noticed how withdrawn Blackwall had made himself ever since their last conversation about Clarel and the Order. He even stopped working on his rocking-griffon. The Inquisitor thought it would be best to find out what was eating at their residential Warden. Rajmael found Blackwall at his usual spot in the barn that housed the Inquisition's mounts. Rajmael's halla, Neirin, was sleeping softly while Blackwall just stood in front of a small fire, staring at it as though her were pondering some great truth. Rajmael wasn't sure he wanted to interrupt the Warden Recruiter's train of thought.

"You want a drink?" Blackwall asked. "I've a hankering for company."

"Good. 'Cause I've got a hankering for some Coastland Whiskey."

The Inquisitor and Warden both made their way over to the Tavern and sat at the bar with their drinks with Mayden singing her latest song, which, incidentally, was called "Oh, Grey Warden". Rajmael didn't know if the bard was trying to be inspirational or cruel. Rajmael took small sips of his whiskey and tried to savor its taste hoping the buzz would shake off the air of foreboding shadowing them while Blackwall just stared blankly at his ale. It was like he had just suffered some huge personal loss and was trying to find comfort in his drink, but was too scared to dive into it.

"When I was a boy, there were these urchins who used to roam the street near my father's house." Blackwall started off, finally breaking the awkward silence. "One day they found a dog, a wretched little thing. It came up to them for food. They caught it, tied a rope around its neck, then they strung it up. Do you know what I did?"

That caught Rajmael so off guard he almost choked down his whiskey. Just how much did Blackwall drink to suddenly tell such a dark story right out of the blue? "You...cut it down? Kicked the snot out of those little pricks and saved the dog?"

"I did...nothing. Not a damned thing." Blackwall confessed bitterly. "It was crying, I could see its neck straining, the legs kicking while it whimpered for help. And I stood by and let it happen."

"You were only a child. You couldn't have been the only one who saw that happening. No one else stepped in to stop them." Rajmael reasoned.

"That doesn't make what I did any less wrong. I may as well have tied the noose myself." Blackwall gritted through his teeth as though the mere thought of it hurt him. "I could have told my father, shouted to someone in the street, or ran over there and beat the snot out of them like they deserved. Instead, I just closed my eyes and pretended it wasn't happening. We _could _make the world better. It's just always easier to shut our eyes when things get dark."

"When I first met you in the Hinterlands, you were defending farmers and refugees from bandits when you didn't owe them a damned thing." Rajmael reminded objectively. "Then you joined the Inquisition of your own free will and stood by me even as the world fell apart. You're not a man to close your eyes when things get dark. You need to work on you start drinking at the tavern, but other then that..."

Blackwall couldn't help but chuckle dourly at that. "Of course you'd make light of it. Men like you, The Champion, and The Hero of Ferelden, make saving the world look easy. I know for a fact that none of you would have turned your backs. But this isn't just about what happened then. There's always some dog out there, some fucking mongrel that doesn't know how to stay away, and some pricks who want to string it up." Blackwall finally grabbed his mug and quaffed his ale down in several large gulps then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Ehhh. I'm sorry, Inquisitor. I must be getting old. Telling you my sob stories before I'm evn drunk. I'll...I'll see you in the morning."

Rajmael watched as the Warden-Constable somberly made his way out of the tavern and back to the barn. What in Mythal's name just happened? After all the battlefields this man had seen, all the horrors of war and mysticism he had faced, why was this childhood memory suddenly causing him such distress? Rajmael finished his whiskey and made his way out. Perhaps he would get some answers tomorrow when they were both sober.

**The Next Day...**

After a good night's sleep, Rajmael was able to sleep off the whiskey he imbibed last night. After overseeing several missions at the War Table, he decided to pay Blackwall a visit to see if he was doing any better. Maybe he just in a mournful mood because of the events at Adamant. But when he got there, it was completely empty except for Blackwalls little workshop and the smell of horses. Rajmael noticed a note on the incomplete rocking toy Blackwall had been working on. It read:

**Inquisitor,**

**You've been a friend and inspiration to me, and I thank you for allowing me to join with you. You've given me the wisdom to know right from wrong, and more importantly, how to stand up for what is truly right.**

**It's been my life's honor to serve with you.**

What was this? A resignation? Rajmael looked to the stables and saw that Blackwall's horse was gone, so was all his gear and equipment. Where did he go? No, something must have been wrong. Blackwall was not the kind of man who would just turn his back without completing what he set out to do. Rajmael had to find out what.

The Inquisitor got word to Leliana and a little while later, one of her agents came back to him.

"The Spymaster has confirmed it: Warden Blackwall is gone."

"Yes, I can see that. But where has he gone of to. Leliana must know something." Rajmael insisted impatiently.

"Sister Leliana had us search his quarters. Not much to find, except this. It was missing from last weeks reports. We've no idea what Warden Blackwall's interest in this particular matter is, but it could be a good place to start."

The agent handed Rajmael a wrinkled piece of paper that had been crumpled into a ball then unfolded again. It was certainly one of Leliana's reports. How could it go missing?

Lieutenant Cyril Mornay, one of the soldiers responsible for the Callier Massacre of 9:37, was captured in Lydes. Like the others who were arrested for their involvement, Mornay insists that he had no knowledge of who he was assassinating, and that he was following the orders of his captain. This Captain Thom Ranier is still at large. Mornay is to be executed within the week in Val Royeaux.

Why did Blackwall have this report? What did it have to do with him? Wardens are not involved with political struggles unless it pertained to the Blight. If this Cyril Mornay meant something to Blackwall, then Val Royeaux was the best place to get answers. Maybe they could get there before this man was hanged.

**Late In Val Royeaux...**

The Orlesian skies were grey and rain lightly fell from the clouds, giving the usually vibrant city an air of gloom. People of all social classes, nobles and commoners alike, were tightly packed in the Imperial Square, and crowded around the gallows as if it were some kind of circus performance. As someone who was once on the receiving end of a gallows and condemned with face humans justice, Rajmael found it sickening to see how many people had gathered around to watch this man get his neck stretched.

Rajmael saw the man who was to be condemned. He was an older man who certainly seemed like a man who had seen battle, face was riddled with scars. He looked weary, beaten, and doomed. The shackles locked around his wrists and ankles dug painfully into his skin, insuring that he could not escape. The bailiff and the executioner, both in their Orlesian masks that signified their professions, looked upon the prison with disgust.

The bailiff held out a scroll and read the chargers, loud enough so that the jeering crowd could hear why this man deserved to die. "Cryil Mornay, for your crimes against the Empire of Orlais, for the murders of General Vincent Callier, his wife, Lady Lorette Callier, the four children, and their retainers, you have been sentenced to hang from the neck until dead. Do you have anything to say in your defense?"

Mornay said nothing.

"Very well. The Revered Mother will recite your Last Rites."

"Well, this is...grim." Varrc sighed.

"Hmph. Human justice at work." Solas scoffed.

"Look at all the people that have gathered." Vivienne observed dismally. "I thought we were more civilized than this."

"Poor bastard." Sera said disinterestedly. "So! Where's food? Orlesians always stock these things." Vivienne groaned in disgust, but she was nearly as disgusted as Rajmael was when he saw that Sera was right. There were actually vendors here selling cakes, hot wine, and kebabs like this was some kind of tourney event drawn out to entertain the crowd.

Dorian finally asked the important question. "Who is this man to Blackwall? A friend? A brother?"

"Perhaps he wishes to recruit him for the Order?" Cassandra said with no more knowledge than the rest of them.

"Proceed!" The guard ordered. The Revered Mother finished giving the condemned his Last Rites, and the executioner fastened the noose tightly around Mornay's neck. His time had come.

"Stop this!" Cried the familiar voice of Warden Blackwall as he walked onto the gallows and halted the lynching.

"A Grey Warden." The bailiff sneered in contempt. The gathered crowed groaned in disappointment at having their grisly entertainment interrupted.

"This man is innocent of the crime." Blackwall declared. "The only thing he is guilty of is following orders, like any good soldier."

"Then bring me the man who gave the orders." The bailiff demanded.

"This doesn't look good, Boss." Iron Bull whispered.

**"BLACKWALL!"** Rajmael shouted over the crowd and rain.

"No. I'm not Blackwall. I never was Blackwall." The Warden denounced. "Warden Gordon Blackwall is dead, and has been for years. I assumed his name and his rank to hide, like a coward, from who I really am."

"It...it's you? After all these years!?" Mornay's face was painted with realization and betrayal.

"It's over. I'm done hiding." The imposter admitted with guilt in his eyes. "I gave the order. The crime is mine. I...am Thom Ranier."

This revelation left Rajmael, everyone in his company, at a loss for words, and completely stunned as the Orlesian guards clapped the false Warden in chains and hauled him away. This couldn't be true. Blackwall was one of the most honorable men he had ever met, perhaps one of the very few shemlen knights he had ever met that truly knew what honor was. Yet, the man just confessed to it, in front of him and a crowd full of people ready to watch another man swing from the end of a rope. Rajmael needed to find out what the truth was, and judging from the angry vein in Cassandra's forehead, she wanted some answers, too.

The Inquisitor asked the bailiff where they took the prisoner and was directed to the Val Royeaux prison cells. Like all shemlen prisons, it was dark, dank and reeked of mildew, refuse, and despair. Rajmael found Blackwall sitting in his own cell, crestfallen and overcome with shame. His eyes were hollow and his powerful shoulders slumped like a weak old man's. This was not the same man that Rajmael saw fighting demons at Adamant, or defending peasant in the Hinterlands. This was someone he knew nothing of.

"I didn't take Blackwall's life. I just traded his death." Thom Ranier confessed, staring at the stone floor of his cell. He couldn't bring himself to look at the Inquisitor in the eye. "He wanted me for the Wardens. But when I was gathering darkspawn blood for the Joining, there was an ambush. Hurlocks. He...took a blow for me, instead of letting me die like I deserved. And so I took his name to stop the world from losing a good man. But the man he was would never have let another die in his place. Let someone else suffer from his mistakes."

Rajmael looked down at his former comrade with intensity in his gaze. "Was what the guard, everyone in the courtyard, said true? Did you really kill all those people?"

"Yes, I did. It's all fucking true. It's time we all got a look at what I truly am." Ranier slammed himself against the bars in despair and self-loathing. "Don't you understand?! I gave the order to kill General Callier, his entourage, his whole fucking family! And when it came to light, I ran! Those men, my men paid for my treason, while I was off pretending to be a better man. This is what I am: A traitor, a murderer. No fucking different than the Templars or Chevaliers you despise. You'd be better off without my shame dragging you down."

Rajmael was beyond angry with this betrayal, but he wasn't fully convinced. "When we first met, you were defending peasants and refugees from bandits and demons. Then you joined me and stuck by me, even after Corypheus destroyed Haven and the whole world was crashing down around us. That man, and the man who committed that crime cannot be the same."

"If only saying that could make it true." Ranier lamented.

"If it was so terrible, then why? Why would you commit such a crime?"

"For gold." The prisoner answered bitterly. "The main reason behind most terrible acts. I was approached by some Chevalier, Robert Chapuis, who thought Gaspard was the rightful emperor. He thought that by killing one of Celene's best generals would endear himself to the would-be emperor. But I didn't give two nug-shits. The money was good, and I took it. So I set up an ambush to kill Vincent Callier when he was traveling to the capital."

"He paid you to wipe out a whole family?" Rajmael asked disbelievingly.

"I didn't know he was traveling with his wife and children, but it didn't really matter to me at the time. I told my men that were serving the empire, but I left out the part where I was paid a mountain of gold to commit treason. I gave the order to attack, but when we discovered that his carriage was full of children all clinging to their mother, they all realized what we had done. My men were loyal to me, and I betrayed that trust and made them kill a whole family. All for gold. When our crime came to light, we all ran, and Robert Chapuis drank some poison in his wine while he toasted Gaspard. Then I took Gordon Blackwall's identity so that I could hide from my crimes. That's why I deserve to be here, and not fighting at your side."

Rajmael couldn't believe this. How much of a fool could he be? He was supposed to be a follower of Dirthamen, yet he let himself be deceived so thoroughly. This was why this man refused to talk about the Order, or only gave half answers about the life of a Warden. Not because he didn't want to talk about it, but because he knew nothing of it. Rajmael knew better than most what it was like to have his life stolen from men in fancy armor, and using it to take and do what they wanted as though their swords and banners gave them the right to do so.

Rajmael stormed out of the cell block, frustrated, angry and still in shock over this whole ordeal. He was surprised to see Cullen waiting for him.

"I have Leliana's report on Thom Ranier." Cullen informed with the report in his hand. "It would seem our friend was once a respected captain in the Imperial Army, after winning the Grand Melee in Tantervale, and led a group of fiercely loyal men."

"Too bad she couldn't have given me this report before this whole fiasco started." Rajmael said angrily. There was nothing in that report that could tell him anything he didn't know now.

"None of us saw this coming, Inquisitor. Even Leliana has a bit of a blind spot when it comes to Wardens." Cullen reasoned. "Black...Rainier fate has been decided, and he seems to have accepted it. But that doesn't mean you have to. We have...resources."

"Are you asking me to spring him loose, Commander Cullen? Even after learning of his crimes?"

"Not quite. You could have him brought to Skyhold to be brought before your judgment." Cullen answered.

"And as one of my councilors, what is your opinion on this matter?"

A sour, resentful look gripped Cullen's face. "What he did disgusts me. The worst thing an officer can do is use then discard his men. He betrayed their trust, betrayed ours. But he lived his life as a Warden, joined the Inquisition, and risked his life to fight with you. Then when Mornay was arrested, he turned himself in, despite the consequences. Why?"

"Because a leaders job is to look after his comrades, even when they've made a terrible mistake, and especially when they're in trouble." Rajmael answered. He knew what he had to do. "I want Ranier released into my custody. Have Josephine call in a favor with the empress' court. After saving her throne from Florianne, I think she owes us more than one."

"At once, Inquisitor."

**Back at Skyhold...**

Once again, Rajmael found himself seated on the Throne of The Inquisition, ready to pass judgment on the soul sorry enough to stand before him. Rajmael felt more uncomfortable than usual sitting in this damned chair, and it wasn't just because it needed a new cushion. Now he must stand in judgment over a man he thought he knew, guilty of crimes Rajmael hated.

Josephine approached the throne, clipboard and quill in hand. She read the charges with sadness in her gaze and her voice.

"Before you stands Black...I'm sorry. Captain Thom Ranier, formerly known to us as Warden Blackwall. His crimes...well, you are already aware of what his crimes are. Empress Celen has allowed you custody over him, despite the calls for his execution. The decision of what to do with him is yours."

The Inquisition guards forcefully hauled the chained prisoner in front of The Inquisitor. Rajmael knew for a fact that Ranier could throttle both those men, even chained as he was. But he did nothing; Ranier wanted to be punished. All he could do now was stand silently and wait for the Inquisitor's word.

"I have to admit, I never thought I'd have you standing before me like this. The reality of it more difficult than I realized." Rajmael admitted.

"Just another thing to regret." Ranier gritted through his teeth. "What kind of strings did you have to pull to get me off the noose?"

"The Imperial kind."

"And you think this'll be the end of it? The whole world will learn how you've abused your power, how you used your authority to deny justice. They'll all forget the good you've done when this is all over." Blackwall lamented. "You're a criminal, same as me."

"Don't compare what I did to what you've done, Ranier. Don't even go there." Rajmael warned dangerously. "What's done is done. There's nothing anyone can do about that now."

"I accepted my punishment. I was ready for this all to be over!" Ranier argued. "Why would you interfere?"

"Maybe because I believe there's more to justice than being on the receiving end of noose in front of a crowd of jeering assholes." Rajmael answered honestly.

"Then what is to become of me?"

"Ranier, as Warden Blackwall, despite everything that's happened and all the horrors pitted against this Inquisition, you stood at my side and gave your life to this Inquisition and every victory we've had. Now...I give that life back to you, for everything that you did as Warden Blackwall."

Ranier stood dumbfounded. He could scarcely believe this was happening. Even Rajmael's other companions couldn't believe this was happening.

"What? It...can't be as simple as that."

"It isn't." Rajmael confirmed. "Ranier, the blood on your hands cannot be washed away by living a lie. Dishonor cannot be removed with more dishonor. You're free, only if you atone as the man you are, not the traitor you made yourself into, or the Warden you pretended be."

"The man I was? I barely remember him anymore. He..._I _have so much to make up for." Ranier took a breath, tried to take in what he was being handed. "If...my life is truly my own, then I pledge it to the Inquisition. Everything I am is at your disposal." The guards unclasped Ranier's shackles. "Tell me, if I had said anything less, would an arrow from the rookery have snuffed me like a candle?"

"No. I already talked to Leliana about that." Rajmael assured. "Now take your post, Blackwall."

Rajmael could feel the disapproving looks from Solas, Vivienne and Cassandra. But Rajmael didn't really care. Blackwall could have chosen not to join them, and his lie would have continue with no one the wiser. He could have let Mornay be executed, and no one would ever suspect him. But he chose to fight alongside Rajmael, despite being a heathen elf. He chose to save Mornay and accept the consequences of his actions. That was the kind of man they needed in this Inquisition, the kind of character this Inquisition needs to inspire. Honor is never an easy thing to live with, and it's even harder to get back after it's been given up. But it was possible. What most did not understand was that this world needed more compassion, even if it's undeserved, more than harsh justice.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael once again found himself in the streets of Val Royeaux. The recent rains had stopped and the sun was shining down on the vibrant city. He had returned to this city by the personal request of his Lady Ambassador. Josephine kept herself quiet, but Rajmael could sense the worry emanating from her. She was so high strung right now, she could have a stroke just walking to their destination. When calm, collected, and ever composed Josephine Cherett Montilyet, who kept her cool when Haven was attacked, during the events at the Winter Palace, and having Leliana as a best friend, was worried, Rajmael knew there was something seriously wrong in the world.

Earlier that day, Josephine had informed him of her family's dire straights. How her family's trading exile had all but destroyed her family's finances, how they've sold almost all their land to keep the creditors from calling in all their debts. As the Heir Apparent of House Montilyet, Josephine was determined to rebuild what her family had lost, and ensure that her family would never know hardship the way her ancestors had for the past century. Being an adopted parent, Rajmael completely understood her desperation.

Recently, Josephine had made arrangements with the Orlesian Comte to officially allow the Montilyets back in Orlais as landed tradesmen. This achievement would be the first step in rebuilding everything her family had lost, and could even help them rebuild their fleet. However, the couriers carrying those official documents had been murdered by some unknown party, and the documents destroyed, and the hopes of her family's future with them.

Thanks to Leliana's resourcefulness, Josephine had received word from a certain Comte Boisvert, a nobleman here in Val Royeaux, had information on who the killers were. Apparently, the Count wanted to publically meet with both the Lady Ambassador and the Inquisitor so as to increase his standing with the Orlesian nobility, and in exchange he would give them the information they needed.

What Rajmael didn't understand was why would anyone want to interfere with the fortunes of a family of traders? It made no sense, there was nothing to gain. Unless there was someone with a grudge, willing to risk the response of the Inquisition. If so, then Josephine's life might be in danger. But who could possibly have that much hatred for the Montilyets?

Being an adopted parent, Rajmael completely understood Josephine's desperation. She wanted to secure her family's future and regain the prestige and luster their name once possessed, just as Rajmael wanted to make sure Eva would never know the same hardships and terrors he had faced his whole life. That was why they had agreed to meet this Comte Boisvert at this café and indulge his petty need to impress his peers.

They found the nobleman sitting at a private table on the upper floor of the café. Apparently he rented the entire floor to meet with the Inquisitor and Ambassador Montilyet, and the rest of his companions were forced to wait outside the door.

"My friends. Come, sit." The Comte invited as a waiter poured him a glass of red wine. The Orlesian aristocrat was wearing vibrant but practical Orlesian styled clothing. The gilded mask he wore made it impossible for Rajmael to make out what he looked like. The only part of his face that wasn't covered was his mouth, so he could drink his wine. Rajmael didn't know why, but for some reason he felt uneasy. Like they were being watched by someone.

Josephine graciously accepted the invitation. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with us, Comte Boisvert."

"The honor is all mine, Madame Montilyet." The Comte assured. "It is my pleasure to assist such distinguished guests."

"While your assistance is welcome, Comte, you must realize already that you might be placing yourself in danger by assisting us." Rajmael notified seriously.

Boisvert took a savoring sip from his wine glass. "I'm afraid the danger is more severe than you realize, Inquisitor. Have you ever heard of the House of Repose?"

Josephine's face went aghast "The assassin's guild? What do they have to do with this?"

"My contacts have obtained a copy of a document in their archives. A contract for a life." Boisvert produced the copy and slid over to Josephine. Then resumed sipping his wine.

Josephine's eyes worriedly, but sharply, scanned the document. ""The House of Repose is hereby sworn to eliminate and all persons attempting to overturn the Montilyet's trading exile in Orlais." Josephine lifted her eyes from the contract completely stunned, but her composure was unmoved.

Rajmael was surprised at how calm Josephine was at learning there was a hit on her. "You don't look very shocked to know that there's a price on your head, Josephine."

"I knew trying to remove my family's exile would attract unwanted attention, but I never imagined it would be something like this." Josephine confessed.

"The contract was signed by a noble family. The Du Paraquettes." Boisvert answered.

"But the Du Paraquettes died out as a noble line over sixty years ago!" Josephine argued.

"Indeed. But the contract was signed _one hundred and nine years_ ago."

"Wait a minute, please. How can a deceased family be trying to kill her now?" Rajmael interjected.

"The Du Paraquettes were my family's rivals. They were the ones who drove the Montilyets into exile." Josephine answered. "The contract was drawn up over a century ago, but it wasn't invoked until after I tried to overturn my family's exile."

"Unpleasant though it may be, the House of Repose is merely fulfilling its contractual duty." Comte Boisvert informed.

"But that contract is obsolete! There is nothing for the House of Repose, and especially not the dead Du Parakeets, have to gain from this." Rajmael argued.

"A contract is a _contract_, Inquisitor!" Josephine stated firmly. "Orlesian guilds and societies live and die by their word. Any guild's reputation could be tarnished beyond repair for tossing aside the word of a bargain simply because of the whims of time and fate."

"I'm afraid she is quite right, Inquisitor." Boisvert agreed. "The House of Repose is simply doing what it feels is necessary. By its standards."

Rajmael sighed a breath of irritation. "You've always got a plan on how to deal with difficult bureaucracy, Josephine. Any thoughts?"

"The Du Paraquettes died out as a noble line, but they still exist under the Common Branch. If we can elevate them to nobility, I'm sure I can persuade them to rescind the contract on my life."

"That will take time, Lady Josephine." Comte Boisvert reminded. "In which the House of Repose will be obligated to hunt you down."

"Will they now?" The worry and shock on Josephine's face was replaced with accusation. "You seem to be intimately well informed about the workings of an assassins guild, Comte. Your message stated that you had rumors, at best."

"A bit of subterfuge on my part. The contract on your life is an ugly business. One that the House of Repose deeply regrets." The imposter admitted. Now Rajmael knew why he felt so uneasy earlier. "But this is Orlais, and even an assassin's word is his bond."

"Yeah? Well, the House of Repose has got some pretty big balls sending a hired killer to meet with us." Rajmael's hand slowly glided to his sword under the table.

"Hardly anyone in the guild is equipped to deal with this situation, Inquisitor. Given the unusual nature of the contract for Lady Montilyet's life is so unusual, we felt the courtesy of an explanation was in order."

"It...is appreciated, monsieur." Josephine thanked courteously, albeit, forlornly.

"Your plan to elevate the Du Parraquettes to nobility to revoke our orders is an interesting one. I wish the best of luck." The fake Comte rose from his seat to leave, but found the edge of Enasalin at his neck before he could take one step from the table. "I did not come to shed blood today, Inquisitor. Only to speak. Might I pass?"

"You honestly think you can have a contract for my advisor's life and that I'll just let you walk away? That is beyond stupid."

"I'm not half as stupid as you might think." The assassin assured. "Did you really think I would meet with the Inquisitor and not have a back up plan ready?"

Rajmael's grin widened sinisterly and his ears twitched. "You really think those assassins you've got hiding in the rafters are enough to stop me? I can kill all five of you before you can even touch us."

"Inquisitor, please!" Josephine beseeched. "This man has already shown us more courtesy and respect than he needed to by giving us this warning. He is merely upholding his guild's word and reputation. Blood is not always an answer."

"A would-be victim pleading for the life of her would-be killer? I don't know if that's poetic or just sad." Rajmael snorted and sheathed his sword. "You'd better thank your target, assassin. If not for her compassion, you and your men's heads would be my new paper weights."

"Thank you most sincerely, Lady Montilyet. I admire your professionalism. I truly hope we never meet again." the assassin gave a gracious bow and made his way out of the room. Rajmael and Josephine watched him leave just to be sure he was gone, the Inquisitor could hear his cohorts climbing through their exits on the roof.

"Well, I certainly didn't foresee our meeting ending like this." Josephine sighed.

"We're going to have to deal with these assassins." Rajmael insisted.

"I have some thoughts. Let us discuss them back at Skyhold."

**Back at Skyhold...**

Rajmael and Josephine were back in her office. If she was going to go through with her plan, she needed to start now. The House of Repose was not going to give them any more courtesy calls.

"Inquisitor, I am so sorry." Josephine apologized from her desk. "I never realized that trying to overturn my family's exile would trap us in an assassin's plot."

"Yeah, well, I never imagined going to the Conclave would trap me into leading an Inquisition. Nothing is ever as simple as we wish it could be." Rajmael sighed sarcastically.

"I've tracked down the last Du Paraquettes. If they become gentry, they can annul the contract on my life." Josephine informed. "We'll require a noble from Val Royeaux to sponsor them, a judge to provide documents, and a minister to ratify them..."

"It's so like you to take the longest course of action, even when your life is at stake." Leliana waltzed in the room from the shadows, chuckling as though she heard an entertaining joke.

"I assume you already know everything about this mess." Josephine groaned.

"I'd be a poor spymaster and even worse friend if I didn't." Leliana assured. "There is a faster way, Josephine: the original contract for you life is in the vault in the House of Repose' archives. I can dispatch my agents to find and destroy the original, then the House of Repose will have no true obligation against you."

"Leliana, please. I want no more bloodshed over this personal affair." Josephine pleaded with her friend.

"Don't be stubborn, Josie! How long will it take for you to gather these favors in Val Royeaux?" Leliana argued.

Rajmael got between both his female advisors. "Girls, girls, please! You're both pretty, but seeing as this is Josephine's issue, and she's the one who started this whole mess, she should get to decide how we solve this problem."

"Thank you, Inquisitor. I think?"

"Regardless of what you do, I will assign more guards to watch you, Josephine." Leliana promised. "And my offer does stand in case you change your mind."

"I appreciate it, Leliana, but I do believe my plan will work. I just need to curry the right favors."

**Some Time Later**

Leliana wasn't kidding when she said that this was the long way around an already difficult problem. First Josephine needed someone to sponsor the remaining Du Parraquettes to nobility. Not an easy task considering how uptight and stingy Orlesian nobles were when it came to the class divide between them and the peasantry. Thankfully, Comtess Dionne was willing to sponsor the would-be nobles if the Inquisition found out what happened to her lover, a mage named Ellerly, who went missing in the heat of the Mage-Templar war.

How hard could finding one mage lost in the turbulent chaos of the Mage-Templar war be? Like anyone had to ask.

Thankfully, the Comtess' relationship with her mage lover was hardly a secret, and the Orlesians love their gossip. That made it easy for Leliana's agents to find Ellerly, who was found injured, but alive in a Ferelden Inn after the explosion of the Conclave. With her lover found alive and well thanks to their efforts, Comtess Dionne gladly agreed to give the Du Paraquettes her sponsorship.

Next they needed to get a judge to officially sign the documents formally requesting the Du Paraquettes rise to nobility. Rajmael actually thought this task would be easier, considering that the judge in question was Judge Auld, a renowned big game hunter famous for tracking down dangerous prey. Judge Auld was about to mount a hunting party and he wanted members of the Inquisition's guard to accompany him on his latest hunt after some rare breed of giant spider. Instead, he got something better: The Inquisitor himself, and The Iron Bull and his Chargers.

It shouldn't have been a surprise that this little hunt was not as easy as Rajmael had hoped. Turns out the rare giant spider that Judge Auld wanted to hunt was actually a Vartarell, the king of spiders created by the elven gods, and something Rajmael was actually scared of. After spending half the day running from it, and the other half fighting it, Rajmael and the Bull's Charger's were finally able to kill the damned thing. Judge Auld laughed and laughed, and said he would be insane not to do this favor for the Inquisition after such an entertaining hunt. Considering that the Vartarell almost killed the judge, Rajmael was surprised how well this turned out.

They now had two of the several things necessary to elevate the Du Parraquettes and get the House of Repose of Josephine's back. Rajmael needed to find out their next move. Hopefully this would be behind them both soon.

A shrill scream and the sound of a blade plunging into flesh came from Josephine's office. Rajmael rushed in there with his sword drawn. He found an Inquisition guard standing over the body of a slain servant with a dagger in her hand. Josephine was standing in front of the body, shocked, stunned, but otherwise unharmed.

"What happened here?!"

"Inquisitor! It seems that the House of Repose decided to pay us a visit." Josephine answered, still in shock. "The guard arrived in time, but I should have guessed that they would infiltrate the servants."

"They're clearly professionals. Not many are capable of slipping past Leliana." Rajmael observed as he looked at the body. "Are you unharmed, Josephine?"

"Yes. Leliana had her people shadowing me. I was only frightened, thanks to this guard's swift response. I owe my life, Sergeant."

"Just doing my job, ma'am." The guard dutifully responded. "I'll talk to the Spymaster about these murderous louts. She'll find out how they got in."

"We cannot delay this any longer, Josephine. These assassins aren't going to conveniently wait while you play around with beauracracy with your life at stake!"

"I know that, Inquisitor, but we are so close." Josephine insisted. "All we need to do know is get one of the members of the Council of Heralds to officially ratify the Du Parraquettes as part of the Orlesian nobility. They are in charge of matters of rank in the Orlesian aristocracy."

"Knowing how pompous the Orlesian nobles are, I doubt they're just going to willingly accept a house of peasants into their ranks."

"Normally, you'd be correct, but one of the members of the Council of Heralds may be...amenable." There was a hint of uncertainty in Josephine's voice. "Minister Bellise is willingly to speak with you, but only in person. She will be attending a party at the manor of the Marquis Wiscotte. I'll get you an invitation."

"Josephine, this would all be so much easier if we just used Leliana's plan and retaliate against the House of Repose." Rajmael insisted adamantly. "And after what they just pulled her, I don't think that it's such a bad idea."

"No! Please, Inquisitor. I do not want to be responsible for any more bloodshed. We are so close to elevating the Du Paraquettes, you just need to meet with Minster Bellise. Please. I don't want anyone dying on my behalf, assassins or no."

Josephine's pleas for clemency for these assassins confounded Rajmael. But this was her operation, and he would respect her wishes. "Very well, Ambassador. I will go meet with this Minister Bellise.

**Later at the Marquis Wiscotte's Chateau...**

Rajmael detested Orlesian parties. Always so overly extravagant and fanciful. A gathering of peacocks strutting around to show off their feathers. But even he could tell this party was so boring that he was surprised no one fell asleep on their feet. The only time the crowd seemed truly excited was when Madam De Fer walked into the room, and that just didn't feel right to Rajmael. Maybe Sera and Varric could liven things up a bit. He sent Sera to spike the punch bowl and had Varric to talk up the nobility.

While Sera and Varric caused their little bit of mischief, Rajmael was able to steal a moment with Minister Bellise with Iron Bull, Cole and Blackwall accompanying him. The Minister wore a white summer dress and hate, and her porcelain mask completely hid her face. Rajmael was surprised she could even breathe under that thing.

He noticed her eyes, though. He noticed that they were staring right at Iron Bull. Interesting.

"Thank you for meeting with me, Minister Bellise."

"Inquisitor. I'd chastise you for taking me from the soiree, but the Marquis throws such dull affairs, it's hardly worth it." The Minister stated with a voice as old and as harsh as an oak branch. "I assume you wish to discuss elevating these Du Paraquettes to a minor lordship. Tell me, why should I let you pollute the Orlesian nobility anymore than it as already been muddied?"

Somehow Rajmael was not surprised. "I take it you are not fond of Orlais' present day nobility?"

"I am not." The Minsiter stated avidly. "It has become a mongrel mix of merchants and tradesman usurping the rightful place of Orlais' true nobility. So many nobles died try to keep Ferelden from falling back into the hands of those dog-lords, and now they give out titles as if they were treats. Really, it causes me too much pain to speak of! What could you possibly give me that would make this insult worth my effort? And do not attempt to charm me, I am far too old for it."

This woman must have been from the Blessed Age judging from how she viewed the world.

Rajmael rolled his eyes in annoyance. The only decrepit old biddy allowed to talk down at him was Keep Deshanna. "Um, let's see, I have some of the most influential trading contracts at my disposal, Empress Celene owes me a couple of favors. Oh! And I'm the fucking Inquisitor! I think I'm more capable of offering something more than worth your time. Like, perhaps, diplomatic connections far beyond the borders of Val Royeaux, perhaps? I'll even throw in a night with Iron Bull here to sweeten the deal."

"Say what?" Iron Bull questioned.

"Hmm. I might make use of your Ambassador. The Montilyets aren't what they once were...but at least they are from _proper_ stock." Minister Bellise grudgingly conceded. "Arrange for me to be introduced to the Court of Antiva. I hear winter is most pleasant by their sea. Very well, Inquisitor. Should you fulfill your end of the bargain, I shall...raise the Du Paraquttes to lordship." The Minsiter sighed despondently before turning to leave. "Oh, and your qunari can follow me. I have a guest room here where he can uphold _his_ end of the bargain."

That caught both Rajmael and Iron Bull off guard.

"I, uh... I was only joking about that part." Rajmael informe..

"I wasn't." The Minister said seriously.

"Well, what the heck. I'll try anything twice." Iron Bull admitted as he followed after the older woman.

"When we get to my chambers, I expect you to listen. I have a harness and saddle I think will fit you perfectly." Minister Bellise instructed.

"Yes, ma'am." Iron Bull answered eagerly.

Rajmael had the sudden urge to take a bath, and get out of here as fast as possible. Iron Bull's constitution was greater than Rajmael realized.

**Later at the docks by the Val Royeaux Bazaar...**

With the Du Paraquettes finally raised to lordship, thanks to the sponsorship of Comtess Dionne, the papers affirming their status ratified by Judge Auld, and Minister Bellise formally recognizing them as nobles, Josephine invited Rajmael to meet with her at the Val Royeaux docks. The Inquisitor found his Ambassador leaning on a rail by the water ways staring at the various ships that were making port, no doubt dreaming about rebuilding her family's fleet, with a look of serene joy on her face.

"I have received word from the House of Repose, My Lord. They officially declare that their contract is null and void. There's no longer a price on my life." Josephine sighed with relief.

Rajmael smiled sarcastically. "Such a polite guild of cutthroats! Especially after they already tried to kill you."

"Yes. I...I am truly sorry that you were forced to deal with them. That you and my family's fortune were endangered by my part of the game." Josephine stared back out the ships, with memory dancing in her eyes. "Did you know that I used to be a bard?"

That caught Rajmael by surprise. He had a hard time imagining Josephine of all people being an agent for hire. He once saw the woman go deathly pale from watching a goose getting carved. "You were an assassin? Forgive me if I have a hard time picturing that."

"Ha. Yes, and I've worked very hard to keep it that way." Josephine laughed sheepishly. "When I was attending the University of Val Royeaux with all the other gentry from Antiva, when I learned about bards. I was swept up by the tales of dashing rogues, alluring secrets, and exotic trysts. It was all so romantic! I decided that this was the life for me." A curtain of regret came over Josephine. "During one particular intrigue, I discovered another bard sent to kill my patron. We fought, or scrapped, I should say. Both of us were terrified. We were fighting at the top of steep flight of stairs, the other bard drew a knife, and I pushed him away. You can imagine the result." Shame and sorrow now completely gripped Josephine's face.

"I can imagine. And in retrospect, it was better you then him." Rajmael said truthfully.

"But it was such a waste, Inquisitor!" Josephine adamantly insisted with tears almost in her eyes. "When I took off his mask, I _knew_ him! We'd attended parties together! If I had stopped to use my voice, try to use reason instead of scuffling like a common thug...I'll always wonder who that young man might have become. Maybe he could have still been one of my peers in the senate, or..."

"Or maybe he could have been that assassin who broke into Skyhold who tried to murder you." Rajmael stated.

"Perhaps. I feel that I'm that last one to judge whether or not he would have used the blade. In all the commotion I...Oh, forgive me. I don't believe I ever thanked you for all that you have done for me."

"And you don't need to, Josephine. You're one my people, and I consider you a valued advisor and friend." Rajmael smiled brightly.

Josephine beamed across her face and she bowed her head respectfully. "I will never forget how you helped save the House of Montilyet, Your Worship. If you should ever find yourself in Antiva, please know that the reception my family will give you will be legendary." Josephine curtsied and decided to make her way back to Skyhold.

Rajmael waited until Josephine was well out of sight and earshot. "Did you know about all that, Leliana?"

Sister Nightingale emerged out of nowhere like a shadow. "That Josie used to be a bard? Yes. I helped her escape the repercussions when she abandoned that life. I would have been a poor friend if I didn't. I'm surprised that she told you. She must trust you deeply, Inquisitor."

"She is one of us, and I always look after my people."

"Why did you call me here then? You've already dealt with Josephine's problem with the House of Repose."

"Yes, but I didn't deal with the problem that is the House of Repose." Rajmael answered sternly. "They broke into my keep, and made an attempt on my Ambassador's life. I cannot let this stand."

"Ah. You want them to no the price of crossing the Inquisition." Leliana realized.

"Yes. I want you to gather our most destructive agents. Katari, Korbin, Argent, Luka, Neria and Rion will be perfect. Dispatch them to the House of Repose' archives and have them destroy every contract, document and financial bond in that building. I want the House of Repose to be the House of Ashes when they're done, so that all the assassins in the world know not to touch any member of the Inquisition."

"I will see it done, Inquisitor." Leliana promised. "But what of Josephine? She was most adamant to not take this path."

"And she won't. I am doing this of my own volition with no other motivation than my own ego." Rajmael promised. "And besides, I won't tell her if you won't."

"I was never even here, Inquisitor." Leliana responded mischievously. "Now I'll _not'_ go dispatch that '_unknown'_ group of agents I've '_never'_ heard of."

**Later back at Skyhold...**

Rajmael returned to his basee of operations hoping to unwind at the Skyhold tavern after dealing with the pain in the ass that is Orlesian bureaucracy. He was hoping to enjoy some Fereldan ale when he saw Cole arguing with Solas of all people. Great. Another problem Rajmael would probably have to deal with.

"No!" Solas refused.

"But you like demons!" Cole argued.

"I enjoy the company of spirits, yes, which is part of why I do no abuse them with binding spells."

"It isn't abuse if I ask for it!" Cole insisted.

"That isn't always true." Solas informed. "Also, I do not practice blood magic, which renders this conversation completely academic

"I'm almost too tired to care, but what's going on?" Rajmael asked and dashed away his hopes of getting drunk.

"He won't bind me." Cole explained anxiously. "He's a mage, and he likes demons, but he won't bind me."

"And as a mage, I don't blame him." Rajmael said back. "No ethical mage with respect for spirits should ever do such a thing. And after what we saw the Grey Wardens doing at Adamant, I would not allow such a thing, especially amongst my own companions."

"But you have to!" Cole asserted walked off distressed and stared into the distance and Rajmael could see the panicked worry on his face under his hat. "If you and Solas won't bind me, then maybe another mage could. Will? Like the Grey Warden mages! And then...Then I won't be like me anymore. Walls around what I want, blocking, bleeding, making me a monster." The Spirit of Compassion spoke in that curious, unsettling manner of his.

"You...want us to bind you to stop you from hurting people? Like how the Grey Warden mages made other spirits hurt people when they performed those blood rituals?"

"Yes! I've already hurt people before, but that was because I didn't know. I don't want to hurt people if someone else uses a ritual like the mages at Adamant. That's why I want someone I know to bind me, make me unable to hurt."

"I understand your fear, Cole, I truly do. But stripping you of what you've become is not the answer. It is never the answer. There must be another way."

"Indeed." Solas confirmed. "I recall tales of Rivaini seers using special amulets to protect spirits they summoned from rival mages. a spirit wearing the Amulet of the Unbound is immune to blood magic and binding. It should work for Cole as well."

"And it just so happens that we have a certain Rivaini Pirate Queen on our payroll." Rajmael remembered. "I'm sure I can get Isabella to procure such a talisman."

"Good." Colse said with relief in his voice as he walked off into shadow once more. "They cannot take me."

**Later...**

Considering that Isabella was one of the most notorious pirates in the Thedas, with many contacts within the criminal underground and access to the various smuggling operations in the Free Marches, Antiva and Rivain, Rajmael should not have been surprised it how quickly he received the Amulet of the Unbound. It was delivered to him by a courier and came with a letter signed by a kiss mark with Isabella's lipstick.

Rajmael brought the Amulet to Cole, and he decided that they should bring it to Solas in the library's rotunda.

"You found one of the amulets. Excellent! May I?" Cole handed the amulet to their Fade expert. "It is simple enough. You put it on, I charge it with magic, and the spell should protect you."

"Will this truly shield Cole from blood magic?" Rajmael questioned.

"Have faith, Inquisitor." Solas lifted his hand to Cole and an aura of blue magic surrounded them both as the amulet charged. Then suddenly, the aura blew up in their face like a high pitched fire work that rang through the whole floor and sent Cole staggering back.

Varric walked in, drawn by the unknown and sudden squeal of magic that was now ringing in their ears, and saw Cole rubbing his head in pain. "Oh, for the love of...What are you doing to the kid now?"

"Stopping blood mages from binding me like the demons at Adamant. But it didn't work." Cole answered.

"Something is interfering with the enchantment." Solas informed.

"Something like Cole not being a demon, maybe?" Varric pointed out.

"Cole's circumstances are unique. Perhaps something connected to these unique circumstances are what stopping the amulet from protecting him." Rajmael suggested. "Perhaps he is simply...too human?"

Solas shook his bald head in disagreement. "Regardless of the physical form Cole took when he entered this world, he is still, in fact, a spirit."

"Yes, a spirit who is strangely like a person!" Varric insisted.

"I don't matter!" Cole cried. "Just lock away the parts of me that could that someone else could knot together and make me follow and hurt people!"

"Focus on the amulet." Solas instructed. "Tell me what you feel."

Cole stood there and concentrated. Trying to feel out the solution within himself. "Warm, soft blanket covering, but it catches, tears, I am the wrong shape. There's something else..." Cole turned around and pointed eastward. "There. That way."

"Great. For all I know, Isabella just picked up that amulet in a flea market and that's why it doesn't work." Rajmael grumbled.

"I wouldn't put it past Rivaini, but I doubt she'd do that to you." Varric assured. "Listen, kid, maybe work with Cullen and find out where on the map your strange feeling is telling you to go. Maybe you can still find answers."

"Will you come with me?" Cole asked scared. "All of you?"

"Sure thing, kid." Varric promised. Cole left the room to go find Cullen and left the rest of them alone with each other. Solas watched as Cole left with deep concern on his face.

Varric noticed the look on the older elf's face. "Alright, Chuckles, I get it, you like spirits and the Fade, and all that. But he came into this world to be a person. Maybe you should let him be one."

"Cole has come far being what he is. I don't want to strip that from him if we can." Rajmael confessed. "But he needs our help now more than ever."

"I'm not saying we do nothing." Varric assured. "But from what I understand from years of living in Kirkwall, blood magic only works on demons, right?"

"This is not some fanciful tale that you can simply give a desired ending to, Child of The Stone." Solas denounced. "We cannot change our nature simply by wishing."

"Isn't that exactly how we change our nature, Solas?" Varric questioned.

"However we deal with the problem, our next step is to track down whatever is interfering with the enchantment." Solas agreed. "Let us be on our way."

**Later in Redcliffe Village**

The village of Redcliffe had been making a steady recovery from the time when Magister Alexius had seized control of the castle. Just like the Blight and when the dead roamed these lands, the people were doing their best to just forget what happened there and get on with their lives. Considering how little damage was done when compared to what happened during the Blight, many were actually grateful for the Inquisition's intervention.

The village was relatively empty and quite. Most of the people had gone back to working their fields and casting their nets. As they approached the village they saw a human man dressed in Fereldan leathers with a huge mustache having some kind of exchange with a dwarf.

"Yeah. This should get me through the month." The man confirmed as he handed the dwarf a pouch of coins. The man noticed the group of strangers and walked to approach them. The man must have been new to the village to not know who they were. "Greetings, strangers. Can I help you?"

"You..." Cole seethed with pained anguish. The Spirit of Compassion materialized in front of the man in a cloud of smoke and forced him to his knees, his dagger raised high above his head. "You killed me!"

"What...? I-I don't even know you!" The man yelled in shock and fear.

"You forgot! You threw me in the dungeon at the White Spire, and you forgot while I died in the dark!" Cole shouted, his anger peaked by the pain he felt.

"Wh-what? The Spire?" The grave realization of his crime became apparent on his face as he started shaking with fear and guilt.

"Cole, stop!" Solas called.

The man took the opportunity to run as fast as his legs could carry him while Cole was distracted. But Cole followed after him.

"Whoa, now. Take it easy, Kid." Varric bade.

"He killed me! He killed me, that's why it doesn't work. He killed, now I have to kill him back!" Cole's voice cracked with pain and angry, bitter tears welled up in his eyes.

"Wait! Before there are any fatalities that don't involve Venatori or Red Templars, would someone tell me what's going on?" Rajmael demanded.

"Cole, this man could not have killed you. You are a spirit. You have not even possessed a body." Solas reminded deliberately.

"A broken body, bloody, banged on the stone cell floor, guts gripping in the dark dank. A captured apostate." Cole remembered as though he could feel every word as he spoke. "They threw him into the dungeon at the White Spire in Val Royeaux, and forgot about him. He starved, thirsted, wasted away in the cold dark after screaming his voice hoarse and broke his fists while he cried for help. I...broke through the barriers, found my way into the cold stone where he lay forgotten. I came to help him, but I couldn't. So I became him. Cole."

"If Cole was an apostate, then that means that guy was a Templar." Varric realized. "That dwarf he was talking to must've been a lyrium smuggler."

"Please. Please, let me kill him. I need to...I _need_ to." Cole followed after the running Templar with murder in every step he took.

Every word Cole drew at each of them like a knife in their hearts. Solas maintained his calm, unbiased façade stead. Rajmael, on the other hand, felt a cauldron of emotions churning inside him. It was Templars like this, and how they treated others, and what they did to him that made him hate them so much. But this wasn't about how Rajmael felt. He had no idea how Cole should handle this, or how it would effect him.

"Solas, you're an expert on spirits. What do you think we should do?"

"We cannot let Cole kill that man." Solas answered.

"I don't think anyone was going to suggest that, Chuckles." Varric pointed out.

"Cole is a spirit, he came to this world to help another, but the death of the real Cole deeply effected, drove him away from his original purpose." Solas explained. "If he is going to regain that part of himself, he must learn to forgive what was done to him."

"Oh, come on, Solas! You can't just forgive someone for _killing_ you!" Varric contested.

"You can't. But a spirit can. Especially when that spirit is of Compassion."

Varric didn't accept that. "Cole's not just a spirit, though, is he? Cole's angry, and he's got every right to be. He needs to work through it."

"A spirit doesn't work through emotion. It embodies them." Solas denounced.

"Look, Cole came here to be a person. To honor the memory of the real Cole. If he just forgets what that guy did, then he may even forget his reason for being here, forget Cole altogether." Varric argued.

Solas fervently shook his head. "You would completely alter the essence of what he is."

"No, he did that himself when he first left the Fade. I'm just trying to help him survive." Varric explained. The dwarf looked to the Inquisitor for answers. "Rajmael, you've been hurt, a lot. Especially by Templars. You know what it's like to have bad things happen to you, but not be controlled by it. Even when your family's murderer is crying at your feet. Was any of that easy?"

"No. No, it was not." Rajmael knew all too well what suffering was like. The scars that blanketed his whole body were a constant reminder. "But just forgetting the pain and the injustice of it is just as bad as turning a blind eye to it. Compassion is a wonderful, marvelous thing, but it can't just be handed out like candy, or it is meaningless. If Cole is to come to grips with what happened, then he must confront this man and what he did to him. Compassion must also walk in hand with justice."

"Leave it to me, Inquisitor. I'll handle it." Varric promised.

Varric caught up with Cole while the two elves followed after them. The enraged Spirit of Compassion cornered the murderous Templar at a cliff over a rocky bank just outside the village. The frightened human's head snapped left and right looking for another way to escape, but the only way out was past the young man he murdered. Cole stared at the man with murder and rage in his eyes.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" The man begged.

"Sorry isn't going to help him now, is it, Kid?" Varric asserted.

"No. It isn't." Cole answered venomously.

Varric cocked a bolt into Bianca's firing lane, and handed her to Cole. Now Rajmael knew just how serious Varric was: Varric never let anyone fire Bianca. "Just look down the scope, squeeze the trigger, and put him down like a mad dog."

Cole pressed the crossbow's stock against his shoulder, Bianca shook in his trembling grip, and looked down her scope with angry tears in his eyes.

"Do it!" Varric urged.

"No! Please!" The Templar begged.

An agonized yell of anger and loss erupted from Cole's lips, and he pulled the trigger. The Templar cried in terror as Bianca's arrow flew from her arms, faster than lightning. Everyone froze and watched in shock at what Cole had done.

He opened his eyes, and looked at what happened. He was more shocked than anyone at what just happened. The arrow flew right by his head. The Templar was still alive. Cole did not shoot him.

Cole breathed a breath of anguish, the tears now freely streamed down his face. He just couldn't do it.

Varric carefully took his beloved Bianca back from Cole. "How you doing, Kid? You feeling better?"

"No." Cole sobbed.

"You can't just make pain go away, even if you kill him. That's something I learned the hard way." Varric said with sincere sympathy.

Cole raised his hand to the shivering Templar. "Forget..."

Varric interrupted the young man's hand and interrupted his spell. "No, Kid. He's got to learn to live with it. Just like you do."

"Please...please. Let's just go home now." Cole wept.

Rajmael was shocked as a wave of nostalgia crashed against him. This was just like when Nethras handed the Chantry mother responsible for murdering his parents and burning him at the stake. She was at his feet after almost twenty years, begging for mercy. Rajmael wanted to kill her more than anything, the urge to take her life was overwhelming, like a hunger or thirst that needed to be satisfied. But he couldn't. Even after all the pain and terror she put him through, Rajmael couldn't lower himself to her level. And Cole just painfully went through that same emotional ordeal. Perhaps Rajmael and Cole had a lot more in common than most would think.

**Back at Skyhold...**

Rajmael, Varric and Solas found themselves back in the library. Solas was quite beside himself the whole journey back.

"For all we know, the amulet will never work now. Cole remains vulnerable to binding." Solas said sullenly

"No, he isn't, Chuckles." Varric rebutted. "The amulet didn't work on Cole because he's too human. Maybe now the Kid's too human for that binding magic to work on him."

"Solas, what we saw back there was one of the most extraordinary things I've ever seen." Rajmael lectured. "Compassion, true compassion, is one of the rarest and most precious things in this world, just like a Spirit of Compassion is. But a Spirit of Compassion gives that gift freely because it's in it's nature to do so. But for mortals like us, it is not something that can be given away so freely like cheap candy, especially to those who wronged us. But when it is given, especially to those who don't deserve it, that is when we find what is truly best within ourselves."

"I hope you're right, Inquisitor. For Cole's sake most of all." Solas responded as he took in Rajmael's words.

Cole entered the room, limping as though he had just been in a fight. Perhaps this ordeal effected more than on just an emotional level.

"It still hurts. When does it stop hurting?" Cole asked painfully.

"Pain...never just goes away, Cole. But it will get better, in time. And your friends can help you move past it, make memories that will overshadow your pain. And eventually, it will fade away." Rajmael answered gently. "I'm very proud of you, Cole."

"Come on, Kid. Let's go for a walk, it'll clear your head." Varric invited.

"The Left Hand misses a friend with two different names, she's sad, alone, but..." Cole's trance ended abruptly before he could finish. He seemed at a loss, confused, shocked. "Everyone can see me now. They remember me. How will I put honey in Leliana's wine without her noticing?"

"I can help with that. It's a little trick called a 'Roofie'." Varric answered grinningly. "The best way to do it is to distract her with something she likes."

"Like shoes? She likes red shoes with golden embroidery, they make her feel happy."

Varric's roguish grin widened from ear to ear. "Kid, I think you're going to make a wonderful real boy."

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael made his way to Leliana in the rookery to get a status report from their operatives and agents throughout Thedas, and learn of any Venatori activity. He found Leliana sitting at her desk next to the modest shrine to Andraste. The Spymaster was staring at an open letter on her desk, whatever its contents were, it left Sister Nightingale with a look stunned sadness. She was so focused on the letter she didn't even notice Rajmael's approach.

"A message from Divine Justinia." Leliana revealed when she finally acknowledged the Inquisitor's presence.

"I see. Is this one of your old correspondences with her?"

"No. Quite the opposite, in fact." Leliana answered with confusion. "This letter was written months, perhaps even years ago...to be delivered to me in the event of Justinia's death. I've heard of such contingency plans. A sudden death often leaves loose ends."

"And you got it just now? I see her couriers were quite prompt to give it to you." Rajmael said sarcastically.

"To be fair, things have been rather hectic and chaotic since the Conclave's destruction." Leliana said dryly. "I am to go to Valence..."

"Where?"

"It's a small village on the Waking Sea, and a place that Justinia held very dearly to her heart." Leliana answered. "She was the Revered Mother of the Chantry there for many years before she was Divine. There is something hidden there. Something Justinia wants me to find."

"And you wish to take leave from your duties to pursue your friends final wishes?"

"Well, yes. The Divine was a powerful woman who used her position to obtain all manner of things. Whatever she hid in Valence would best serve the Inquisition, and kept out of the wrong hands." The Spymaster explained. "And I would like you to accompany me."

Rajmael groaned unhappily. "Leliana, you know I don't do well with Chantries."

"I know, you've made your stance on this matter quite clear." Leliana would be a fool to have forgotten the times and reasons Rajmael raved against the Chantry. "But this isn't about that. If whatever's hiding in Valence is as valuable as I think it is, then we will not be the only ones looking for it. I shall meet you at the Chantry in Valence. Try not to delay."

**Later in the Valence Chantry, near the Waking Sea...**

The Inquisitor made his way to Valence alone, less chances of attracting attention that way. Rajmael made his way straight to the Chantry, which was situated on a small hill that overlooked the village. This house of human worship was very small compared to some of the other ones he had seen, but it still possessed that Orlesian extravagance that Rajmael disliked. Marble statues of martyrs, exemplars, and past Divine's stood along the path up to the massive carved door, and those damned bells ringing like there was a no tomorrow. Definitely not a place Rajmael would want to spend his time.

"Glad you could make it, Inquisitor." Leliana greeted as she emerged from the shadows, startling Rajmael. "I was beginning to think you'd gotten lost."

"I did get lost. Your Chantries all have the same sense of pretentious fashion and air of arrogance that it's hard for me to tell them apart." Rajmael rebutted sardonically.

"Come. Let us go inside before we are noticed." Leliana invited, ignoring Rajmael's comment.

Inquisitor and Spymaster entered the Chantry, and for such a small one, this place was quite extravagant with its gilded pictures, marble sculptures and polished floor. All this finery was here no doubt thanks to the generosity of the previous Divine who ministered here. Orlesians obviously didn't know the meaning of humility.

Leliana knelt before the giant alabaster image of Andraste with reverence and whispered a quick prayer. "This place is just as I remembered it."

Rajmael curiously quirked an eyebrow. "You mean you've been here before?"

"Yes. After the Blight ended, I said my goodbyes to Aedan and all my comrades, and came here to see Justinia. She was just Dorothea then, a Revered Mother. She helped me many years ago, when I was at my lowest point after I was betrayed by someone I held dearly." Leliana explained. "It is good to see this place still untouched by Corypheus."

Rajmael looked around with a careful eye. "I thought Chantries were supposed to always to be filled with priests and singing. This place is almost as vacant that spot in Vivienne's chest where her heart is supposed to reside."

"It is a small Chantry, and many of its attendants are out performing services." Leliana assured.

A Chantry priestess appeared from around the corner. Surprise and joy smacked on to her face when she saw the newly entered patrons of this place. "Leliana? Is that you?"

Leliana was equally surprised. "Sister Natalie? What are you doing here? I thought you were still in Val Royeaux."

"No, I've been here since Divine Justinia died. This place makes feel like...she's still here with us." Natalie embraced Leliana as a friend and sister would, but despite how welcoming Leliana's arms were, her face relayed a message of distrust and caution to Rajmael. Rajmael understood the message.

"You must be careful, Natalie. Justinia's rivals are making dangerous moves, vying for position and the Sunburst Throne." Leliana said cautiously. "I don't want to see you harmed."

"You do not need to fear for me, my friend. I know Andraste watches over me." the Sister assured.

"Inquisitor, this is Sister Natalie. A trusted friend." Leliana introduced.

"Wait. Inquisitor? You...you brought the Inquisitor here?" Natalie became flustered and immediately went to one knee. "My lord, please forgive me for not recognizing you sooner."

"Good. I go out of my way to not be recognized." Rajmael stated disinterestedly

"Oh. I...I see." Natalie slowly rose back to her feet.

"Natalie, listen." The former lay-sister urged. "There is something hidden here. Something Justinia left for me."

"Oh, really? What is it?" Natalie asked curiously.

"I don't know, but we'll find it. I am curious to find what brought us all here." Leliana gave Rajmael a brief glance. He knew instantly what she wanted. For certain people, when they have worked as closely and as intensely as they have together, when alert, verbal instructions become unnecessary. "Justinia's letter came with instructions. They were a little cryptic. 'Always remember that faith is sprung from a barren branch. That light has no fear of darkness. Above all, remember that strength resides in an open heart."

"She must be hinting at something in here." Natalie assumed. "Let's look around."

"Do they still sing the verses from the Benedictions every Friday? That canticle was always Justinia's favorite." Leliana asked.

"Oh, yes. Of course. We would never forget the traditions of our beloved Most Holy." Natalie assured.

"That is lovely to hear."

"Hey, I think I found something." The Inquisitor stated. While Leliana was chatting Natalie up. Rajmael too the time to look for those clues Leliana mentioned. Faith sprung from a barren branch? In this very corridor, there was a pastel picture in a gilded frame of a beautiful flower blooming from a dead branch. Hidden in the frame's intricately carved exterior was something out of place: a worn out, unpolished knot. Something so unremarkable, yet so out of place it had to be what he was looking for. He pressed his finger against discovering it was a button, and it released some kind of mechanism. Now he knew he was the right track. He had to keep following the clues.

"I was in the Cloister in Lothering when the Blight began. There was so much fear then." Leliana remembered. "No one knew what was going to happen, whether we would live or die. Then one morning I found a single bloom on a dead rose bush, and I thought 'Even in the midst of all this darkness, life finds a way. The Maker hasn't abandoned us. And then Aedan Cousland arrived in Lothering, and later I realized that a rose that blooms in death always has the most thorns."

The next clue they found was in the picture frame representing Hessarian's Mercy. It depicted Archon Hessarian, the first Tevinter who converted to the faith of the Maker, mercifully plunging his sword into Andraste's heart, thus saving her from the painful death of being burned alive.

"An open heart? Well, that's quite literal, and a little morbid." Leliana commented. "But Justinia always said compassion was my greatest strength. Doubt is easy, but it takes courage to trust."

"You humans really like making blood, death and execution the cornerstone of your religion." Rajmael remarked disdainfully.

Leliana couldn't help but also remember her days during the Blight. "I remember the day I first met Aedan Cousland. Some of Loghain's soldiers were foolish enough to try and apprehend him. I begged him to show them mercy, but he cut them down like they were nothing to him. Throughout the whole Blight, I saw the Hero of Ferelden kill so many people who stood in his way, using such...horrific methods. I would sometimes question why the Maker would send someone as bloodthirsty and cruel as him to save the world. Later, I realized that sometimes being brutal to your enemies is the only way to protect what you truly love."

The last clue they found hidden behind the brazier at the base of the statue of Andraste. It was a little difficult to get thanks to the fire, but Rajmael was able to get past it after activating his Shimmering Shield.

"Light has no fear of darkness." Leliana repeated as she gazed at the marble image of her Lady Redeemer. "You know, Justinia saved me, but not in the way you'd think. She refused to give up on me, refused to let my own doubts drag me down. She forced me to save myself. Where there is light there is always hope."

"What about the Hero of Ferelden? Did he leave any lasting impressions concerning that subject?" Hearing Leliana reminisce about her former comrade and her days during the Blight left Rajmael curious.

"Heh. He once said that people cannot live on hope alone, that waiting for a sign is meaningless." Leliana answered grimly. "That without the courage to take action against the darkness, and all that would threaten what you care for, hope is vain."

Rajmael turned the final hidden mechanism and they all heard some sort of gears groaning and turning within the Chantry walls. They looked at the mural of Andraste standing with beauty and grace before her enemies. The mural opened to reveal a different image of Andraste standing before the enlightened convert and the devoted disciple. And finally, the picture lifted upward and revealed a hidden chamber, and inside it was a beautiful jewelry box, its contents a mystery. This must have been the secret that was so important to Divine Justinia that she only wanted it revealed to Leliana in the event of her death.

"There was one more thing that Aedan taught me, something I will never forget." Leliana continued. "That no injustice or threat can ever be tolerated, especially a betrayal. Especially if that betrayal comes from a friends. My old mentor, Marjolaine, who I once loved so dearly, betrayed me when I learned of her secret plans to betray Orlais. I confronted her during the Blight after she sent assassins after me while I traveled with the Hero of Ferelden."

"What happened to her?" Rajmael inquired.

"After we defeated her, Aedan handed me one of Marjolain's own stilettos, and told me to kill her." Leliana's voice cracked with pain, but there was no shame in her words. "He told me that her betrayals and crimes against me were too horrid to be left unpunished, or else she would continue to plague me. Then I plunged that stiletto into the heart of the first woman I loved. And then I was finally free from her."

Leliana turned towards Natalie and n the blink of an eye, Leliana pinned Natalie against the wall. "Sorry to have kept you waiting, Inquisitor." Leliana said as she held a dagger against Natalie's throat.

"Finally! I was getting tired of beating around the bush." Rajmael sighed.

"They never sing The Benedictions here on Friday, Natalie. Something so simple, yet you got it so wrong. I wanted to believe, but you were lying from the very start." There was shame and disappointment in Leliana's voice as she pointed out her false friend's professional shortcoming. Natalie said nothing, but gave Sister Nightingale a contemptuous look. "Keep that pretty mouth of yours shut if you must dear. You've already given me everything I need to know. The prickleweed burs on your hem, talking about the sun rising through the Breach. It all points to a single place: Morelle in the Dales, Grand Cleric Victoire's bastion. She sent you, didn't she? Victoire was always an opportunist."

"Is this someone I should know, Leliana?" Rajmael inquired.

"She is an experienced Grand Cleric. She always kept her opinions to herself, and was never too outspoken. It was why she was not important enough to be at the Conclave." Leliana answered with distaste in her mouth. "And she never agreed with Justinia's actions. I suppose now, with Justinia dead, she thought she could make her move."

"What did this Grand Cleric hope to gain by sending you here?" Rajmael asked, Natalie said nothing.

"It's pointless to ask her, Inquisitor. And there is no need." Leliana revealed knowingly. "She sent Natalie here simply to see what Justinia was hiding and take it from us."

"The Inquisition and its heathen Inquisitor has turned Thedas away from the true Chant. It must be stopped." Natalie said with all the arrogant self-righteousness Rajmael knew and loathed about the Chantry.

"Stop us? You must be joking." Leliana practically laughed.

"Grand Cleric Victoire is well loved by many. The Inquisition has more enemies than you realize. The Inquisitor cannot be allowed to remain in power." Natalia denied, ignoring the knife at her neck.

Leliana scoffed. "And Victoire thinks she can ally with them? As though she was ever that important."

"We know who our enemy is and what she plans. She played herself right into our hands." Rajmael stated.

"Exactly."

"Kill me, then. I am not afraid to die for what I believe." Natalie pressed her throat against Leliana's blade, truly ready for the end, daring Leliana to do it. "At least I still know what I believe."

Leliana clenched the blade in her hand, glared at Natalie with anger in her eyes. "As you wish...my friend."

"Stop!" Rajmael ordered. "Release her, Leliana. She is not threat to us."

"But the Grand Cleric!" Leliana argued.

"She is one woman, a woman fuelled only by her small minded need to feel important and impose her own beliefs on religious doctrine. Right now people are looking to something more real than her fears." Rajmael reasoned. "And we need to represent that we are better than people like Victoir, otherwise, all efforts for changing the world are for nothing."

"No. No, I...cannot allow any risks to the Inquisition. There is too much at stake." Leliana pressed her blade against Natalie throat, ready to deliver the killing blow.

"Blessed are those who stand before the corrupt and the wicked, and do now falter..." Natalie recited.

Leliana's conscious was compromised. She had spent her life watching two different leaders accomplish their goals. Divine Justinia who tried to promote peace and equality, but never took the risk for true change, and the world suffered for it. And Aedan Cousland, a bloodthirsty warrior who brutalized, decimated, and mutilated any enemy foolish enough to stand in his way of protecting his country. His methods were severe and even barbaric, but he never compromised or failed his mission. Leliana was stuck at a crossroad and didn't know whose path to follow. Rajmael had to help her.

"Leliana, please. This isn't justice, it's just slaughter!" Rajmael begged. "If you kill her like this now, if you ignore your conscience for the sake of convenience, then you are no better than Loghain Mac Tir, Knight-Commander Meredith, or the Revered Mother who murdered my parents. If your faith means anything to you, then you must listen to it, even if everything else inside you is screaming at you to do otherwise. I know this better than you could possibly imagine. Remember what your friend told you: where there is light there is hope."

Leliana's breathing became erratic, and dagger shook in her grip. Rajmael and her conscious said one thing, while her training and experience said another. Who was she to listen to? After a moment that seemed eternal, she breathed a calming breath and removed her blade from Natalie. "The Inquisitor has spoken. Go. Tell your people that she has a choice. The Inquisition is coming."

Natalie rubbed her neck, and lowered he head in shame. Within a minute, she was gone from the Chantry.

With that matter behind her, Leliana finally approached the beautifully crafted box and the secret that Divine Justinia had hidden for her. But when she lifted the lid of the small keepsake, she found absolutely nothing.

"What? No! There's nothing in here." Leliana was dismayed.

"It's not what you were expecting, Leliana. But that doesn't mean it's nothing. Look." Rajmael instructed.

"There's a message carved in the lid." Leliana found. "The Left Hand must lay down her burden.' She...she's releasing me." A shadow of melancholy cloaked itself over the redheaded Sister. "The Divine has a long reach, but it was always her Left Hand that stretched out. A thousand lies, a thousand deaths. Always her commands, but at the cost of my conscience."

"Her message back in the Fade, when she said she failed you. She was apologizing for what she put you through by serving her." Rajmael realized.

"All this time, Justinia was carrying the fear that she was using me, just like how Marjolaine used me." Leliana sighed. "But Marjolaine's games were trifles, Justinia gambled with the fate of nations. She _needed_ me, no one else could do what I could. She knew that."

"Then you need to stop tormenting yourself over this, Leliana, and let her go." Rajmael urged. "The consequences were always Justinia's. You don't owe her anything anymore. You are no one's tool. You have a heart, and you must listen to it, or all your actions are meaningless."

Sister Nightingale breathed a ragged breath of loss, and breathed in her own confidence. "If it weren't for you, I would have killed Natalie and called it a good thing. There are things that must be said, but not here. I will meet you back at Skyhold."

**Back at the Skyhold Rookery...**

If there was thing that could certainly be said about Leliana, it's that she was incredibly proficient. By the time Rajmael arrived back at the rookery, Leliana was already handling the aftereffects of their actions in Valence. Apparently, Natalie convinced Grand Cleric Victoire of the true righteousness of the Inquisition, and convinced her to join with them. They were already receiving the donations, supplies and volunteers Victoire could rally. Rajmael also noticed the small box Justinia left for Leliana on her desk.

"I am told that Ambassador Montilyet is pleased with the...restraint you showed in Valence." An agent informed.

"Ugh. Josie's positively beside herself right now. 'Niceness before knives, Leliana. Haven't I always told you?'" Leliana mocked. "Oh, I'll never hear the end of it."

The agent made his exit, leaving the Inquisitor alone with his Spymaster.

"How have you been since we left Valence, Leliana." Rajmael asked.

"I feel...wonderful actually. Like having a terrible burden lifted from my shoulders." Leliana answered with genuine joy. "If you hadn't been there, I would have killed Natalie without a second thought. I'd have told you that I didn't have a choice, but there is always a choice. I know that I shouldn't ignore my heart, and mercy is not always a weakness. Thank you for showing me the way, even when I couldn't see it for myself."

"You've exceeded what Justinia and Marjolaine made you to be, and you never need to measure your actions to what Aedan Cousland would have done. None of them could imagine the power you now wield."

"And now I know how to use that power wisely." Leliana said confidently. "I must stay true to who I really am, before a Spymaster, Left Hand, or bard. I almost lost sight of who I truly am."

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael had finally found himself sitting down at the tavern with a warm dish of Dalish Deep Forest Comfort, his favorite meal. He gave Flissa the recipe, and she even added burrow beetle larvae to it. And to top it all off, he had a tall mug of ice-cold ale to wash it all down. He had been waiting for this for too long.

"Beg pardon, Lord Inquisitor." a monotone voice interrupted.

Rajmael groaned in frustration at having his culinary bliss interrupted before he even took his first bite. "What?!" He looked up and saw he was being interrupted by a middle aged woman with brown hair and the Chantry sunburst branded on her forehead. She was Tranquil. As a Dalish mage, Rajmael was disturbed by such an appalling thing, and his disturbance was furthered by the discovery he and Cassandra made about the truth of the Seekers. No matter what name anyone called their higher power, magic was a gift from the gods, and to sever, to strip it away and leave a hollowed out husk all for the sake of convenience and personal security was perverse, unnatural and shameful. It's one thing to kill someone because they're a threat, it's another to turn them into a slave. In this respect, and many others, the Chantry was no different than the Qunari.

"Forgive my interruption, Lord Inquisitor, but I bring a message from Lady Vivienne." The Tranquil mage said in her hollow voice.

"She couldn't come and bring it herself?"

"The Imperial Enchanter believes that such a menial task is best suited for the Tranquil."

Rajmael snorted in disgust. "Somehow that doesn't surprise me. Well, what does she want?"

"She has an urgent matter that she wishes to discuss with you."

"Well, what is it?"

"She would like to speak to you about in private." The Tranquil answered. "Enchanter Vivienne does not trust the discretion of those that are Tranquil."

"Wait just a damned minute. You mean she sent you here, interrupted my favorite meal, and wants me to go meet with her about something so important she couldn't make the time to walk barely a hundred yards to me?" Rajmael's anger was starting to surpass his hunger. "Well, since Her Majesty wishes it, I suppose I _must _go and see what she wants."

"That is what she desires, Lord Inquisitor."

Rajmael grabbed his fork and took a drink of his ale. "Well, then it's just going to have to wait until after I've finished my meal. I can't deal with elitist self-importance and bullshit on an empty stomach."

**Half an hour later...**

Rajmael made his way to the upper floor with the balcony that overlooked the Main Hall where Vivienne made her little plush living quarters. He quite was put off to find several Tranquil mages standing at attention like they were servants waiting for orders from the Imperial Enchanter.

"Darling, I'm so glad you could finally make it." Vivienne welcomed in posh, haughty voice while she overlooked the upper and lower courtyards from the balcony. "I find myself in the unfortunate and dire need to ask for your help."

Vivienne asking for his help? Him of all people? She must be grasping at straw. "Oh? With what, Vivienne?"

"There is an alchemical formula that I must complete, but I'm afraid that I have been unable to acquire to the most critical ingredient: The heart of a snowy wyvern." The Imperial Enchanter revealed. "I had arranged to obtain a heart, but the Chevaliers working with me were killed in the civil war."

That's what she wanted? Her desperation was more grave than Rajmael realized. "Have you been drinking Aqua Lucidius?! No one in their right mind would willingly go after a snowy wyvern! Normal wyverns are bad enough, and I've hunted those, but snowy wyvern are as close to dragons as those creatures can get. They've been known to devour whole hunting parties,even kill dragons, and their poison is potent enough to kill giants!"

"My dear, you're acting as though I'm asking the impossible. You yourself have decimated venerable armies and killed various high dragons." Vivienne reminded. "I wouldn't ask this of you if I thought it was impossible. I have no doubt you are equal to this monster."

She was flattering him, he knew she was working an angle. "Just what kind of alchemical concoction are you brewing to need such a rare and difficult to obtain ingredient?"

"It is a special request from a member of the Council of Heralds. I am the Imperial Enchanter, after all." Vivienne answered. "The matter is private. That is all there is to say."

"You want me to risk my life, and the life of our companions, and you won't even give me the courtesy to even know why?" Rajmael asked incredulously.

"My dear, it is hardly proper for me to blab, as it were, about the secrets of those who put their trust in my discretion." Vivienne reasoned. "After all, you wouldn't want me to divulge information sensitive to the Inquisition simply because someone else was curious."

Vivienne never helped anyone with anything unless it served her more. She was using him, and he knew it. He just didn't what for. Rajmael decided to play along, for now. "Alright, Vivienne. If you truly need this, then I'll do what I can."

"Thank you, my dear. I would be most grateful." Vivienne's thanks actually sounded sincere. "I've already given the location of the beasts lair to Cullen. And remember, darling: I must have its heart, or the potion is useless. I eagerly await your success."

As Rajmael turned to leave, he saw something on Vivienne's table that caught his eye. He stealthily swiped it without her knowing, and it appeared to be some kind of alchemical note with formulations.

_A suitable replacement for the primaetal root must be derived, as the plant went extinct during the Second Blight. Dried redmoss cut from a wandering hill has shown to have similar restorative effects. An emulsion from silverite and elfroot can counteract the fatal toxicity of redmoss._

_The solution must be heated for exactly seventy-five minutes with magical flame. Mundane flames, no matter their fuel source, have been known to burn a too low a temperature._

_The heart of the snowy wyvern must be added at the last possible moment. The compound becomes unstable when exposed to light; even if stored in perfect darkness, it becomes unviable after three days. It begins to degrade in potency in a matter of hours, and experimentation has shown that the age regression effect decreases over time from the moment it is synthesized. By the second day, the results are too subtle to detect, and by the third, it is entirely useless._

_The Tranquil staff here have the skill and experience necessary to synthesize and concoct this formula in the fastest amount of time. All I need is the heart of a snowy wyvern._

Rajmael was familiar with some of the ingredients and their purpose. His clan's healer and Keeper Deshana often used similar techniques to improve the potency of their healing potions. But this? This was something else entirely. Age regression? Some kind of fountain of youth in a bottle? Vivienne wasn't _that_ old, and he doubted she would place her faith in such an untested, and surely desperate, potion. Who could this be for?

Rajmael knew exactly who to talk to and what he was going to do. He made his way to the rookery and Sister Nightingale.

"Can I help you with something, Inquisitor?" Leliana asked curiously.

"Yes, I think you can, Leliana." Rajmael answered with a somewhat sadistic smile on his face. "I want you to tell me everything you know about our dear Enchanter Vivienne. I want to know every vivid, minute, and personal detail."

**Skyhold, a while later...**

Rajmael _hated_ hunting wyverns, snowy or otherwise. They were fast and strong, with the cunning of an alpha predator, with poison that was three times deadlier than the Black Hand. Not to mention the fact that a wyvern that wasn't in the mood to maul anyone stupid enough to hunt, which wasn't very often, would void the rancid, stinking contents of their bowels, and shit all over their hunters to throw off pursuit. But they did it! Rajmael, Solas, Iron Bull, and Varric, who somehow had experience with hunting wyverns, actually managed to hunt the damned thing down in a wet, smelly marsh, and killed it. Rajmael had the wonderfully horrific pleasure of eviscerating the oversized lizard and collected it's heart. Vivienne had better appreciate this.

Rajmael found the Imperial Enchanter still waiting on the balcony.

"What can I do for you, my dear? Is it too much to hope that you've brought me the heart of a snowy wyvern?" Vivienne asked with her back turned to him.

"It wasn't easy, but I got you the vital organ you asked for." Rajmael answered wearily and slid the jar he contained it in on to the table.

"Words can't begin to describe my gratitude, darling." Vivienne beamed as she gazed at the large heart in a jar. "I must get to work immediately. You've no idea how much this means to me, Inquisitor. Please, allow me to show you what your efforts went to when I've completed the formula."

**A short time later at the Chateau de Ghislain...**

Rajmael and Vivienne took a quick ride through the Val Royeaux countryside to an almost indecently large mansion. This cobblestones that led up to the gate were white as mountain snow, and the path leading up to the house was trailed by masterfully crafted marble statues of valiant knights and beautiful maidens. Every knight, servant and member of this house's staff bowed to Vivienne and showed her every respect as though she were the empress. So this was the house of the Vivienne's lover, the Duke de Ghislain? These Orlesian nobles certainly didn't seem to know what the meaning of "modesty" was.

Vivienne led Rajmael into the large manor with urgency in her every footstep, like she couldn't get in fast enough. The two made their way up a winding flight of stairs to the top floor. Rajmael was amazed at how polished the floors were, it was like walking on perfectly reflective mirrors.

When they arrived at the final door, there was a certain, foreign, look of hesitation on Vivienne's face. She quickly recomposed herself and entered. Rajmael had seen main hall's smaller than this room. The entire chamber was made of white stone with furniture made by the most skilled carpenters, and by the rarest of materials. At the end of the room was a large bed with a gilded frame made of sylvanwood. And in the bed, was someone resting in it.

"This should only take a moment, Inquisitor." Vivienne assured with deep sorrow in her voice.

Rajmael followed the Imperial Enchanter over to the bed and saw the man who Vivienne made this potion for. He was dressed in the finest Orlesian silks, but the man looked old enough to be someone's grandfather. His grey hair had receded off his scalp, with frail, wrinkled, paper-like skin. The man's breaths were so shallow it was difficult to tell if he was alive. No wonder this guy needed an age regression brew.

"Bastien? I'm here, my darling." Vivienne whispered gently caressed the duke's face as though it were some value treasure. She took the vial with the potion she distilled from the snowy wyvern heart and carefully put it to her lover's lips, making him drink the precious fluid. Vivienne watched over the duke as though she were expecting something to happen. But nothing happened. "That's strange. It should be working by now."

Rajmael stood in complete silence and watched as the old man in the bed gasp and take shallow, rapid breaths, as though the air refused to stay in his lungs. Then his breath became more and more shallow. His eyes opened one last time. And then, the Duke de Ghislain's last breath escaped from him in a long, pitiful sigh.

"My darling? Bastien?" Vivienne called in vain as she watched her lover expire.

Rajmael said nothing. Just stood there and watched the old man die.

"There...there is nothing here now." Vivienne stated, trying to maintain her cold demeanor. "We should go. Bastien's sister will want to give him his final rites, and his son will be here soon."

**Later, back at Skyhold...**

After returning from Val Royeaux, Vivienne instantly went back to her living space to settle Bastien's affairs. When Rajmael went to see her, she was once again facing the balcony with her back turned to him.

"You deliberately sabotaged my formula." Vivienne stated as fact. Despite her trying to maintain her neutral façade, Rajmael could feel the anger simmering in her.

"Yes. I gave you the heart of a common gurgut." Rajmael said honestly. "Did you honestly think that I would just follow what you said like some kind of pawn? The mistake was yours."

"I expected a betrayal, of course. I just didn't think you were clever enough to think of it yourself. I shall have to bear this in mind in the future." Vivienne's voice was filled with contempt, but she kept her back to the Inquisitor. "Now, do be a dear, and run along. I have important matters I need to tend to."

Rajmael felt that thing in the back of his mind scream at him, and this time, he didn't even try to ignore it. "Vivienne, would you please turn around?"

Vivienne sighed in disgust, but complied. She was met with the back of Rajmael's hand straight across her right cheek. The slap was so loud it echoed through the main hall and left a print on her delicate face and smeared her makeup. The Imperial Enchanter glared daggers at the Inquisitor as she clasped her burning cheek. No one had ever dared strike her before.

**"DON"T YOU DARE TURN YOUR BACK ON ME, YOU LYING BITCH!"** Rajmael roared, seething with rage. "I will not be disrespected by a manipulative social-climber who only made it to the political floor by spreading her legs in my own keep! Did you think I was such a fool that I didn't know what you were playing at? That I didn't know every step you made, every angle you were trying to work? Yes, I sabotaged your formula, I knew your withered lover was dying. And I also knew that he, as a leading member of the Council of Heralds was your patron in the halls of Orlesian politics, and with him dead, you don't have you don't have the crutch you need to not be bound by the same restrictions as other Circle mages. So you tried to use some desperate, last ditch attempt to save him with some untested youth potion made from a snowy-wyvern heart. Not to save his life, you're smart enough to know that such an attempt was vain. You did it to impress and endear yourself to Bastien's son, who will inherit his seat on the Council of Heralds, and Bastien's sister, who is a high ranking member of the Chantry. Well, now they get to suffer for your stupidity, as well."

"What? What do you mean?" Vivienne demanded.

"What I mean, Vivvy, is that as of right now, I have dismantled and bought out more than half of the de Ghislain's family businesses have been bought off and all there debts called in, which will probably cripple them for the next three generations. And I've officially had Bastien's sister disgraced and demoted from her position in the Chantry. And I've made sure that they both know it's because you made the mistake of crossing the Inquisitor. So if I were you, I wouldn't be expecting a card from them this Wintersend."

If looks could kill, Rajmael would be dead, judging from that dirty look Vivienne was glaring at him. At least it would if Rajmael didn't think it was so funny.

"Do you really think this will harm me, Inquisitor? I'll recover from this setback." Vivienne assured seethingly.

"Maybe, but you'll never recreate the Circle the way you want it at this rate. Not at your age." Rajmael suddenly remembered Vivienne's greatest fear that he learned in the Fade. "Let me make this perfectly clear, Vivvy. You. Are. Irrelevant! The Circle of Magi you used as a crutch to live the high life while your fellows suffered is no more. And you've made no friends amongst the rebel mages. So, if you ever want to have any kind of standing and accomplishment that will mean anything it will be by serving the Inquisition. So let's set the record straight: I am the Inquisitor. You are my subordinate. And as long as you're my subordinate, you will follow orders. Now, who leads this Inquisition?"

Vivienne remained silent, only giving him that hateful glare, wrinkling her face.

"Vivvy, unless you want to be kicked to curb and be left behind in a world with no Circle where you have no rank, you'd better fucking answer me." Rajmael warned with a twisted smile on his face. "Now, who leads this Inquisition?"

"You do." Vivienne said grudgingly.

"And who is my subordinate?"

"...I am." Vivienne's voice cracked with hate.

"See! You can be a good girl when you really try!" Rajmael praised her as though he were praising a pet dog. "You're the subordinate of a heathen, apostate, Dalish elf. And just so you know: unlike you, I didn't get to where I am now by being someone else's bitch. Now you know what Dirthara-ma benal-enaras, tel na emahl'a vhenan means. You have learned humility, and I have crushed your heart. Now, do be a dear, and run along. I happen to enjoy the view here."

"...Well played, Inquisitor." Vivienne seethed and disappeared from Rajmael's sight.

Rajmael listened as Vivienne slowly walked away, with hate and resentment in every footstep. Rajmael knew Vivienne would recover from this, even without the Duke de Ghislain's family backing her up, she had enough political favors and connections to come back. But she would never have the same influence she once had, nor would she be able to manipulate the mage into her bidding. For too long Vivienne had seen Rajmael's sympathies and beliefs as weakness and foolishness, and therefore he could be easily manipulated to suit her ambitions. But that was far from the truth. Rajmael was no one's stepping stone, he would not be deceived or manipulated to serve something he didn't believe in. He warned he when they first arrived at Skyhold, but she ignored him. Vivienne needed to be taught some respect. She would forever hate him, and would now doubt plan revenge on him, but she would now know to respect his abilities, and know he was not be underestimated.

Rajmael suddenly felt a wave of hunger pass through his gut, but it would be easily satisfied. Tonight, he would feast on Vivienne's hopes and dreams.

**Language Codex:**

**Dirthara-ma benal-enaras, tel na emahl'a**** vhenan: **Elven curse, roughly translated, _May you learn humility, and may it crush your heart._

**Author's Note:**

**Sorry for the lack of updates this month. It's been really, busy, busy, busy on the home front.**

**Not to mention the new Trespasser DLC, which is freaking awesome!**

**I will continue to try and post new chapters as often as possible.**

**So please, continue to read, review and enjoy.**

**Sincerely,**

**Powerslammer.**


	27. Breaking The Jaws: Part I

**Breaking the Jaws: Part I**

The Inquisitor and Cassandra stood at the War Table with his Advisors overlooking the various operations that their agents were carrying out. High risk missions, clandestine operations, political favors, and the gathering of resources was all being played out on this large, ancient table. Leliana's agents were working alongside the infamous former Antivan Crow Zevran Arianai to infiltrate and assassinate Venatori supporters in the Free Marches. Cullen was coordinating efforts with Guard-Captain Aveline to safely remove all traces of red lyrium from Kirkwall with the aide of Varric's contacts in the Merchant's Guild. And Josephine was cementing several trade agreements with Duke Cyril de Montfort, Arl Gallagher Wulf of the Western Hills, and the newly established Council of Wycome, of which Rajmael's Keeper was a member.

In all the years Rajmael spent as Keeper Deshana's apprentice, he never even dreamed that he would have a say in the outcome of national conflicts or decide the fate of thousands of people. Nor did he ever imagine that his own Keeper, or any elf for that matter, would ever be considered an equal amongst humans, let alone leading an originally human dominate city-state with the Harhen of an Alienage. But here they both were, leading their people in a time of change, and hopefully for the better. The only shame was the fact that it took so many centuries to make it to this point, and that was only because the world was in a state of chaos. All they could do now was try to lead the best as they could and try to keep what they had gained.

"Any other piece of immediate concern?" Rajmael asked after he finished overlooking the latest operations.

"There is one more item of importance, Inquisitor." Josephine answered. "We've received word from Professor Bram Kenric from the University of Orlais, a scholar that the Inquisition has been backing for ancient discoveries, believes he has made an important discovery in the Frostback Basin, but now his research is being interrupted by hostile Avvar tribesman. He is requesting that the Inquisitor"

"Who?" Rajmael asked incredulously.

"Professor Bram Kenric, a brilliant and controversial scholar of some fame, or infamy, depending on who you ask." Josephine answered eagerly. "When the Inquisition called for scholars to dig up ancient sites to keep any important artifacts away from Corypheus, he was amongst the first to join with us."

"Surely we can just send a proper amount of soldiers to guard this expedition." Cullen opposed disinterestedly. "With all that we have to deal with right now, I don't think that it's wise for the Inquisitor to be dragged off on an archaeological dig."

"Don't be so quick to dismiss this, Cullen." Leliana remarked. "If the Inquisitor is shown taking a personal interest in scholarly pursuits, then we may receive more favors, experts and grants from the University of Orlais and other patrons of that field."

"I assure you, the importance of this find may well be worth a more personal oversight. Look at this." Josephine placed a carefully sealed box on the War Table. Her delicate hands unsealed the lid and lifted an ancient but masterfully made helmet. It was a simple yet intricate design that covered the whole head but with a T-shaped slit in the front for the face and eyes. The helmet had inlays that looked like scales all over and a line of spiked studs that went down the middle of it. The most intricate part was the dragon face that rested on the brow and the sides of the part covering the face were made to look like swooping wings. "According to Professor Kenric, this helmet belonged to Inquisitor Ameridan."

Cassandra's eyes went wide with surprise and disbelief. "_The_ Inquisitor Ameridan? The last Inquisitor who brought the Old Inquisition into the Chantry? The man who all but founded the Templar Order and the Circles of Magi?"

"According to legend, that man slew legions of dragons and maleficarum in the dawn of the first age after the downfall of the Imperium and the death of Andraste. Back when the Chantry was still just in its infancy." Leliana recalled with awe.

"And he disappeared chasing a dragon into the west just after Kordillius Drakon finished establishing the Chantry and the Orlesian Empire." Cullen stated, starting to believe. "You mean to say that this Professor Kenric has found Ameridan's final resting place? Such a discovery would be incredible."

"And it is because of that importance Professor Kenric wants the Inquisitor to be personally involved with this expedition." Josephine affirmed. "The current Inquisitor finding the resting place of the last Inquisitor would attract support from all over Southern Thedas. But it cannot be done if these hostile Avvars continue to hinder the search."

While his advisors were talking about the importance of this Inquisitor Ameridan, Inquisitor Rajmael's attention was fixed solely on that helmet. He carefully picked it up and felt it in his hands. There was something...out of place with his helmet. There was an aura that faintly emanated from the very surface of the metal that only Rajmael's elven eyes could see. It wasn't enchanted, but it was forged with magic. A technique that wasn't used by human smiths or mages of that era.

Rajmael looked inside the helmet and noticed some rust and dirt caked inside. Not surprising considering how old it was. He reached into his coat and pulled out the brush he always used to uncover dirt from ancient artifacts when his clan discovered elven ruins back when he was Deshana's apprentice. He hadn't used it in so long, he almost forgot about it, but this unshakeable out of place feeling that he had about this helmet reminded him of its use. Rajmael carefully brushed the inside of the ancient helmet and broke away all the dirt, grim and rust that had accumulated and found something that was completely out of place.

"This was Inquisitor Ameridan's personal helmet? Rajmael inquired curiously.

"Yes. Professor Kenric says that there's no room for doubt; Ameridan did wear this on his final hunt." Josephine assured.

"And all the historical images and archives depict Ameridan wearing this helmet. It's part of the reason why so many storytellers and poets make varying accounts of what he looked like." Cassandra added.

"You all say that Ameridan was an important Andrastian figure, right?" Rajmael asked.

"Yes, of course." Cullen confirmed.

"Without him, the Original Inquisition would never have been brought into the Chantry, and the Chantry as we know it would never have existed." Leliana added.

"Bah. And a lot of good that's been so far." Rajmael scoffed disinterestedly. "What I want to know is why such an important Chantry figure was wearing a Dalish helmet."

"What?" Cassandra asked with shock.

Rajmael turned the helmet over and revealed a strange maker's mark inside. The inscription was obviously elven in origin, depicting an anvil with a plume of flame dancing on it. How could such an object belonging to a devout Andrastian have such a mark?

"This helmet was forged in the Dales, in the Temple of June, and forged by the hand of the temple's High Keeper." Rajmael stated as fact. "Only objects made by the hands of the High Priest of June were allowed to bear this mark. And the magic I sense on this helmet is unmistakably elven. Neither the Chantry or the early human kingdoms had access to such magical techniques; only the elves had such knowledge. This helmet was made in Halamshiral, when my people ruled the Dales."

"Incredible!" Josephine exclaimed. "Perhaps there is more to this discovery than just finding where Ameridan's resting place is."

Rajmael stared at the helmet intently. Somehow this Inquisitor Ameridan had some sort of connection with his people. For some reason, the High Priests of the temples in Halamshiral felt Ameridan was worthy to bear such a masterfully crafted item, and as a Dalish elf, and the current Inquisitor, Rajmael needed to find out what that connection was.

"Cassandra. Gather our companions, and send Scout Harding ahead to meet with Professor Kenric. We're going to the Frostback Basin."

**The Inquisition Camp in the Frostback Basin...**

Only the foolish and suicidal try to travel the full length of the Frostback Mountains. The powerful winds, merciless snows, impossible passes, and the sheer cliffs made it impossible for anyone to get through, save for some vital paths that made traveling between Ferelden and Orlais possible. So to get to the Basin, Rajmael and his companions had go around the whole length of Frostbacks.

But they finally made it, and many of them were quite taken by the natural beauty of the Basin. The trees were ancient and powerful, with rolling hills and gentle rivers, and the whole region was thick with game. Rajmael saw some trout swimming in a stream that were larger than cats. They found the Inquisition outpost where Scout Harding and Professor Kenric were waiting for them. Rajmael knew at this point whenever he saw the ginger dwarven scout there was something dangerous and foreboding going on. Standing next to Scout Harding was a man wearing the uniform and hat of an Inquisition Scholar. The man was in his late thirties to early forties with a dark stubble growing on his chin. The look on his face was one half nervous the other half excited.

"Glad to see you here, Inquisitor. Welcome to Frostback Basin." Scout Harding greeted in her usual cheery manner. "Allow me to introduce Professor Bram Kenric, he's the reason why we're out here."

"Oh, it's such an honor to finally meet you, Your Worship." The Professor bowed in respect. His accent pegged him as an obvious native of Starkhavn. "I never imagined that I'd be working on the account of the Inquisition, and now here I am, meeting and seeking both the last and the current Inquisitors at once. It's like two dreams coming true at once!"

"Ahem. You're doing that thing again, Professor." Harding reminded.

"Oh, right. Sorry. It's just all so exciting." The Professor confessed. "You know, I'm actually surprised to discover that you are, in fact, a Dalish elf. Many of my colleagues back in the University and my patrons in the court refuse to broach the subject, let alone accept it."

A dangerous look passed through the Inquisitor's eyes. "Are you and I going to have a problem, Professor?"

"Oh, no. Not at all. I'm more interested in the truth, not the inconvenience of it placed by the petty prejudices of others." Professor Kenric explained.

"Then, please, get to the point of why I'm here on the ass end of the Frostbacks in the middle of a war." Rajmael urged.

"Uh, I have reason to believe that the final resting place of Inquisitor Ameridan is somewhere here in the Basin." Kenric finally stated. "That helmet I sent you not only proves it. Now we just need to be able to gather the clues that remain here and find it."

"What can you tell me about Inquisitor Ameridan?" Rajmael asked curiously.

"Well, the accounts vary between records that are missing or have been lost, and much of it is muddled with romantic exaggerations from bards and poets." Kenric answered with uncertainty.

That was certainly a surprise. "So you mean to tell me that you know nothing?"

"No, not nothing. Not at all, Your Worship." Kenric assured. "Of the man's true past, little can be said on account of destroyed records and misinformation. What is known is the impact his actions had. After he brought the Inquisition into the Chantry, thus making the Templar Order and the Circle of Magi, he journeyed westward chasing after a dragon with his closest companions and was never heard from again. That is when the stories start differing. You've got some that say Ameridan was a reckless embarrassment to the court who was banished by Emperor Kordillius, others that say he was a thrill-seeker that was bored with this newfound peace and gallivanted for this dragon in one last great hunt. And then there are some that state that Ameridan was sent after the dragon by the emperor."

"And you're here to discover the truth of the matter?"

"Exactly!" Kenric answered vigorously. "Finding Ameridan's final resting place could shed so much light on the man, and the world will finally realize importance he played in history. Without him, there would have been no Templar Order or Circles, and the Chantry we know might never have existed. Perhaps even the Orlesian might not have existed without him."

"Not to mention we'd be finding the arms and armor of the Last Inquisitor, which would probably be really, really powerful considering the things he faced back in his day." Scout Harding added.

"So far, all you've given me is reasons why I should hate Ameridan's guts. Everything he accomplished is what set the Chantry on the path of destruction we're now facing, and Orlais has committed countless crimes against many nations in trying to fulfill Kordillius' tyrannical dream of one empire ruling the world. Not to mention the crimes both the Chantry and Orlais have committed against my people." Rajmael stated with disgust in his voice. "But as the current Inquisitor, and a Dalish elf, it's my sworn duty to discover the truth. I'll find out what happened to Inquisitor Ameridan. Anything he may have buried with him will be better off with us than waiting for some treasure hunter to find, or the Venatori to plunder. What's this I've heard about the Avvar?"

"That's the other reason I've called you down here, Inquisitor." Kenric said despondently.

"The Avvar have completely halted all our activities here in the Basin." Harding informed. "They've been attacking our scholars at the dig site and have been attacking any Inquisition caravan that comes through here. It looks like they're looking for a fight with you. Surprise, surprise. They're calling themselves the Jaws of Hakkon."

"The Jaws of Hakkon?" Rajmael could hardly believe they were called that.

"They're not the only Avvar tribe here, though." Harding continue. "Another tribe from a local settlement called Stone-Bear Hold have paid us a visit, it was actually quite civil, by Avvar standards anyway. Their chieftain, Svarrah Sun-Hair, wanted us to know that her people are not involved with the Hakkonites, and they want no quarrel with us."

"If these Avvar are friendly, then maybe we should try talking to them first?" Varric suggested. "They know this place better than we do, and maybe they can help us find Ameridan's grave."

"What's the next step in finding Ameridan's grave, Professor?" Vivienne asked.

"I've traced Ameridan's movements here to an island in the middle of the nearby lake." Kenric answered. "Unfortunately, neither myself nor your forces bothered to bring a boat through the mountains. You'll have to ask one of the locals to aid you."

"Well, first you're going to need to deal with those Jaws of Hakkon jerks." Harding reminded. "They're camped out all over this region and they're overwhelming our forces that try to set up a base camp by the river. You'll need to go help our men and establish a supply line along that river if we're going to hold a presence here. They have our men pinned down at the river right now. I don't know how much longer they're going to last."

"Don't worry. We're good at kicking people's asses and showing them who's boss. Right, Boss?" Iron Bull bragged.

"I'll go save our people first, then I'll go and meet with this Svarrah Sun-Hair at the Avvar stronghold." Rajmael promised. "Perhaps they can assist us against these Jaws of Hakkon and help us find out what happened to Ameridan."

**~XoXoXo~**

The Inquisitor and his company left the Inquisition outpost to go fulfil their goals. At first, everyone was taken in by the natural beauty of the Basin. With it's gentle streams and rivers, tall trees and green hills it seemed like the ideal place for any people to want to settle in. That is until they realized that this place was one giant feeding station for all the local wildlife. Gurguts larger than cattle, giant spiders, and even lurkers a tall as people. This place was so dangerous it seemed that the Avvar were the only people hardy, or insane enough to call this place their home. Who else would actually _choose_ to live here?

"You didn't seem to pleased about some of the accomplishments of your predecessor, Inquisitor." Solas pointed out.

"Yes, I noticed that, too." Vivienne added. "I would think that you'd be honored to perform such a service to such an honored figure, or at least respect the contributions your predecessor made to the world."

"Ameridan is a legend and a hero. Why such disregard for him?" Cassandra inquired.

"You people really need to stop taking history at face value and broaden your way of thinking." Rajmael responded vehemently. "To you Ameridan was a hero, the great Inquisitor who helped Emperor Kordillius I form the Orlesian Empire and brought the might of the Original Inquisition into the Chantry, and that's where your idiocy kicks in. By creating the Templar Order and the Circles of Magi, Ameridan gave a corruptible institution all the power it needed to abuse its authority and inflict countless abuses and crimes against countless people in the name of religious righteousness. And its because of this corruption the world is in the state it's in now."

"Oh, dear Inquisitor, are you ever going to let go of what happened to your people all those centuries ago?" Vivienne said haughtily.

"If I was a weak-willed conformist, Vivienne, I'd be a very poor Dalish elf." Rajmael countered. "But maybe you're right. Being burned alive by the order of a Chantry priest and watching my parents die probably just made me bitter and biased. Then again, I don't expect you know what hardship truly is."

Iron Bull knew that there was some heavy tension between the Boss and Iron Lady after that shit she pulled with him. He needed to defuse the situation before it led to a fatality. "So, uh, Boss, you know anything about these Avvar? Aside from the assholes who attacked us in the Fallow Mire, and that Chieftain who threw goats at the castle?"

Rajmael snorted in disgust for Vivienne, but took his attention away from the subject. "The Avvar are a simplicity wrapped up an enigma. They can be your best friends or your worst enemy. There's a reason why people avoid them. My people are no exception to that rule."

"Have your people ever encountered the Avvar before?" Dorian inquired.

"Not my clan, but all the Dalish know the story of when the Avvar attacked a certain tribe, and the repercussions that followed." Rajmael answered grimly. "Of how Keeper Marethari took up the mantle of leadership for Clan Sabrae."

"Wait. Marethari? Daisy's teacher?" Varric interrupted. "I knew her! Back before...before things went bad for her clan." The dwarven merchant's face became somber at the memory of when Hawke and Merrill were forced to kill Marethari when she was possessed by a powerful demon.

"Yes. Marethari Talas' story started off happy enough." Rajmael continued. "She was set to take up leadership from her Keeper thanks to her wisdom and powerful magic, and she had just married her clan's second, her childhood sweetheart. It seemed like Marethari's whole world was her oyster. Then the Avvar came." The Inquisitor's face twisted into a scowl. "Winter was coming, and the Keeper moved his clan away from their usual camping ground, and as they were moving through the Frostbacks a clan of Avvar warriors attacked the Sabrae Clan. Marethari's Keeper was gravely injured, and many of her clanmates were killed, including Marethari's husband."

"Well...shit." Varric exclaimed. "What...what happened after that?"

"The Keeper died of his wounds, and many of members of the clan were too injured to journey on." Rajmael continued, his voice was grim and unforgiving. "So, Marethari traveled southward alone to the Korcari Wilds, seeking some ancient power to exact vengeance for her clan and dead husband. Some say she invoked ancient spirits of vengeance, and others claim she sought out ancient witch who lived in the swamp with access to forbidden magic. But whatever it was she was seeking, Marethari found it and got her revenge. And thus, by blood and by tragedy, Marethari inherited the mantle of Keeper of Clan Sabrae, and every clan knew that her wisdom and power was to be reckoned with."

"But what happened to the Avvar? How did Marethari get her revenge?" Varric inquired.

"The very trees of the Frostback Mountain came to life and destroyed the entire Avvar tribe. Their bodies were found ripped apart, men, women and children, all hanging from the trees, like treats for the birds. Those that survived claimed that it was the wrath of Korth Mountain-Father. But everyone, Avvar and Dalish alike, knew that they all died because of whatever power Marethari called upon to avenge her kin."

Rajmael's voice was colder than the mountain streams, and every word seemed to pass through his companions like a slow knife. Rajmael could see how deeply his tale effected the likes of Sera and Iron Bull, both of them easily frightened by things beyond their understanding. Sera had this horrified look plastered on her face as though she just woke up from a nightmare, and Iron Bull was as stiff as board, his single eye twitching anxiously.

"Damn, Inquisitor! You ought to tell stories more often!" Varric announced.

"That strangely sounds like the bedtime stories my mother used to tell me before she would get into drunken arguments with my father." Dorian commented with frightened nostalgia.

"The screams, terror, anger and sadness echo in the minds of all who hear this tale." Cole whispered. "Every Dalish elf heard this tale at the Arlathvhen. You and Nethras were so scared that Evanura made you scream when she came out of nowhere. You deny that you wet yourself."

"Thanks for sharing that, Cole." Rajmael said blushing with embarrassment.

"Are you saying that these Avvar are not to be trusted?" Cassandra voiced in.

"What I'm saying is that we must be cautious in dealing with them." Rajmael affirmed. "These are people who live solely for survival and their own rugged sense of honor. We cannot expect them to adhere to the same sense of honor and values we have."

"Well, it looks like we're going to have to deal with them very soon. Look!" Solas pointed down the way and they all saw the Inquisition's forces engaging an overwhelming assault from a vast number of savagely armed an armored Avvar warriors.

"Aw, crap, those must be the Hakkonites. Dorian, Sera, give us some cover fire. Cole, Varric, take out their flanks. Solas and Blackwall, I want you to defend our troops. Everyone else, on me!" Rajmael ordered. They all drew their weapons and charged down hill towards the river where their men were fighting.

The Inquisition forces were trying to hold a recently made encampment along the river. If it wasn't for the spiked barricades made around the camp, the Inquisition forces would have been overrun by now, but they gave as good as they got. These Avvar warriors were all covered completely in white war paint over their armor with streaks of black over it. And all of them had fearsome designs over their mouths to look like the jaws of some fearsome beast. But the most fearsome thing about these each of them, was their weapons; it was though they were made of some kind of enchanted ice. What kind of magic was this?

"It's the Inquisitor!" One of the Avvar warriors cried.

"Death to the Inquisitor and his Hold! For Hakkon's glory!" Another bellowed. Then all the Avvar broke off their attacks and immediately charged at the Inquisitor.

Suddenly, Rajmael had over a dozen pissed off Avvar tribesman coming down on him. What had he done to make them so mad? The archers shot arrows from bows made of pure ice at him. The arrows glanced off his Shimmering Shield like drops of rain, but he still felt them. They left a searing cold pain behind on his skin as they glided off, right through his Shimmering Shield. What kind of magic did these Avvar possess? Their magic was solely ice-based, but it wasn't trained or used as an extension of themselves, like it was with Enchanter Vivienne and other Circle mages. It was as though they were channeling the natural forces of winter through them in all its fury and destruction.

Vivienne laid out several ice glyphs before the Avvarian mages before they could take a step further. She would show these filthy barbarian apostates what true magic was. The spellbinders stepped on the glyph, her ice spell would shatter them like glass. But it never happened, the apostates simply walked over her glyphs like they were merely grass. The spellbinders chanted in some unknown tongue and conjured a flying block of ice back at the Imperial Enchanter with the force and weight of anvil. How dare they!? The mana in her veins ignited like cold fire as she conjured a complex glyph between her hands and launched a furious storm of icicles the size of spears at the insolent apostates, impaling them like meat on shish kebab. She would teach these heathen barbarians proper respect.

It took all the willpower Varric had not to spontaneously piss in his pants right now. It wasn't having four savage Avvar dressed painted like white skeletons came screaming at him with swords made of ice. It was having four screaming Avvar armed with swords made of ice coming at him _after_ he lodged several arrows into their chests! He pressed Bianca's buttstock against his shoulder and launched an explosive bolt into each of their heads just before they reached him. Their heads exploded like ripe melons and covered him in their brain matter. He was going to need a shower when this was over.

"Eat some of this, you pissers! Piping hot!" Sera laughed manically. Out of tactical awareness or the panic of battle, the Red Jenny thief smashed a Fire Flask on her leather jerkin, engulfing herself in flames and setting her arrows on fire, which gave her an edge over the ice-wielding savages. She'd have to restock on her supply of Fire Flasks for the rest of however long they'd be in the ass end of the Frostbacks.

From what Dorian could see, Sera had the right idea. These Avvar seemed to be using some kind of ice-based enchantments and spells, the logical thing to use was fire. Balls of spat from the crystal in Dorians staff and rained down on the barbarian warriors. But their shields withstood the burning assault, he needed to step his attacks up a notch. One of the warriors got close enough to swing his sword at Dorian's head. Dorian ducked sideways and slammed his hand into the man's face, leaving a searing print behind on his flesh. The man staggered back screaming in pain, the flesh of his face searing and expanding. His whole body swelled like a malignant pustule until he blew up in an explosion of entropic magic, fire, and blood and guts that killed the other attacking Avvar. Dorian smiled smugly at his grisly work.

Anger burning like dried ice buried beneath layers of strict piety. These men were like ice, feeling nothing but rage and murder. Why were they so angry? Cole could sense several hunters circling around him. They thought he didn't know where they are. They were wrong. One lunged at him from behind with daggers, Cole steped to the side and slashed the man's jugular with his own before disappearing in a puff of smoke. Where's he go? A dagger flew like an arrow through the air and found its way into the neck of the Avvar that was hiding in the bushes. The final one saw his comrades' dead bodies slump to the ground, blood pulsing out of them in thick ropes, and decided to regroup with the other, but the instant he turned around he didn't find his comrades, only the blade of Cole's remaining dagger shoved through his mouth and out the backside of his head.

These Avvar were strong, a few of them were bigger than some Qunari he knew. Bull was actually impressed with how determined these assholes were. But as strong and vicious as they were, they lacked discipline. There was no coordination in their attacks; they all just wanted to kill something no matter what. It was like fighting against the Tal-Vashoth. This would be easy. Three massive Avvar warriors swinging giant mauls charged him down, but The Bull charged right back at them even harder. laughing his musclebound ass off. He jammed the pommel of his battle axe right into the first one's nose, completely smashing his face down his throat. The second one charged in on the Bull's blindside, but he was stupid enough to bellow like an idiot instead of going in quietly. Iron Bull easily ducked beneath the savage strike and chopped off both his legs from underneath him. The last one attacked the giant Qunari head on, Iron Bull simply evaded then broke the man's neck in his hands like a dried twig. All too easy.

Blackwall held his shield above his head to deflect a volley of incoming arrows. They stuck to his shield's face like nails to a board, and were as cold a winter. He had to take out those archers before they felled any more soldiers. He ran at the archers with a Shield Charge, doing his best to protect his vital spots. These archers had absolutely no fear, they didn't bother changing their position when he got so close to them. Admirable but mistaken, it just made them stationary targets. But Blackwall had to admit, they were some damned good archers. Even at this range, they were able to rapidly fire those arrows and even get a few past his shield. But Blackwall's heavy plate armor held strong, he could feel the intense cold of the enchanted arrows stuck in his cuirass, but they did little else to harm him. And now they were out of arrows. Blackwall reared back his mace and swung it at the damned hostiles with savage fervor. The weight and power of his mace easily broke their necks and shattered their skulls. Within seconds their blood and bits of skull and brain matter stained the ground and Blackwall's armor.

Solas cast a protective barrier over the Inquisition soldiers, this should shield them from the Avvar's magic while they were attacking the others. Solas had never seen humans use such spells, not in this Age at least. A group of Avvar ran to attack the already weakened Inquisition soldiers left behind on the field. Solas manipulated the Veil to create a small Rift that pulled the Avvar away from the Inquisition soldiers and subsequently ripped them apart in a torrent of Fade magic, blood, and shredded limbs. Several more charged his way with thick tower shields and savage swords. The elven apostate summoned a large jagged boulder from the other side of the Veil that flew out the Avvar, and shredded through their shields and flesh like they were paper.

Cassandra had heard of the Avvar from Leliana, and from what she saw here, Leliana did not exaggerate. These warriors were trained not by any military, but by the harsh intensities of the Frostback Mountains. But they were far from perfect. They were highly skilled raiders used to blitz tactics, but they obviously lacked any real experience in what true battle was. The Seeker charged down three Avvar, two armed with battle axes, one with daggers, and the last one with a longsword. The first lunged at her with both his daggers, she stopped him dead in his tracks with a shield bash in to the face, and then her sword through his heart. The second attack came from one of the warriors with an axe. She blocked the axehead with her shield then chopped the shaft in half before opening the man's throat. The final one actually tried to fight her one on one with swords. It was a courageous but pitiable attempt. Cassandra disarmed him in two moves and beheaded him in the third.

Rajmael held Enasalin firmly in his grip, the sylvanwood blade burning with veilfire and his Shimmering Shield engulfing his whole being. There were five of them, why did he always end up fighting the most opponents? One was a mage, two were armed with battle axes, an archer, and a swordsman with a towershield. Rajmael charged the warrior with the towershield with a precise, powerful lunge attack. The veilfire on the blade pierced through the shield, and the man himself, like a knife through butter. With the man still impaled on his sword, Rajmael charged his magic through the blade and a bolt of lightning flew out of it and struck the nearby archer in the face, making his head explode.

Now wasn't the time to let up, not with that Avvar shaman chanting some kind of spell. The Inquisitor ripped his sword out of the corpse that was stuck on it and threw an arc of veilfire from the blade at the shaman, slicing his upper head from his lower jaw, like splitting a melon in half. Without any magic to give them any protection or an edge, the remaining warriors with their battle axes made their move, but Rajmael wasn't going to let them make it. Before the first one even had a chance to swing his axe, Rajmael dashed past him in a shimmering blur with his sword ready. The Avvar screamed in horrid agony as his axe flew through the air...with his severed hands still gripping it. The warrior fell to his knees staring at the stumps where his hands used to be, and watched the thick ropes of blood spurt out of the severed arteries before passing out and dying of blood loss.

The last warrior snarled and gnashed his teeth at the Inquisitor while he held his axe ready to chop down the formidable elf. Rajmael stared down his larger opponent with contempt in his eyes, then sheathed his sword and dared the axe-wielding human to come at him. The Inquisitor would kill this brute with his bare hands. The Avvar bellowed wildly and rushed forward, swinging his giant axe wildly at the Inquisitor. The elf did nothing, made no move or attack; he just stood there. The Avvar's axe was going to split him in half. But the axe never made contact with the Inquisitor. It shattered the instant it hit his Shimmering Shield like it was as brittle as glass. Rajmael spun on his heel and kicked the Avvar warrior with enough force to shame a mule, and brought his opponent to his knees. The final sound that came from the Avvar was not a warcry of defiance, but of his own neck breaking in the Inquisitor's hands.

Rajmael looked to rest of the field and saw that his companions had handled the remaining Avvar. The Inquisition soldiers were safe. Rajmael heard terrible hacking and desperate gasps for breaths, the Avvar he impaled was still alive, but not for long with all the blood that was pouring out of that wound. Even with death about to take him, the warrior still tried to grab his sword and fight on. Rajmael kicked the sword away and kneeled over the dying barbarian.

"Why did you attack us? What does your tribe have against the Inquisition?" Rajmael asked the dying man.

The Avvar hatefully spat his own blood at the Inquisitor. "The Inquisition will not be able stop the Jaws of Hakkon again! Hakkon's fury will destroy the Lowlands...your time is coming to an end..." The man's last escaped his lips as the last of his blood trickled out of his body, and died.

"Again? What did he mean again? Have these Jaws of Hakkon encountered the Inquisition before?" Cassandra asked.

"And what did any of this have to do with Hakkon?" Dorian wondered.

"It would seem that these heathens think they are serving the will of one of their fairytale gods." Vivienne scoffed.

"Buncha creepy ice-pissers. With their creepy paintjobs and creepy magic." Sera shuddered.

Varric couldn't help but laugh. "Even on the ass end of nowhere, we find a bunch of crazies who want to kill us."

"Religious fanatics suck ass no matter where you go." Rajmael spat.

"Thanks for the save, Lord Inquisitor. Lieutenant Farrow reporting, Ser." An elven Inquisition officer saluted.

"Report, Lieutenant."

"Ser, we came here to establish several base camps along the Varsdotten River so that we could better move supplies to our forces here." Lieutenant Farrow explained. "We had just started setting up this last camp when the Avvar attacked. I guess they were waiting to catch us off guard. We hadn't set up any defenses at this site and their numbers were just too much, they overwhelmed us."

"Can you reestablish this and the other campsites?"

"Aye, ser." Farrow answered. "With the Avvar retreating and more reinforcements arriving, I think we can finish what we came here to do."

"Finish establishing this camp and get enough of our forces to man the other sites. I want this river secured from anymore raids." Rajmael ordered. "And there's one more thing I want you to do, Lieutenant Farrow. The rest of us will see about getting to that island in Cloudclap Lake."

**~XoXoXo~**

The rivers that flowed through the Basin, and all the snow that melted in the Mountains, all flowed and converged in this massive body of water named Cloudclap Lake. It was like a small ocean in locked in the middle of land. Rajmael could see how the lake got its name. There was a mist as thick as castle walls floating over the surface lake's mirror like surface. It was actually quite eerie. There was a fisherman's hut with docked boats nearby, perhaps they could get across from here.

As they approached the hut, Rajmael noticed a group Avvar already gathered there. Several were Hakkonites, judging from their black and white war paint and angry dispositions, and they were all armed. The other one wore no war paint, just simple furs and leathers, and obviously not a Hakkonite. And it didn't look like they were having a friendly conversation.

"What's this? Are the fishers of Stone-Bear Hold too stingy to share a meal with friends?" On of the Hakkonites demanded.

"Can the Jaws of Hakkon not catch their own fish, or are those jaws of yours only good for flapping?" The fisherman mocked.

"Chief Sun-Hair won't always be in charge, and your friendship with Auger Siobahn and Bear-Hold won't always protect you." The Hakkonite sneered. "When the Jaws of Hakkon rule, you'll wish you'd been more generous."

"And yet all I feel is hot air." The fisherman laughed. "You aiming to do something, other than cry?"

"You're going to...!" The Hakkonites finally noticed the outsiders watching their little squabble. "Inquisition! Death to their Hold, for Hakkon's glory!"

The three of them drew their ice-blades and charged the Inquisitor. Rajmael dashed past them in flash like lightning. He moved so fast none of them saw his sylvanwood sword move. Rajmael flicked the blood of his sword and sheathed it. Blood sprayed out of the Hakkonites' body like a wave of crimson as they fell to the ground dead.

"Lady of The Skies! What do they teach you Lowland elves!?" The fisherman said with wide-eyed shock. "I've no quarrel with you, Inquisition. Those Hakkonite fools trouble enough. If you didn't kill them, someone from my clan would have. Name's Arvid Rolfsen. What can I do for you?"

In all honesty, Rajmael had not expected any Avvar to be friendly. "Is this your place, Arvid?"

"This is my house and these are my boats. Been fishing here since I was knee-high to my pap." The fisherman answered amiably.

"I need to get to the Island in the middle of the lake. I was hoping to borrow one of your boats."

Arvid's eyes went wide with shock, even fear. "The Island of The Lady?"

"The what?"

"I'm sorry, but no. No offense, elf, but you are not of the Hold. I cannot send you over to that Island and risk you angering the spirits that dwell there. That's trouble my clan doesn't need." Arvid explained.

"Such an ignorant superstition." Vivienne scoffed. "I doubt these people will be of much help."

"It is not ignorant to be wary of present dangers, especially when your own is at risk, Enchanter." Solas countered.

"Is there any way you can help us?" Cassandra asked.

"Speak with my Thane, Svarrah Sun-Hair. If she grants you her blessing you can sail to Korth's rocky heart, if that's what you desire." Arvid promised. "She's meeting with Siobahn Skin-Changer of Bear-Hold, our kin to the north, and Gurd Harofsen, the leader of the Jaws of Hakkon. If you want to tweak Gurd's noes in front of witnesses, now would be the best time."

"Hmm. You know, that's not a bad idea." Rajmael unsheathed his and proceeded to cut the heads off all the dead Avvar.

"Eww! What're you doing!?" Sera's stomach did backflips at the sight of Rajmael dismembering the dead.

"A tad excessive, don't you think?" Dorian asked sharing Sera's dislike.

"I'm gonna tweak Gurn Harofsen's nose.I think it's time we paid Stone-Bear Hold a visit." Rajmael answered casually as he ripped off another dead Hakkonite's head. "Arvid, can I borrow a sack?"

**Stone-Bear Hold...**

The Avvar Keep was strategically built into the side of the mountain overlooking the lake. Just like Redcliffe, place was ideal for defense against hostile forces, as well as for storing and gathering necessities throughout the year. This place was large and held an appropriate population, it was a thriving community all on its own. a testament to the staunch will and strength of the stubborn Avvar who made the Basin their home.

As they approached the gates to enter the Hold, they were met by several large, heavily armed guards.

"It seems our Hold is quite popular to outsiders to day." One of the guards chuckled. "Guests are welcome, so long as they keep their weapons sheathed. You are not the only visitors we have today, so try not to cause any offenses."

It became painfully obvious that this Hold did not receive many visits from the denizens of the Lowlands, judging from the gawking looks and curious eyes that stared at them. The Avvar were not very quiet when it came to whispering.

"Look at that. Lowlanders."

"Why do they dress like that?"

"One of them's got horns, and there's a dwarf with no beard! Is this a caravan or a traveling sideshow?"

As they closer they got to the inner keep, they noticed a large crowd had gathered, and the walls were echoing with revelries, cheering and shouting as the crowd watched their spectacle.

"What is that racket?" Cassandra asked in annoyance.

"Ooh. Sounds like a party, or a fight." Iron Bull answered excitedly. "Either way, it sounds like a lot of fun."

"I dread to think to think what these Avvar do for fun." Dorian groaned.

"Laughing, running, moving. Will he make it, will he not? Who is going to win?" Cole read the mood of the crowd perfectly.

It seems they came upon some kind of contest. Two tribesman were hurriedly climbing an ancient, rocky wall. The wall was obviously designed to be challenging with its rough surface and stones barely large enough to grab, and the height they had to climb was enough to make most people too nervous to even try. Despite the difficulty, the two mountain men climbed as though it was easier than walking. And apparently, even the Avvar like to place wagers and make bets on the winners of any contest.

"Come on, Parve you're almost there!" One of the spectators cheered.

"Hask, move your damned legs!" A woman urged.

"Ha! He climbs like a fish!" The man laughed.

"Shut it!"

Standing on a platform above the crowd stood three figures who watched the contest with intense silence. One of them was an older woman of veteran years. She wore thick furs and hood made from the same hides and design as the rest of the people in this Hold. She had a handsome face that was worn from years of hard work and battle, and piercing eyes that watched for everything. And in her hand was a massive stone warhammer in the shape of a snarling bears head. The only other woman in Thedas capable of lifting that thing was Guard-Captain Aveline. This must have been Svarrah Sun-Hair.

The other two were most definitely from this Hold. The first was a woman of such stunning beauty it was hard to believe she was even Avvar. She was tall and beautiful with a modest bust, narrow hips and flowing, sun-kissed hair cascasding down her back. Her face was small, heart shaped and had plump, crimson lips that were pulled into a lovely smile and showed off her white teeth. The wyvern leather jerkin and pants she was wearing clung to her body like a second skin and showed of her curvaceous form and generous feminine assets. And judging from the smile on her face, she was enjoying the attention some of the outsiders were giving her, their eyes were all but glued on to her.

While Iron Bull, Sera, Varric, Blackwall and even Cole were ogling at the voluptuous woman in skin tight clothes, Rajmael's attention was, unfortunately, stuck on the last one. He was an intimidating, sinister figure, wearing the same black and white war paint of the other Jaws of Hakkon. There was a look of arrogance in his eyes, and a despicable grin on his face that the chieftain tried to ignore, but obviously hated. Rajmael it didn't think it was possible, but this human was practically a giant, he stood at least a foot and half taller than Iron Bull, and with the ram horned hood he was wearing, he could have been mistaken for a Qunari from a distance. There was a symbol of a black snowflake over two crossed axes emblazoned on his chest, the symbol of the Avvar god of Winter and War, Hakkon Wintersbreath. This must be the leader of the Jaws of Hakkon, Gurd Harofsen.

"Your climbers seem tired, Thane Sun-Hair. Poor hunting? How does your Hold-Beast fare?" Gurd's tone was condescending, his question an obvious insult.

"We hunt as well as ever, Thane Harofsen." Svarrah answered almost evasively, trying to pay attention to the climbers.

"You would fare better under the protection of the Jaws of Hakkon, Thane. There is much our tribes could benefit together." Gurd insisted.

The fair-haired woman laughed as though she heard a funny joke. "From what I saw in the Basin when yer men attacked the Inquisition, it seems ye're the ones who need more protection, Gurd Harofsen."

"Your continued support for the Lowlanders over your own people will be your undoing, Siobahn Skin-Changer. Yours, and the rest of Bear-Hold." Gurd promised. "And your precious Lowland Hero won't be around to save you."

"Perhaps I should contact Aedan Cousland and he could show ye to fight like a real man, instead of whining bully full of hot air." Siobahn mocked. "Then ye'd see what a real man is like."

"Hask Fishersen has won the challenge in the sight of the Lady of The Skies!" Svarrah Sun-Hair declared bringing the contest to a close, and interrupting her guests verbal duel. "Parve, you owe four rams to Hask, not three."

"Tyrdda's tits!" Parved sword.

"Wind lift your oaths to the Lady of The Skies, and deliver the rams come morning." Svarrah beckoned.

"May your people be as strong as your Hold-Beast." Gurd saluted. His attention finally turned to the Lowlanders who arrived here. There was a spark of hatred behind his dark eyes at the sight of Rajmael. "Inquisitor. This is not my Hold, I will not shed your blood here. You will face the full might of the Jaws of Hakkon soon enough."

Rajmael's flashed the colossal human a deathly glare. He emptied the contents of the sack he was carrying and dumped the severed heads of the Hakkonites he killed at Harofsen's feet. "So far, I'm not impressed, asshole. Why don't you and I step out of this Hold right now, you stop hiding behind your underlings, and you show me what the full might of your Jaws of Hakkon truly is. And then I'll break your Jaws beneath my heel."

Siobahn busted out laughing at the top of her lungs so the entire Hold heard her. "Ye see, Gurd? Now that is how real men talk!"

"All will be settled in time." Gurd promised. He walked past the Inquisitor and made his way out. Rajmael could feel the weight of his steps vibrating the ground as he walked.

"Inquisitor, welcome I've heard of your arrival." The Thane chuckled with Gurd out of sight. "Come, share my fire where we might talk."

The Inquisitor and his company followed the Thane to her dwelling. Rajmael could hear Vivienne's nose wrinkle when she sniffed at the very sight of it. The Thane's home was basically a cave carved into the mountainside. There was a giant fire pit in the middle of the cave blazing with light, and there was even strips of meat warming on the side. The stone floor was covered in thick ram furs and a table with bone charms and runes littered on it. What was most impressive was the large throne-like chair in the back that was made from the skull and bones of a giant, and they didn't look that old. Did the Thane kill it herself.

"Welcome to Stone-Bear Hold, Inquisitor. I grant you guest-welcome to our home." Thane Sun-Hair stated as she sat down in her giant-bone chair. "You've come far from the safety of the Lowlands."

"And as much as I would love to explore this frigid, beast infested death trap you call home, we are here on a mission." Rajmael informed. "We have reason to believe that the last Inquisitor died in the Basin hundreds of years ago. We came here seeking his body."

"Giving rest and honor to the dead is a worthy quest, one will gladly aid in. Any help we can offer is yours." Svarrah Sun-Hair promised. "But the Jaws of Hakkon will not be so welcoming. As you've already seen, they will want you to pay in blood for no greater crime than being a Lowlander."

"Why are they so angry? What grudge do they bear the Lowlands?" Solas asked.

"Gurd Harofsen brought his people with him some years ago after the Blight destroyed their original Hold." The Thane answered. "There was plenty of room and gam for both our clans so we were friendly. But anger flows in Harofsen's veins like a disease and he's infected all who survived from his Hold, and seeks vengeance on those who let his clan die. To avenge a wrong is a good thing, but only fools try to destroy the world doing it."

"If you detest them so much, then why do you tolerate them?" Blackwall inquired.

"They have guest-welcome with us. Our custom and honor dictates that we at least stay out of whatever foolishness their doing, but we cannot interfere. After all, that's their business and they have done no wrong to us." The Avvar chieftain explained.

"Oh, please. I kill jerks like them while on my way to fight real problems. They're nothing to what we normally fight." Rajmael bragged.

"Ha! You've got plenty of spine Inquisitor. I can see why you lead. The people of the Lowlands have little love for your Dalish clans, I am surprised you came to lead their Inquisition and bear the name of their prophetess. How did such a thing occur?" Svarrah asked curiously.

"The hard way, and by no choice of my own." Rajmael answered. "No else was doing anything about the Breach, and I have the means of getting the job done."

"You carry a powerful piece of an ancient wonder, one that even the spirits have forgotten. By elvhen hands it was made, and by an elf's hand it is wielded. Your ancestors must be smiling at you in the spirit world." The other Avvar woman spoke. Her bright eyes looking intently at the Inquisitor.

"How could you know that?"

"Forgive my poor manners, Inquisitor." Thane Sun-Hair bade. "This is Siobahn Skin-Changer, the Auger of Bear-Hold, our kin to the north. She is here to ensure any aide we might need in the coming winter and to exchange knowledge with our Auger. She's had much interaction with Lowlanders and can help you better understand our ways."

"I've got a quick question." Varric interrupted. "What's with these weird titles some of you people carry? Are they nicknames, honorifics, what?"

"You mean our legend-marks? The thane returned. "They are names that we earn for deeds that we've done. Legends that mark the accomplishment that we will be remembered for during the rest of our lives, and after our lives end. Perhaps you may earn one yourself while you're here."

"I guess that makes sense, but why are you called Sun-Hair?" Varric questioned.

The Thane sighed despondently at the memory of it. "Years ago during a battle my hair was on fire."

"You lit your own hair on fire?!"

"_An enemy archer_ lit my hair on fire." Svarrah clarified. "I was locked with shields against another enemy and couldn't douse it. My hair was long enough for me to ignore it until after the battle. It stank worse than goat shit, though!"

"And why is she called Siobahn Skin-Changer?"

"Because I am one, Stone-Child." Siobahn answered. "If ye wish to know more of this land and the magic that dwells here, come speak with me in the Auger's hut." The sultry auger's eyes marveled at Rajmael like he was made of solid gold. "And please, bring ye attractive friend with ye." Almost everyone's eyes were glued to her, and her swaying hips, as she swaggered out of the cave.

"Well, Inquisitor, if a lady asks, then I must oblige. Let's go talk to her before we leave." Dorian chuckled. "After all she did want the attractive one to come with you."

"What're you talking about, she obviously talking about the most exotic one in the room. And let's face it, what's more exotic than me?" Iron Bull stated and started flexing his muscles braggingly.

"Oh, no arguments here, Bull. But I think the lady knows true beauty when she sees it." Dorian argued jokingly.

"You're both daft!" Sera giggled. "Neither youse is her type. But me? I am, ooh, and she's definitely mine."

"There's no need to argue!" Siobahn called, peering her pretty head back to the cave. "I was talking about the actual attractive one. The one with sword and perfect cheekbones." Everyone was shocked to see her point to Cassandra. The Seeker was most surprised of all. "If ye bring her to my tent, I'll gladly fulfill any curiosity you might have."

Blackwall coughed uncomfortably to break the silence. "Well, Seeker, it seems you attract all types."

Cassandra stood stiff and silent with a look of surprise on her face. "I...I don't know if I should be flattered or frightened."

"Take it as a compliment, dear." Vivienne insisted. "If these savages can see what beauty lies under all that armor, then there's no reason why the rest of the world shouldn't."

Dozens of thoughts were going through Rajmael's mind right now and most of them involved Cassandra and were very dirty, but he had to focus on what mattered right now. "Ahem. Er, we need a boat to get to the island in the middle of the lake. I was told to ask for your permission."

"Ah, Arvid. He worries like a baby goat." Svarrah Sun-Hair sighed. "Tell him that I give you my blessing. You may use our boats to sail to the Island of The Lady."

"Thank you, Thane Sun-Hair. We'll depart soon."

"Please, help yourselves to any supplies and aid we can give." Thane Sun-Hair bade, her voice serious and grim. "And Inquisitor, be careful. Gurd Harofsen and his Jaws of Hakkon may be brutes, but there is something dark and profane in their souls. Whatever they're planning could mean great destruction for your people."

"Don't worry Thane Sun-Hair. Killing heretical cults and savage fanatics is my specialty." Rajmael laughed.

"Then I will pray to Korth Mountain-Father and The Lady of The Skies for your victory. May you find what you seek."

**Author's Note:**

**Once again, I'm sorry it took so long to update. My personal life is busy, the holidays are fast approaching and I've been busy playing Trespasser.**

**I will be working all my available free time to getting the next chapter posted.**

**And for those of you who don't know who Siobahn is, I highly recommend you go back and read my previous story "I am Aedan of Highever!"**

**Please Read, Review and Enjoy.**


	28. Breaking The Jaws: Part II

**Breaking the Jaws: Part II**

The Inquisitor and his company took a little time to explore the Hold and gather some supplies before setting out again. Rajmael hated to admit this, and he never would, but after observing these people, even briefly, he realized that these human barbarians were more in common with his own people than any other culture he had seen in his time with the Inquisition. Just like back with Clan Lavellan, everyone worked, everyone had a job, a duty to perform which contributed to the daily function of the tribe. The hunters would bring back game and fish while the healers and gatherers would collect herbs and other necessities, and the craftsmen made sure that all the equipment and buildings in the Hold were functional. And the most distinctive trait both the Dalish and the Avvar had in common, was that everyone here, the young, old, hunters, craftsmen and apprentices alike, were all trained in the ways of combat. If a threat came, everyone was expected to fight to the bitter end to protect their kin. There was no room for petty customs or niceties, no room for weakness. Everyday they faced the harsh challenges of nature with only their own will to drive them on, and being outside the Chantry's grace, there would be no assistance against any enemy who would attack them, which was often the Chantry itself and its faithful. The only difference between the Dalish and the Avvar was that the mountain men had a place to call home, and the elves did not.

Before they leave for the Island of The Lady in the middle of the lake, Rajmael decided to take up Auger Siobahn's invitation and gather more information about this land and its magic. Hopefully she could give them more information on the Jaws of Hakkon. He would just have to make sure he kept a close eye on Cassandra, and make sure that Siobahn knew that this Seeker was already taken.

When they were approaching the Auger's hut, Rajmael felt a strange yet familiar form of magical energy emanating from inside. It was very similar to the aura that Solas projected when he was using his own magic. The hut was larger than the average living space, a sign of importance, and was sturdily built from the stones of the mountain, with a column of smoke billowing from the roof. As they entered, they discovered that Siobahn was not alone inside the hut.

"Behold, worthy gods of this land, past and present! The man whose hand blazes across the world and guards against the darkness." The brazier in the room blazed with blue flames as Siobahn declared Rajmael's presence before a choir of spirits that looked upon the elf with the gaze of respected elders.

"Hello!" Cole greeted eagerly.

"Aw, shit!" Bull cursed.

Cassandra's hand reached for her sword. "What is this?"

"No, no. No!" Sera denied as if saying it would make it true.

"Be at ease. They mean no harm." Solas assured.

"As long as they don't do anything stupid." Blackwall warned.

"Huh. Well, isn't this new and different." Varric said sarcastically.

"Do be careful, Inquisitor. I see no wards in this shabby...hovel." Vivienne advised with her trademark haughty attitude.

"Come and be welcome." The buxom shaman greeted with her thick accent. "I, Siobahn an Igraine O'Bear-Hold, Shaman of Bear-Hold to the north, greet ye, Herald of Change. As do the gods of this lands people, and the gods of their ancestors. We are honored to meet ye, Inquisitor." Siobahn bowed her head in respect, and the spirits she summoned followed suite before disappearing back into the fade like smoke in the wind.

"Did...you just introduce me to spirits?" Rajmael asked. Unlike most of the others, he was more curious than stunned.

"Your hand burns like the Tower of Ishal to the denizens of the spirit world, they were eager to see you." Siobahn answered. "And besides, they've been pestering me ever since ye arrived. Showing ye off to them was the only way to get them to shut up."

"You...truly worship spirits as gods?" Cassandra asked skeptically.

"We _offer_ to them, Daughter of Dragon-Slayers." Siobahn deliberately clarified. "We do not pray to any god that will weather out the ages and give protection and salvation to the whole world. There's no such a thing. Our gods have watched over us, guided us, ever since the first tribes settled in the Frostbacks, and in return we give them the respect they deserve."

"But then why pray to them, if you do not truly believe they are divine beings?" Cassandra's Andrastian mind was almost incapable of comprehending that.

"Each god is different, fulfilling their specific role in the Beyond and this world. The fisherman offer to Bjorn Reed-Beard for good catches while the shamans call to the Lady for the dead, and all of us call to Korth The Mountain-Father, who rules the Frostbacks. The gods are a reflection of who we are, and that reflection gives us strength. That is why we offer to them and invoke their names for when we have need of them." Siobahn explained. "But please, enough philosophy. Come in and share my fire, I wish to look at ye."

Siobahn gazed at all them with a sight that seemed to look straight into

**Author's Note:**

**Just like in my last story with Siobahn, I decided to have a different reaction to each character, kind of like the game.**

Cassandra:

"Hmm. How interesting." Siobahn stated. The previous lust in her eyes had been replaced with curiosity.

"What is so interesting?" Cassandra asked defensively.

"Unlike so many Chantry slaves, ye don't let yer faith blind ye, or wield it like a weapon, but instead wear it like armor against all that would harm you." The Avvar mage spoke. "But beneath all that armor beats the heart of a woman. A woman with secret desires...desires that are now fulfilled." Siobahn smiled slyly at the Seeker, making Cassandra blush. "Ye have found a special place in yer heart for a man who does not share yer faith. A rare and truly wonderful thing."

"How...how could you know that." Cassandra asked turning her face away to hide her blushing cheeks.

"Ha! Because it's painfully obvious." Siobahn chuckled. "I see the way ye look at that elven arse of his. It's like ye're trying to peel him out of his clothes with yer eyes."

Everyone started snickering under their breath, even with Cassandra giving them her signature death glare. And Rajmael smiling at her the way he did didn't help matters.

"Keep yer faith and yer love close, Seeker." Siobahn said cautiously. "For both will be tested through fire in the days to come."

Cole:

"Hello. My name is Cole." Cole greeted.

"A name ye have chosen for yeself. So remarkable." Siobahn looked at Cole with gentle appreciation. "A spirit who became a mortal to help others."

"Being more human makes me able to understand people, and how to help them." The living Spirit of Compassion affirmed.

"Yer choice makes the world richer for it." Siobahn said truthfully. "Yer choice opens you to all the joys and tragedies of being mortal, but no gift is more precious than compassion. It is honor to meet ye."

Cole bashfully hid his face under his hat. "Your words make me feel warm inside. I really like your...words."

Blackwall:

"And so another Lowland knight walks with hypocrisy written on his face." The Avvar mage said blithely. "But unlike the rest of them, ye let yer guilt weigh ye down, and tried to hide it by wearing another's face."

Blackwall's eyes went wide with shock. "How...how could you know that?"

"Because ye wear yer guilt on yer chest like a badge of shame." Siobahn answered.

"Why don't look somewhere else?" Blackwall scoffed. "Aren't there some demons for you to consort with?"

"Ye hate to be reminded of yer crime because the shame hurts." The shaman continued. "Good. But be careful not to let its burden drag you down and become vulnerable. Let it serve as a reminder as to why ye most be more than the common man."

Iron Bull:

Siobahn looked at the one-eyed curiously. "Hmm. The last time Qun-creature from the North I saw didn't have horns. Yers look great."

"Heh-heh. Thanks the horns are awesome." Iron Bull chuckled. "But I'm not a 'Qun-creature' anymore. But thanks for noticing."

"Yer not sure where ye belong anymore. Ye fear yerself and what you may become without the name ye once held." Siobahn said cryptically. "Hold on to the comrades ye've made, and they'll keep ye on the right track."

"Er. Right. Let's keep that creepy mag stuff to a minimum, lady." Iron Bull said nervously.

"Ye know what? For some with such big muscles, ye're a wuss." Siobahn scoffed.

"And for a lady with such a nice rack, ass and legs, you creep me out more than most Vints I've met. I kinda like it." Iron Bull growled suggestively.

Dorian:

"Oh-ho-ho! What is this? A mage from the far Northern lands of dragons? Ye're so pretty I almost mistook ye for a lass!" Siobahn laughed.

"Oh, well, thank you. I do take great pride in my self image, grooming, hygiene and magical expertise. Perhaps I could teach your clan a little bit about it before I depart." Dorian said wit his trademark sardonic wit.

Siobahn kept her smile on her face and was unfazed by Dorian jibe. "Ye only strut around like a peacock with yer pretty feathers to get everyone's attention because ye weren't loved enough as a child, weren't ye? Let me guess: mother was a criticizing drunk, yer father never understood ye, and neither of them took the time of day to even give ye a hug or even a sympathetic pat on the back. How am I doing so far?"

"You forgot the part where _I_ would get horribly drunk in the middle of the city and waste my father's coin on expensive elven man-whore's because my parents always forgot my birthday." Dorian clarified.

"It always feels good to rub people's noses in it, and let the unfortunate many despair over what they cannot ever have." Siobahn smiled.

"My dear, you're a woman after my own heart." Dorian sighed. "In another life I might've fallen for you."

"Oh, I'd turn ye down flat in a heartbeat. Sorry, but I only care for real men." Siobahn laughed.

Varric:

Siobahn looked at the dwarven merchant with shocked disbelief and reverence. "Oh, Sweet Lady! Are ye...Varric Tethras?!"

"Why, yes. Yes, I am." Varric winked.

"Korth's beard! I've only read yer 'Tales of the Champion' thirty times! The parts with the Rivaini pirate-lady we're my favorite." Siobahn gushed dreamily. "Truly, ye must be a Paragon of Skalds!"

"And who says the Avvar are barbarians?" Varric said vainly puffing his hairy chest. "I think there's many in the Lowlands who could learn from your example.

"I would love for ye to write another tale of Swords and Shields." Siobahn squealed.

"You're not the only one." Cassandra grumbled under her breath.

Sera:

"I don't care how pretty ya are, don't be lookin' at me with those magey eyes, alright?" Sera pleaded.

"Fine, then don't let me catch ye starin' at me tits." Siobahn countered.

"Aw! That ain't fair!" Sera whined.

"Life isn't fair, and yer petty, childish games do very little to change that." The Avvarian woman glowered.

"Grr! Get out of my brain! No one's supposed to be there!" The elven thief screeched.

Siobahn scoffed mockingly. "Bitch, a flattened midget flea couldn't get into yer brain."

"That's right. I...hey!"

Vivienne:

"Ah. Another Circle lass, I see." Siobahn observed as she looked at the frilly dressed Vivienne. "Would ye care to learn the ways of the Skin-Changer?"

While Vivienne smiled her eyes scowled. "Oh, thank you for the offer, dear, but I doubt there's anything a mage like you could teach me."

Siobahn returned Vivienne's fake smile. "Really? I thought perhaps ye'd like such a skill to help give ye an edge. I mean, ye did lose to another certain Skin-Changer, if I'm not mistaken, and I'm not. I thought maybe ye'd like to know exactly what kind of skill Morrigan used to beat ye at yer own game."

Vivienne's false smile melted from her face and reflected the disgust she felt for that name. "And just how do you know her?"

"I had the good fortune to meet her during the Blight." A mischievous smile crept across Siobahn's face. "Ohhh. And let me tell ye, I'd would've literally killed to have just one bite of a tasty, exotic fruit like her. But unfortunately, someone else had already plucked her."

Vivienne's face grew more disgusted by the shaman's words. "I suppose devious creatures like you would stick together, like fungus. And I assure you, there is nothing an ill-bred apostate like her, or you, with your savage, vile magic, could do to advance in the civilized world. My own mastery of the Game is my real power."

Siobahn's bright white teeth shined through her devious smile. "Really? I thought maybe you could use my magic to turn into something that's worth a damn now. From what I've been given to understand, yer outdated, oppressive, and hypocritical Circle ways have become irrelevant. I suppose that makes ye irrelevant as well. Doesn't it?"

Solas:

The Avvarian shaman stared at the elven apostate with deep curiosity. "How strange. The gods walk beside ye as though ye were a dear friend, or even kin. Yet they say nothing of ye. There is something...very old about yer soul. Something...ancient."

Solas smiled gently and nodded his head to the younger woman. "Your connection and respect for the spirits is most impressive. It is good to meet kindred mages, even in the most unwelcoming of places."

"What manner of mage be ye that not even the spirits know what tongue ye truly speak?" Siobahn's eyes remained cautious and inquisitive. "Apostate or not, ye far more than what ye appear to be."

Rajmael:

Siobahn looked at the Inquisitor as though she were staring at his very soul. "Welcome, Rajmael Yonwyn Lavellan of Clan Lavellan. Swordsman and sorcerer. Victor and victim. Father and brother. Ye have brought much honor to yer people. I have not seen such greatness in a single person's soul since Aedan Star-Fang."

"How can you know such things?" Rajmael inquired.

"I have eyes and ears, and my teacher taught me how to use them." Siobahn answered coyly. "The spirits who have watched yer deeds have told me about ye and yer companions. And they have told me magnificent tales of you. How you muddied the flow of time where the Cliffs are Red. How you vanquished the Nightmare that feeds off the dreams of fear. But they have also told me of yer past." Siobahn's eyes became sorrowful and sympathetic. "The pains and terrors ye have suffered, and what happened to yer family. The only man I know who has suffered as much pain as you is Aedan Star-Fang."

"You...you know the Hero of Ferelden?" Rajmael asked trying to change the subject.

"Oh, aye. He is Mo Dearthaire, a brother to my Hold." The blonde mage answered dreamily. "If I liked men, I'd have pounded him into next Age, because let me tell ye, he's more than a man. He...is...a BEAST! My clan aided him during the Blight. Oh! Which is how I met yer Spymaster. I would have pounced her too if I had the chance. Redheads are always so feisty."

"Hmm, yeah. Redheads..." Iron Bull sighed.

"What was that name you called the Hero of Ferelden?" Cassandra inquired.

"Aedan Star-Fang. It's the Legend-Mark my people gave him after he defeated the Archdemon."

Varric's eyes went wide with excitement. "Ooh! I like the sound of that. But why do you call him that?"

Siobahn smiled widely. "Mo Dearthaire was given the name of the sword he used to slay the Archdemon, for he is the ultimate weapon for his country. Perhaps ye shall earn one yerself one day."

"If you're from another tribe, then just what are you doing here?" Blackwall inquired.

"My Hold is kin to this one, and Chief Sun-Hair has always been a friend to us. My magical skill widely known by the many Avvar Holds, so she asked me to lend my aid to the Auger to help strengthen the arms of her warriors. To help watch them become worthy."

"Wait." Cassandra bade. "What kind of magical aid could you give these warriors? Why do you need to watch them become worthy? Worthy of what?"

"As the warriors train, the gods watch them become worthy of second strength when needed, a sight to see where they need to strike. I make sure they are ready to accept the gods' blessing, and drive the bad spirits away." Siobahn explained not realizing how abhorrent this practice was to Andrastians, and didn't care.

"I see. You make sure both the warrior and the spirit are capable of becoming one with each other." Solas surmised. "To make sure the warrior can handle merging with the spirit, and make sure the spirit is a beneficial one."

"That's impossible." Cassandra denied. "That would mean that everyone here would be an abomination!"

"Only if a bad spirit is linked with a weak mortal." Siobahn assured. "The mages of the Lowlands are weak, living in their gilded cages with no purpose, and do not possess our strength. That is why dark spirits seek to take yer mages: they're easy prey. Ye only have yerselves to blame for abominations."

"There are many hundreds of mages throughout Thedas who go their whole lives without ever encountering a demon outside their Harrowing." Vivienne stated superciliously. "Perhaps its merely your savage, uncivilized ways that's the problem, but I'd rather not be possessed by demons."

Siobahn flashed a dangerous gleamed glare at Vivienne's attitude. "I knew another Circle Mage once, her name was Wynne. She was old enough to be my grandmother, could outdrink a dwarf, and she had better tits and ass than ye do now. And she was anchored to a Spirit of Faith that gave her extraordinary healing powers. But ye? Ye're just another Orlesian. Nothing truly special." Siobahn turned her glare over to the Seeker. "And ye...it's Chantry shites like ye that make the Jaws of Hakkon seem like a good idea. There's a reason why the Hero of Ferelden would do nothing but watch as yer precious Chantry just burned. The most he'd probably do is piss on the ashes."

"What can you tell us about the Jaws of Hakkon?" Rajmael finally asked trying to get the subject back on track. Last thing he needed was a vicious catfight.

Siobahn's lovely face twisted into a disgusted scowl at the mention of that name. "They are not the first band of brutes to bear that name, and all who have were fools. All of them. There is no evil in Hakkon Wintersbreath, sometimes war is necessary. But these idiots? They care only for bloodlust and battle-glory. To murder and die simply for the joy of it. They bastardize the god of Winter and War."

"There have been other groups called the Jaws of Hakkon?" Iron Bull asked.

"Yes. The last group existed many lifetimes ago." The skin-changer answered. "They sought to conquer and destroy the Lowlands, but they in turn were utterly destroyed. Their actions shamed all the gods."

"What can you tell me about that midget-sized giant who leads them? This Gurd Harofsen?" Rajmael asked.

The scowl on Siobahn's intensified and her eyes gleamed with hatred as she growled like an angry bear. "Gurd Harofsen. A petulant child with body and wisdom of a muscle bound troll. Sadly, his mad ambition is matched only by his prowess as a warrior. If it were it not for the fact that we both have guest-welcome in this Hold, I'd've turned into a bear, devoured him, then shite out all over the Basin by now!"

"Not your favorite person I take it?" Rajmael observed sarcastically.

"He's a disgrace to all Avvar, and dishonors Hakkon Wintersbreath!" Siobahn hissed. "I fought in the Blight to stop the world my people lived in from being destroyed. Gurd Harofsen was disgusted by his Hold's peaceful ways and abandoned them to go fighting as mercenary all for the sake of glory. He has the vanity of an Orlesian dandy!"

"But why does he have such hatred for the Lowlands?" Solas inquired.

"After the Blight, when he got bored with killing darkspawn and Lowlanders, he returned to his Hold only to find it destroyed, every one was dying from the taint, so he blamed the Lowlands." Siobahn explained pitiably. "He cursed the gods for not protecting them, and blamed the Lowlanders for not coming to their rescue. But while he puts the blame on others like a sobbing baby, he doesn't think to realize that maybe they all died because he wasn't there to defend them. Then he took what remained of his clan, poisoned their minds with his hatred and anger, and brought them to the old Tevinter ruins and became the Jaws of Hakkon."

"But why does he, and the rest of his...little club, bare the Inquisition, and the Inquisitor, such a violent grudge?" Dorian asked.

"I truly do not know." Siobahn sighed. "Perhaps it is because ye protect the Lowlands he despises, and are called 'The Herald of Andraste', which he sees as a challenge to Hakkon. But whatever it is, he's made ye the object of his grudge."

"Do you have any idea what his plans may be?" Rajmael queried.

"Nay. But whatever they plan is truly vile, for even the spirits avoid them like a plague. Whatever it is they're doing behind those walls of the Tevinter ruin is offensive to the gods, and the spirits are too fearful to even go near them."

That was very disturbing. What could Gurd Harofsen be doing that even the spirits dared not watch? Rajmael now knew the extent of the Hakkonites' strength, and it should help them combat these fanatics should the time come. "We should get to that island now, and maybe we'll find some more answers. Thank you for the information, Siobahn."

"I shall prey to the Mountain-Father and The Lady for yer victory, Inquisitor."

**Later at Couldcap Island...**

With Svarrah Sun-Hair's blessing and with guest-welcome, Arvid the fisherman graciously lent them use of one of his boats. As they rowed to the Island of the Lady, Rajmael couldn't help but be in awe of this lake. All the thawed snows and mountain streams that came down from the Frostback Mountains flowed here, teeming with fish, making these waters rich with bounty. It was no Lake Calenhad, but it was impressive nonetheless.

While they rowed closer, Rajmael found out why the Avvar avoided this place for fear of angering the spirits: there were literally spirits wandering around it. Not demons, wraiths or even purposeful spirits, more like wisps attracted to the island and wandering all over it. Why were they drawn here?

"Interesting." Solas observed. "I wonder what drew so many spirits to this particular place."

"They watched the dead and dying." Cole answered. "Pressing close, clustered against the Veil until they all fell through, then forgot how to go back."

They reached the small island and the instant they moored the line they all felt this unexplainable sense of dread and foreboding come over all of them like a black cloud. It was as if the very air and soul of this piece of ground was built upon grief and sorrow. What was this?

Sera wrinkled her nose and sniffed the air like something smelled bad. "I smell fish and...sadness? Why does the air smell sad? Stupid Veil, being all...Veil-ly!"

"Fish?" Iron Bull questioned. "I smell...the ocean, spice, and...smoke? Seheron? Oh, that's messed up!"

"What in Andraste's name is this?" Cassandra questioned cautiously.

"This island radiates sadness like a fire does heat, and attracts the spirits here like moths. And they in turn reflect that sadness." Solas explained.

Rajmael's skin felt chilly and clammy, like a thousand ice-cold stings were piercing his flesh. And well of regret and pain erupted in his chest like. He hadn't felt anything like this since the day he buried Evanura. "What kind of tragedy occurred here that it would effect the very environment so profoundly?"

_"Vhenan! Please wait for me! I'm coming!"_ The desperate cry of a woman echoed.

"What was that?!" Rajmael's ears twitched and listened for the final echo to tell him where to go. "That way!"

_"Is that blood? My blood? No! I cannot die now."_ The voice despaired.

They all ran after the voice. It was getting louder, the echoes more resounding. They were getting closer.

_"I cannot...cannot die now. Not until I see you again. Ameridan...my love."_

Ameridan?! This might be what they were looking for here, the answers they seek. What they instead discovered was a large, but surprisingly stable rift enveloping an ancient cabin of some kind. Wraiths and wisps were pouring out of the Rift like blood from an artery, and they gathered around the Rift and stared at the ruined building inside of it like spectators at a play.

"Solas, any idea what this is?" Rajmael asked.

"This Rift was not caused by the Breach. I'd imagine that it's centuries old, and whatever caused it is the reason why all these Spirits of Sorrow have gathered here, and why the Avvar fear coming here." Solas answered intrigued.

Everyone of them heard what sounded like brokenhearted sobbing within the Rift, and the feelings of sadness and loss were at their most intense here. Whatever it was that was causing this, and whatever answers they were looking for were within this Rift. Rajmael lifted his hand to the tear in the Veil and felt the Anchor connect to it in a stream of Fade energy, attaching his will to the other side.

With a loud crash, the Rift was sealed, revealing what was crying inside. A forlorn spirit weeping over an unfortunate skeleton long depraved of life. Who was this?

_"Telanna slept...I slept to find him in the dreaming world...But I...so much blood...I'm..._She_ is gone."_ The spirit wept sadly. _"Telana wanted to reach Ameridan again, one more time, but she couldn't. _I_ couldn't. And she died. I tried to stay, but only pieces came through here. You opened the sky for the rest of me."_

"Solas, what manner of spirit is this?" Rajmael wondered.

"It's a benevolent spirit, drawn here by the desperation and sorrow of whoever this woman was." Solas answered. "Whoever this woman was, she was a very powerful mage to summon a spirit like this and for her magic to linger on for so many centuries. It would also seem she knew the Last Inquisitor."

"_Ameridan. Yes. Inquisitor. My beloved. Ma vhenan. I...She...came with Ameridan to hunt the dragon."_ The sad spirit whispered.

"The Dragon?"

_"Yes. Huge, powerful. Like nothing Ameridan or Kordillius had ever seen. Powerful enough to rival the Archdemon. It came from the mountains with the Avvar. Towns fell. All dead."_ The Spirit remembered. _"One last favor for Emperor Drakon. Slay the Avvar-Dragon. Save Orlais."_

"Wait. Drakon _sent_ Ameridan here? Why wasn't this recorded? Why was it forgotten?" Cassandra needed to know.

_"No. Not forgotten. Forbidden. Drakon erased and withheld all information on Ameridan's final quest."_ The Spirit answered forlornly.

"But why?"

_"Orlais must remain strong, be a symbol to others. None could know lest it strike the empire down with fear. Ameridan, Telana, Orinna and Haron would all be heroes when they returned."_ The Spirit continued._ "But he never returned. They all died here. We fought on the shore. Spirits, magic and cold, so much cold. That was how I found her, how she found us. They rested here, then up the river. To the metal spires where the dragon-men from the North came. There was a way to stop the dragon. Haron and Orinna led the Avvar away so Telana could escape back here and wait for Ameridan, alone. Forever waiting. Dreaming...then dead."_

"You came when she was hurting. You watched, held her, kept her safe so that she could be reunited with her love until the very end." Cole said compassionately. "And then you stayed so she would not be forgotten. But you need stay, do not need to be sad anymore."

_"Yes. Thank you for coming here."_

"Wait!" Rajmael bade. "She called Ameridan 'Ma Vhenan'. And her name, Telana, she was an elf? A Dalish elf?"

_"Yes. A dreamer of the People, a voice in the High Council."_ The Spirit answered. _"A precious gift from the Creators to bring back their lost arts. She was his heart, and he was hers. Being separated from him was worse than dying. Ameridan...my love."_

"We...we will find Ameridan. You do not need to linger here any longer." Rajmael assured sadly.

"Thank you. It was so hard." The spirit looked down at the remains of the Last Inquisitor's elven lover and faded back into the world of spirits.

Rajmael sorrowfully, but respectfully looked down at the preserved remains of Telana. Near her was an ancient leather satchel with a sealed scroll inside that had been perfectly preserved, and it carried the insignia of Kordillius Drakon the First. Rajmael unraveled the scroll and read its contents.

**_Whosoever reads this message, _**

**_Let it be known that the bearer, Inquisitor Ameridan, Commander of the Seekers of Truth, travels to the Frostback Basin on the official request of His Divine Majesty Kordillius Drakon, Emperor of Orlais, upon business vital to the safety and security of this most holy empire, and that he and those who travel with him are to be afforded every service, rendered every assistance, and extended every courtesy in their effort to protect Orlesian lives from threats both magical and mundane. _**

**_Maker watch over him,_**  
**_ Kordillus Drakon I._**

"So it's true." Cassandra confirmed. "Inquisitor Ameridan was sent here, but on official business for the Empire of Orlais."

"It would seem that Kenric's research is not unfounded." Vivienne acknowledged.

"That spirit spoke of Avvar fighting with cold and spirits, just like the Hakkonites do." Solas pointed out. "I doubt that is coincidence."

"I suppose Kenric will want to know of our discovery." Dorian suggested. "Maker knows that man close to exploding from anticipation."

"So does this mean we can leave the scary island now? Please?" Sera asked agitatedly.

"Yeah. I'm her on this. This place is really starting to bring me down." Iron Bull agreed.

"You ready to get going Inquisitor? Inquisitor?" Varric called.

Everyone looked to see Rajmael kneeling before Telana's body. Resting next to her was a quiver of arrows of elven design that seemed to be made of veridium. They must have meant something to Telana for her to die with them, so he dared not touch them. Rajmael carefully reached over her remains and gently withdrew the amulet that was resting there. It was ancient, made of a some kind of green stone and white wood, with intricate elven knots on the sides and borders. On the face was the mosaic desiegn of an elven woman looking over a white halla.

Rajmael couldn't look away from the trinket, his face was painted with sorrow. "Amulets like these were made specifically for members of the High Council of the Dales, to represent the Creators. My Keeper carries one passed down from the founder of our clan. None have been made since the destruction of our homeland. Telana was one of the voices of my people." Rajmael mournfully returned the ancient artifact to its rightful owner. He looked down at her with reverent respect in his eyes. "Telana, somniar'a elvhen. Ir abelas. It is a crime for any elf to forget our kin, and you have been unjustly swept aside by history. You lived in a time when our people were truly free, when we were masters of our own destiny. You died before reaching your vhenan, but at least you did not witness our destruction. When I find Ameridan's body, I swear to Ghilanain, that I will return you to him." Rajmael stood and bowed his head as he recited the prayer taught to him by Keeper Deshana. "Hahren melana sahlin. Emma ir abelas. Souver'inan isala hamin. Vhenan him dor'felas. In uthenera na revas. Vir sulahn'nehn. Vir dirthera. Vir samahl la numin. Vir lath sa'vunin"

**Back at the Inquisition Forward Camp...**

Scout Harding's eyes lit up like candles when she saw the Inquisitor and his company make it back to camp. "Inquisitor! You're back!"

"Anything to report, Scout Harding?" Rajmael asked.

"You must've really made a good impression with those Avvar at Stone-Bear Hold. They came by earlier with some gifts of cured meats, and some barrels of fish and ale. Not fish and ale together, that'd be gross. One of them men tried a sample, he barely touched his cup and it dropped him like a twenty-pound hammer. We had to get a healer over to make sure he wasn't dead."

"Ooh. Really? I'll to try some of that." Iron Bull chuckled.

"I may might give it try myself." Blackwall agreed.

"Be careful boys. Avvarian beer isn't for the faint of heart." Varric warned.

Professor Kenric eagerly trotted over to the Inquisitor, waving his hand. "Your Worship, you've returned! Have you any news? Did you go to the island?"

"Yes. And we found some answers." Rajmael answered dismally. "A spirit on the Island held the memories of Ameridan's lover, an elf named Telana. It told us that Ameridan was sent here on orders of Emperor Drakon himself...an where he went next."

"Really? Are you certain?" Kenric asked excitedly. "Oh! Oh, this changes everything everyone thought they knew about Ameridan! This discredits so many so-called experts on early Chantry history!"

Rajmael quirked an eyebrow disinterestedly. "This has got you excited."

"Oh, I'm ecstatic! We're finally on the right track towards the truth! There were orders from Drakon himself? This changes everything." The Professor was practically jumping for joy. "It proves that Ameridan wasn't an embarrassment who went hunting after a dragon after being dismissed from court, but a patriot who was serving his emperor. Andraste's sacred dimples, I may have received tenure just from this alone."

"And the fact that I got this information from a wayward spirit doesn't bother you?"

"Oh, well, it's not the ideal means of acquiring information I'll admit, but the truth is more important than the manner in which it is revealed." The Professor answered. "And the fact that it's a spirit means that there was eyewitness testimony, which does add some legitimacy to the story."

"The spirit said to follow the river upstream to a ruin of metal and spikes. That was where Ameridan headed when he came here."

"Metal spikes? Ah, yes! Your scouts mentioned a Tevinter ruin northward up the river." The Professor informed. "That must be where the Spirit was talking about. I'll let you clear the way while I continue shinning these buckles..." Kenric stood there for a moment realizing how sounded. "That sounded so much better in head."

**Later at the ruins upriver...**

Thanks to their forces securing the river, Rajmael and his company were easily able to navigate upriver to where the ruins were. From the north end of the river, they found the remains of an underground waterway, and Dorian confirmed that the architecture was Tevinter. It was taking diverting water from the river up towards the ruin. From the waterway they found a stairwell that led up to the ruin. And while the river may have been cleared of the Hakkonites, this ruin had a well fortified company of the savages guarding it.

"Well, would you look at that. A lovely little group of barbarians armed to the teeth and guarding the front the gate." Dorian said glibly.

"There's a lot of them. Wonder what could be in there that needs this many guards." Iron Bull pointed.

"So how do you think we should attack the situation?" Blackwall asked.

"Maybe we could just waltz over there, knock on the front door, and politely ask them to come out?" Varric joked.

"Good idea." Rajmael snorted as he drew his sword and started walking over there.

"Wait. I was just kidding!" Varric yelled.

"I wasn't." Rajmael growled walking off.

"Should, uh, should we stop him?" Blackwall asked nervously.

"I don't think that would be possible, or wise, with him in this mood right now." Solas informed cautiously.

"He gets his sword out and it doesn't go down until he's done going and going and going, until he's done swinging it around." Sera chuckled mischievously. "Right, Cassandra?"

"...Yes." Cassandra blushed.

The Inquisitor marched towards the ancient and well fortified front gate. The Avvar guarding the door and standing the walls were surprised by the audacity of the lone elf walking straight over to them, outnumbered and armed only with a wooden sword. They didn't know whether to impressed or insulted.

The Inquisitor marched towards the ancient and well fortified front gate. The Avvar guarding the door and standing the walls were surprised by the audacity of the lone elf walking straight over to them, outnumbered and armed only with a wooden sword. They didn't know whether to impressed or insulted.

"Ha-ha-ha! What's this?!" A powerfully built Hakkonite wielding a giant axe mocked. "A lost little elf come to challenge the Jaws of Hakkon? You're brave or suicidal. Ah-ha-ha!"

A bolt of lightning flew from The Inquisitor's sword and struck the warrior right in his laughing mouth, making his head explode into a geyser of blood. The archers on the wall fired a volley of their ice-enchanted arrows at the Inquisitor. Rajmael didn't even need to activate his Shimmering Shield and deflected the enchanted projectiles with his sword. The arrows found themselves lodged into the very archers who fired them, the ice magic froze the archers into blocks of ice that shattered the instant they hit the ground.

With their archers and bruiser dead, the remaining Hakkonites guarding the door charged the Dalish mage with their ice-swords and axes. Rajmael held his ground, his sword burning with veilfire, and waited for the right moment. The Arcane Warrior dashed, his magic increasing his speed to blinding levels, the Shimmering Shield making him more of an apparition than physical, as he darted past each of them with one stroke of his sword. Rajmael flicked the blood off his sword after he got past them. All four warriors fell to the ground dead as a wave of blood erupted from the wounds the Enasalin inflicted.

Rajmael approached the large metal door, definitely Tevinter in origin, and very sturdy. His elven ears could hear the Hakkonites on the other side getting ready for a fight. He shouldn't disappoint them. Against a door like this, you'd normally need a battering ram. Fortunately, Rajmael had something even better. "Bull!"

"I got it." The muscle-bound mercenary yelled, charging down the metal door, screaming like a maniac. The Bull smashed the hammerhead side of his axe right up against the blockade, knocking it right its hinges and flying through the doorway. The broken door landed and two Hakkonites on the other side and crushed them beneath its weight. "Knock, knock, assholes!"

The Inquisitor and The Bull charged in and engaged the enemy while the rest of their companions ran to get in on the action. The Hakkonites were not expecting such a successful assault and were caught off guard. Their arrogance was their undoing. Iron Bull laughed as he swung his axe left and right and cut each of the painted barbarians down. Even with their enchanted weapons, these Hakkonites were little more than thugs: ill-disciplined with more muscles than brains. Which made them easy targets against the training and discipline of Cassandra and Blackwall. And while the Inquisitor engaged the enemy with his warriors, the company's mages and rogues were able to whittle the Hakkonites down with their magic, arrows and knives from the flanks and at a distance. Within a matter of minutes, all the Hakkonites that were guarding this place were nothing more than a pile of dead bodies.

With the Hakkonites dead and the ruin secured, Rajmael lit a signal flare to let Scout Harding and Professor Kenirc know it was safe to come. With both the river and the ruin cleared of Hakkonites, both the Scholar and the Scout made it here rather quickly.

Being a scholar of ancient pre-Chantry history, Kenric couldn't help but marvel at these ruins. "Oh, how marvelous! This is obviously late period Tevinter architecture. These dragon statues seem to be venerate Razikale, The Old God of Mystery."

"Ah. That would explain the dismal atmosphere and that gloomy sense of dread this ruin gives off." Dorian stated. "Though that could be said about most Tevinter architecture."

"Even here, on the ass end of nowhere, you can see Tevinter arrogance. Is there anywhere the Vints went that they didn't shit on everything?" Iron Bull grumbled.

"Tiny, I'll bet you a thousand royals that if we go to the bottom of the ocean, or even the moon, we'd probably find some weird Tevinter ruins." Varric commented.

"Where's my pen and parchment? I'm sure if I inspected the design and layout of this ruin I'd be able to determine what its original purpose was." Kenric said absently.

"Um, Professor? You're getting sidetracked again." Harding reminded.

"Oh, right. Forgive me." The Starkhaven Scholar turned his attention to the Inquisitor. "Your Worship, well done. Inspecting these ruins would have been even harder with those Hakkonites here."

"Not to mention down right impossible, since I would be running the other way otherwise." Harding added. "I got him for you, Inquisitor. The rest is up to you."

"Let's see why that spirit sent us here. Why Ameridan came here." Rajmael insisted.

The Inquisitor and the others followed the wide-eyed University Professor from the outer courtyard into the once occupied ruin. The temple was built into the mountainside with in an inner and outer courtyard guarding it in the same manner as a fortress. The inner courtyard was made of sturdy white stone, still holding strong after thousands of years. Judging from the early design of the metal spires erected from the inner and outer walls, this place was abandoned long before the Imperium's decline.

Gazing down on the courtyard was a menacing metallic depiction of a dark dragon that cast a great and foreboding shadow on the ground. It's blood-ruby eyes seemed to look down on them with a life of their own. This was Razikale, the Tevinter Old God of Mystery. In the shadow of Her great metallic wings was an slab of jet black stone, some kind of altar, where the Tevinters who came to this land would offer prayers and sacrifice to their draconic god. The altar was set between two metal spires that were as black as onyx.

Looking at the archaic monument, Rajmael couldn't help but feel a sense of dread wash over him. It was as if this ancient Shemlen god could actually see him. Even if he defeated Corypheus, how much longer would it be until the Old God of Mystery awoke in the bowels of the earth as an Archdemon and brought another Blight upon the world?

They reached the top of the stair way leading into the mountainside, into the shrine, and found the doorway blocked by some kind of magical barrier. Bright as snow in the light of day, and pulsing with life. It was a powerful spell indeed, Rajmael could feel the power emanating from the barrier. It has stood here for centuries. How strange. The energy that came from the barrier was not of Avvar shamanism or Tevinter sorcery. It was elven magic, like veilfire.

"Bull, whatever you're thinking, rethink it." Dorian warned. But it was too late. Without even thinking, Iron Bull swung his axe right at the barrier with all his might like it would shatter to pieces. Instead his axe just bounced right off the barrier and the shaft smacked Bull right in the head, leaving a print behind right down his face.

"Here, let me have a go!" Sera insisted. Before anyone had a chance to stop here, she threw one of her Fire Flasks at the barrier, not realizing the mistake she made. The flask bounced off the magical obstruction like it was made of rubber and flew back at Sera. "Oh shit!" Sera ducked her head out of the way and the flask smashed on the wall behind her, leaving a small bonfire where it landed.

"Honestly, you moronic thief!" Vivienne cursed agitatedly. "Is there not a brain in that gaping chasm between those pointed ears of yours?!"

"Oh, shut up, Madame Stuffy-Shit!" Sera snapped back. "I don't see you doing anything to get us through that stupid magic door!"

"Perhaps it's because I'd rather think about how to approach the problem rather than succumbing to whatever random impulse that happens to strike at the most inopportune times." Vivienne scoffed.

"Right. Is that what you did when the Inquisitor bitch smacked you for trying to play?" Sera sneered, earning a deathly glare from the Imperial Enchanter.

"Will the two of you do us all a favor and shut up?" Rajmael demanded. "This place is unbearable enough as it is without you two acting like three-year olds."

"We need to find a way past this barrier." Kenric urged. He observed the arch above the doorway and noticed the faintest glyph resting there. "Here! This glyph, elven I think. Must be some kind of clue. I think it's the word..."

"Elgara'il. Light." Rajmael finished. Without speaking what he had realized, he drew his sword and ignited the veilfire on the sylvanwood blade. In one quick move he slashed the barrier in half and dispersed it into a thousand shards of magical light that fluttered away like butterflies.

"Oh, well done. Well done, indeed." Kenric lauded as he entered and took in the dark but perfectly preserved inner shrine.

"Weird. This place doesn't look or feel like the rest of the temple." Scout Harding pointed out. "It's much more...serene."

"I can see why: Look at this!" Kenric pointed to the back of the chamber and there stood something that none of them would ever have suspected. A statue of Andraste kneeling in humble grace holding a pair of stone totems in the form of proud halla facing each other in Her outstretched hands. "A pair of shrines. This one is clearly Andrastian, albeit from an early age, likely Pre-Divine. But this one?" Kenric pointed to the hall statues. "This is obviously elven. One of their gods. Which one was it?" Kenric scratched his head and furrowed his brow while his mind searched for answers. "Uh, what was it? Every Mother Finds Druffalo Among Sleeping Juniper Groves...G-something. The one with the deer."

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Rajmael interrupted curiously.

"Oh, that's just a memory aid I use to remember the names of the elven gods." Kenric answered. "I mostly studied pre-Chantry history. I didn't really study the elves."

"Your aid is incomplete." Rajmael pointed out.

"What? But there's only...well, I suppose I forgot Fen'heral." Kenric admitted.

"Most people do." Solas commented rather indignantly.

"But this isn't him." Kenric continued. "It's one of the lady gods. I just can't put my finger on it."

"It's Ghilain'nan. The Mother of all halla." Rajmael answered. "My people pray to her for guidance when we go on difficult journeys, or when we're separated from our clan, and to watch over our halla. She was Telana's patron god."

"Oh, brilliant! Thank you. That would have bothered me all day." Kenric applauded.

"He stood here, read, scared and alone. He didn't want to go, but he knew he had to finish the mission." Cole trailed off.

"Two shrines for two lovers. Ameridan and Telana." Harding pieced together. "Inquisitor, you said Telana was an elf. Maybe Ameridan made this shrine in honor of her."

"Oh, yes that would make sense." Professor Kenric agreed. "The Chantry expunged all references to elves before the Exalted March on the Dales. They must have done the same thing to Telana. Art, history, literature. The Chantry even erased the Canticles of Thane Shartan and declared it heresy to even mention it. The only piece of art that depicts Shartan is a mosaic in the University of Orlais, but the Divine demanded that his ears be docked and forbade his name from being mentioned within the Chantry."

"Um, Professor? You're doing that thing again, where you're talking without thinking. Maybe you want to stop?" Harding urged.

"What? Oh, I, er...Sorry." Kenric apologized after remembering who he was talking to, and realizing that he was making him mad.

Dorian, Iron Bull, Blackwall and Varric all wisely stepped several paces away from the Inquisitor, realizing how pissed he was getting. Rajmael's jaw clenched so hard he could have cracked a coconut, and he gripped his sword handle so hard his knuckles were white as snow. And that thing in the back of his mind was screaming at him. "And you people wonder why Dalish elves are so hostile. It's because we can't stand the stink of your hypocrisy! To use faith and religion to rewrite history because it's inconvenient and further a hidden agenda is sickening!"

"Agreed." Cassandra spoke. "The Chant of Light should spread the truth, not suppress. I promise that when all is said and done, there will be reformations within the Chantry."

"Well, the important thing is that this shrine tells us the next step." Kenric finally interjected, trying to get back on subject, and maybe not have the Inquisitor mad at him. "This is not the burial site, that much is obvious."

Harding pointed to a small mound of blue flowers growing at the base of the shrine. "Those flowers are not native to this region."

"No they're not." Rajmael agreed. "These are Eternal Blues, elven roses. They're the same kind of roses I offer to my gods when I pray to them."

"Do you think they were left here as an offering to this shrine?" Harding suggested.

"Yes, that would make sense." Kenric agreed. "A night of prayer before going to battle with the dragon. But then where, where...We're missing something. What are we missing? Where did Ameridan go after he stopped here?"

"Maybe there's a clue or something laying around here?" Harding suggested. "Maybe we should try looking around."

Everyone started looking around the shrine, but with the dim light it was hard to find anything.

"Ooh. Inquisitor, take a look at this." Dorian called. He was standing in front of a strange metal construct with polygonal figures in front of it. "You see relics like this in many ancient Tevinter sites back home. These constructs were used a power sources to keep whole palaces lit and warm for years. Sadly, the only problem was turning them back on, which I don't know how to do."

Something about this ancient artifact caught Rajmael's eye. Over the metallic surface, he could see the faintest glimmer of colored light, but it was being blocked. Like window shades blacking out sunlight. How could Dorian not see this? Unless...Rajmael drew his sword, ignited the veilfire on the blade and waved it over the surface of the construct. The enchanted blade swept across the surface, revealing a veilfire rune hidden from the normal sight of mortals. The whole construct blazed with energy, and ignited both the spires by the altar with life.

"Oh, bravo, Inquisitor. Well done." Kenric praised.

Rajmael stared intently at the veilfire rune. Somehow he was able to see written words more than just the shape of the image. Like the rune was magically sending a message to his mind. "Professor, listen to this. Shartan 10:7. And Transfigurations 10:1?"

"Shartan is one of the Dissonant verses. Oh, how did it go? 'And before them, empty, outstretched lay the lands that led to the Gates of Minrathous'." Kenric quoted. "And Transfigurations is 'The Light shall lead Her safely through the paths of this world'." Kenric scratched his neck frustratingly. "Why these verses? Why would Ameridan take the time to carve this before going into battle?"

"_How_ could he have carved these before going into battle?" Rajmael asked more to the point. "This style of magic is elven. I was only able to spot that rune because I'm an elf. How did Ameridan know how to cast such subtle spells?"

"I'm curious as to how elven magic was able to activate Tevinter styled engineering." Dorian stated.

"Because it's actually all elven in origin." Solas answered stoically. "But please, do go on about the wonders of Tevinter magic."

An awkward look of embarrassment crept over Dorian's face. "Oh, well, no need. Er...let's move on. What were we talking about again?"

"Perhaps Telanna carved these out? Being an elven mage, it would have been a simple task." Cassandra suggested.

"Not likely, Seeker." Varric dejected. "Remember? Telanna was separated from the others at that island."

"Perhaps we'll find all the answers we seek at the end of this hunt." Kenric said hopefully.

"Wait. The Gates of Minrathous? My scouts reported another, bigger, Tevinter ruin within the Basin, guarded by a wall of ice." Scout Harding informed. "It's where the Jaws of Hakkon have made their home."

"I think I understand." Kenric spoke. "Ameridan must have had his elven mage seal the dragon at a site of great power!"

"I had my scouts take a closer look at that fortress, and there's no easy way of getting in." Harding informed. "Way too many Avvar, and that wall of ice is definitely magic."

"There must be some way past that wall that Ameridan must have used." Kenric insisted.

"Hold a moment." Dorian bade. "The Light shall guide her through the paths of this world? A wall of ice." Dorian's signature smile swept across his face and his eyes lit up brilliantly. "Sweet Andraste, I think I've got it!" The Tevinter mage dashed outside to the altar and pulled on several nearby levers making a giant tuning forklike contraption came out from beneath the altar and rested between the spires. The magic vibrating from the spires shot out in beams of energy and shot through the fork in a stream of pure magic. The beam shot forward over the river and through a giant metal marker in the form of an octagonal circle.

"Wonderful!" Kenric praised.

"I know I am." Dorian chuckled. "My father once showed me ancient temples with devices such as this. They used is to relay magical energy across great distances. This design is very similar."

"When the Imperium abandoned the fortress, they must have created the wall of ice...to...lock something behind?" Kenric continued.

"And every lock has a key." Harding agreed.

"Like those trail markers." Kenric pointed out. "Ameridan must have known how to use them. If they can melt the ice, then that must be where Ameridan sealed the dragon."

"So if we follow those markers and send the beam forward, it will...melt that ice-wall?" Blackwall asked.

"How can light destroy a wall of ice?" Cassandra questioned.

"Yeah. Wouldn't a sledgehammer be just as good?" Iron Bull agreed.

"Only magic can undo magic." Solas answered calmly. "And besides, I doubt the Hakkonites will simply let you smash their fortress with a sledgehammer."

"Well, let's follow them and see what we can find out." Rajmael stated.

"I'll escort Professor Kenric back to the forward camp." Harding informed. "If this magical ray of light does destroy that Hakkonite wall of ice, then I doubt they're going to be very happy. And we don't want be there when that happens."

While Scout Harding and Professor Kenric wen back to the Inquisition's base camp, Rajmael and the other pressed forward. As soon as they made it to one marker and activated it, the trail of light blasted forth and led them to the next one. Aside from the few giant spiders and gurguts that got in their way, they were able to quickly find and activate each of the trail markers and lead the beam of light towards the other side of the Basin. And then they reached the final marker, which was on a hill overlooking the Tevinter Ruin that was crawling with the Jaws of Hakkon.

The Hakkonites had not yet detected their presence. About twenty of them were standing guard in front the massive wall of ice as though they were protecting it from something. And they were all completely unaware of the Inquisitor was doing right now. Rajmael sensed an opportunity right here and a sinister grin crept across his face.

Rajmael whispered orders to his companions and made sure they would follow them, and then he casually made his way to the front of the occupied Tevinter fortress like he was taking an afternoon stroll.

"Look! It's the Inquisitor!" One of the Hakkonite sentries snarled. "Kill him!"

"WAIT!" Rajmael yelled. Amazingly, the Hakkonites stopped in their tracks and waited for a moment. Despite the fact their weapons were still clenched in their fists, Rajmael casually reached into his coat, pulled out his sylvanwood piped and started puffing it. "Now, I will accept your immediate surrender, and I promise you won't be harmed. But if you don't, then you'll all die right now."

"Are you serious?!" One of the Hakkonites asked disbelievingly.

"You'll die screaming, just so you know." Rajmael said between puffs of his pipe.

The Avvar extremists all looked at each other with confused looks. Did he really think that this would work? Was the Inquisitor crazy or stupid? What was this elf smoking in that pipe of his?

"Kill him for Hakkon's glory!" All the Hakkonites broke ranks to attack the crazy elf. The Inquisitor just stood there continuing to smoke his pipe, even with about a dozen pissed off Hakkonites charging him down with battle axes, swords and ice-magic.

Rajmael stared down his Avvarian assailants with a cocky grin on his face and slowly exhaled smoke from his nostrils. "That's far enough."

Up from the hill by the Tevinter trail marker, Cassandra pulled the nearby lever and the beam of magical energy burst from the marker and shot past the Hakkonites and hitting the ice-barrier protecting their fortress. The ice-wall made a sound like thunder rumbling as shook as it crashed like a wave of white down on the Hakkonites. Now instead of running to kill the Inquisitor, the Hakkonites were running for the lives to get away from their shattered ice-wall from crushing them. They didn't get very far, and that wall quickly became their grave.

They managed to bring down the wall and kill all the Hakkonites guarding it, and Rajmael didn't even have to lift a finger. But Rajmael was not very happy at this moment. They managed to bring the ice-wall, only to reveal the well fortified, actual wall and the Tevinter style siege gate, which were famous for being unassailable. The value of this victory was downgraded very quickly.

"Ha! What're you going to do now, little elf!?" One of the Hakkonites on the battlements mocked. "You're gods are weak! And you will see the full might of the Jaws of Hakkon when we destroy the Lowlands! Ha-ha-h...ghack!" The Hakkonite's laughter was cut short when a bolt of lightning flew off Rajmael's sword and struck him right in his open mouth, leaving behind a geyser of blood and torn flesh with wet meaty chunks flying where his head used to be.

"I'm waiting to be impressed." Rajmael said through his teeth with his pipe in his mouth and his sword in hand. He grudgingly walked back over to his companions, maybe they had an idea how to get through that door.

"We cannot get through that door." Dorian stated as fact. "Not without some ballistae hurdling boulders and barrels of flaming oil. Even then it might not be enough."

"Dorian's right." Iron Bull agreed. "That gate and those walls are built just like the ones in Minrathous. There's no way we're getting through that with what we've got now."

"And I'll bet you those Hakkonites are just waiting for us to try something." Blackwall added. "Probably got something nasty to drop on us if we try hammering through that door."

"I don't want things falling on me." Cole spoke. "My hat will get ruined."

"It would seem we've hit another hurdle in this endeavor." Vivienne commented dourly.

"Any suggestions?" Varric asked.

Rajmael thought for a moment and realized what they needed to do. It was the only option left to them right now. "Let's head back to Stone-Bear Hold. We'll ask Than Sun-Hair if she can aid us against the Hakkonites."

"Are you sure she'd be willing to bring her people into our fight?" Cassandra questioned.

"Her people and the Hakkonites didn't seem to be on friendly terms." Rajmael reminded. "And besides, I'm sure there's a certain blonde auger with wandering eyes that would love to have an opportunity to kick these Hakkonites' asses out of their throats."

"Ooh. And I'd love a chance to see her and those wandering eyes with the tits again." Sera giggled incessantly.

"Then we should make haste." Solas suggested. "I doubt these Jaws of Hakkon are going to wait much longer to make their move.

All of them marched away from the Jaws of Hakkon's hold before any more guards could come out and harry them. Their goal was so close and yet so difficult to reach. Ameridan's final resting place was just within their grasp, but these Hakkonites weren't making it easy. On the upside, Rajmael relished in the thought of having the chance to humiliate and defeat that arrogant son of a troll Gurn Harofsen. And if all went well, he could see what this Auger Siobahn was capable of. If she considered Aedan Cousland to be her brother, then what kind of devastation was she capable of unleashing? Rajmael had to find out.

**Language Codex:**

**Mo Dearthaire:** Avvar, translates as _"My brother"._

**Elgara'il:** Elven, roughly translates as _"Light"._

**Siobahn an Igraine O'Bear-Hold:** Avvar name-title, translates as _"Siobahn daughter of Igraine of Bear-Hold"._


	29. Breaking The Jaws: Part III

**Breaking the Jaws: Part III**

Rajmael and the others made their way back to Stone-Bear Hold in the hopes of getting their aid against the Hakkonites. Because of The Basin's location, it would be extremely difficult to move more soldiers and siege equipment here fast enough, and they needed to get into that Tevinter ruin immediately, and besides it seemed like the Avvar of Stone-Bear Hold were itching for a fight with their unfriendly neighbors. Especially Auger Siobahn of Bear Hold, she's all but begging for an excuse to shed Gurn Harofsen's blood. Siobahn Skinchanger stood silently and watched the two leaders with deep interest.

The Inquisitor stood once more stood in the Thane's furbished cave. Thane Sun-hair could see from the Lowland elf's face that he bore ill tidings. And there was not a doubt in her mind that it concerned the Jaws of Hakkon.

"Inquisitor." Svarrah Sun-Hair addressed.

"I need to get into the Tevinter ruin where the Jaws of Hakkon are festering. Will your clan aid me?" The Dalish elf said bluntly.

A look of sinister delight beamed in Siobahn's eyes and smiled fiendishly. Those had to be the sweetest words she heard the Inquisitor say since he arrived. Thane Sun-Hair on the other hand, did not share her fellow Avvar's enthusiasm.

"Nothing would please me more than to bathe my warhammer in Hakkonite blood, but I'm afraid you're putting me in a difficult position, Inquisitor." Svarrah answered. "We have sworn peace with the Jaws of Hakkon, and while they may not truly care for it, they have not broken their peace with us. Furthermore, we'd be obligated to go to their aid should they request it, but you have guest welcome here."

Rajmael was not convinced. "Yes...but?"

"It's no secret that the Jaws of Hakkon will eventually turn their blades against us, and thus far, you have proven yourself an honorable man. If you were to do a great service to use, one that outstrips our strained relationship with the Hakkonites, then we'd gladly aid you in your actions against them." The Thane explained.

"You would break your vow so easily for a favor?" Cassandra asked cautiously.

"I could say that all Avvar keep their oaths, that all Avvar hold their word sacred, and I would not be lying. But a clever thane knows how to find the holes in any promise." Svarrah chuckled. "We are all only blood and bone. Are your Lowland promises any more permanent? A promise is kept until it is broken, that is the way of things. I do not do this lightly, Chantry-Knight, but the Jaws of Hakkon are tiresome and are friends to very few. It would be good to get out of this oath."

"So what boon would be enough for your to disavow your oath with The Jaws of Hakkon?" Rajmael asked.

"Our Hold-Beast, Storvacker, has disappeared. She has not made herself known to the Auger or to anyone else in the Hold. Find her and we shall aid you against the Jaws of Hakkon."

The Thane's request seemed as dangerous as it was ridiculous to the rest of Rajmael's party. This was a request worth turning on the Jaws of Hakkon?

"Seriously?" Sera asked incredulously. "You want us to find a bear?"

"I've got to admit, that does seems pretty random." Iron Bull concurred. "Couldn't you just get a new one?"

"Storvacker isn't just a bear. She is our Hold-Beast." Svarah stated as fact. "She ties us to our gods and them to us. And to have her just taken from us is a terrible thing." The Thane looked to the Dalish Inquisitor. "I've heard that your gods were stolen from your people. Was that not a terrible thing? It is as that to us."

The Thane's request seemed as dangerous as it was ridiculous to the rest of Rajmael's party. This was a request worth turning on the Jaws of Hakkon?

"Seriously?" Sera asked incredulously. "You want us to find a bear?"

"I've got to admit, that seems pretty random." Iron Bull concurred. "Couldn't you just get a new one?"

"Isn't finding their wandering pet beneath us, Inquisitor?" Vivienne complained. "Surely we could do better than finding their bear?"

"Ah. She is like your anchor to the spirits that watch over your people." Solas surmised.

"I know more about this world than I know of Spirits." Svarah confessed. "They are our gods, not yours. Let it be enough that she is extremely important to us, and we must have her back."

"Your relationship with your Hold-Beast sounds like my people's relationship with our Halla." Rajmael pointed out. "The Dalish are nothing without the halla, and your Hold cannot stand without your Hold-Beast."

"Is it unusual for your...spirit bear to wander off? Does she have a pen? Do you feed her?" Blackwall asked.

"Storvacker is not a pet, Lowlander. She does live in the Keep with us, and we do bring her offerings, but not enough to where she won't hunt for herself." The Thane answered. "What's unusual is that she has not returned as she always does after she's hunted."

"How do you know she's not dead?" Iron Bull insinuated. "I mean, you've seen the big-ass animals that live here. Isn't it possible she got into a fight with another big-ass animal with teeth?"

"I doubt that, horn-man." Siobahn spoke. "Storvacker is a warrior and not easily slain. And besides, if she was dead the Auger or I would have sensed it. No, she is alive, somewhere in the Basin."

"Can you not find this bear on your own? Why ask our aid?" Cassandra asked curiously.

"Under any other circumstances, we would, Chantry-Knight, but these circumstances are dire." Thane Sun-Hair answered embarrassedly. "I have no doubt that Gurn Harofsen is watching us for any weakness, and the loss of our Hold-Beast would not only give him the opportunity to attack, but it would give him the right to do so in the eyes of all the other Avvar Holdings. No clan would ever let their Hold-Beast just disappear, and any that would deserves to be attacked. So for the sake of saving face, we must continue as though Storvacker were still amongst us."

"A grim situation indeed. Where was she last seen?" Rajmael asked.

"Our huntmaster said he last saw her tracks by the Karsdotten River. No surprise. She often treks over there this time of year to fish for salmon." Svarrah informed.

"Then we'll begin our search there."

**Later By The Kulsdotten River...**

The Inquisitor and his companions made their way to the river where this bear, Storvacker was last seen. Rajmael could see why the Hold-Beast would frequent this area: the salmon here were the size of dogs! Maybe it was because the Veil was thin here, or maybe it was just natural, but everything was bigger in the Basin. Maybe it was something in the water?

During his years as Keeper Deshanna's First, Rajmael would often go into the forest to hunt alongside Nethras and Evanura. The tracking skills he learned from them would be useful here. They found a set of tracks by the river, obviously a bear's but bigger. They must have been Storvacker's paw prints. Strange. The prints walked away from the river and deeper into the marsh, like she was following or looking for something else. The tracks stopped abruptly beneath a tree and judging from the how the ground was flattened and the imprint left behind, Storvacker dropped herself her to sleep.

There was something out of place here. Right under the tree were the gobbled remains of what smelled like honey cakes. Rajmael picked up one of the crumbs and sniffed it. There was another scent coming from the cake. Something that a hungry bear wouldn't notice thanks to the sweet smell of honey. Now Rajmael knew what happened.

"Something wrong, Inquisitor?" Dorian finally asked.

"I think I know what happened to our missing bear." Rajmael answered. "Someone left out some honey cakes for Storvacker and laced them with sleeping dugs. And the people who did it were obviously expert hunters. They left no tracks behind them."

"Why drug and capture a bear when they could have just easily killed it?" Blackwall asked.

"Well, that's just great. Now how are we supposed to find it?" Varric complained.

"Whoever took Storvacker, hid their tracks because they don't want to be seen, but there's no way they could move a bear that size without being noticed, especially with the Stone-Bear Hold's hunters looking for her." Rajmael scrutinized. "They would have had to take her somewhere close by, a cave or something. Somewhere like...over there."

Rajmael pointed over to a cave entrance none of them noticed through the thick foliage. It was carved right into the side of the stone hill, and none of them probably would have seen it were it not for the fact that there was a large metal door with the exterior made to look like the hill side, but it had been left wide open. Someone was careless.

They carefully, silently, made their way inside the cave. No guards. That meant that someone would probably be coming back soon. They'd have to be quick. When they reached the back of the cave, they found several ancient Tevinter styled cages. Was this a dungeon of some kind?

"She remembers falling asleep, then waking up. Cramped, beaten and captured. She is angry and wants to be free." Cole trailed off.

"Andraste's flammin' knickers!" Sera cursed at seeing the sole occupant of this dungeon.

A booming growl echoed through the dungeon and powerful claws smashed against the bars inside one of the cells. Everyone, even Iron Bull, was taken aback by the incredible size of Storvacker. Rajmael now realized what Siobahn meant by Storvacker being no ordinary bear. She was bigger than any Great Bear that they had ever encountered. If she stood on her hind legs, she could easily dwarf Iron Bull. What did the Avvar feed her? She was painted with Avvarian designs on her fur that signified her status as a Hold-Beast. The size of her claws and maw was enough to shame any wyvern and varghest that was currently living. Just one swipe of her claws would instantly mean death for whoever attacker her, if her teeth didn't tear their head off first. How the hell could anyone put her in there?

She growled and hollered viciously, pounding her enormous paws against the bars to get out. What was this cell made out of that it could keep a beast such as her confined? There was a winch by her cage, it must be how her captors put her in there, and it would also be here way out. Rajmael cautiously, and deliberately, walked over to the winch and made sure Storvacker saw what he was doing.

"What're you doing?!" Sera gasped. "You wanna become this thing's dinner?"

"I hope this bear knows that you're trying to help it." Varric spoke as he slowly backed away.

"She knows I mean to help her." Rajmael assured. "She means none of us any harm. Right?" The massive bear looked at him with a sense of knowing in her big brown eyes. The bears were sacred to the Avvar, and to his people they were guardians of knowledge, favored by Dirthamen. He cranked back the winch and quickly raised the bars, allowing the giant ursine beast to move free.

Just standing on all fours, Storvacker was head-high to Rajmael. With shoulders that could shame a bronto, her whole mass was a giant mountain of muscle with claws that could easily rip the horns off an ogre, she could easily rip Rajmael's head off if he allowed it. But instead, she graciously licked the Inquisitor's hand and walked her way out of the cave. They all followed after the bear, and the instant they made it out of the cave they were met by Storvacker's kidnappers: The Jaws of Hakkon. Big surprise.

"The Inquisitor has freed the sacrifice!" One of the Hakkonite warriors snarled with an axe clenched in his fist. "Kill 'em!"

Rajmael and the others just stood back and watched as the gargantuan, angry, previously caged bear mauled her captors to death. And this time, there were no honey cakes to save them. She disemboweled three of them with one swipe of her vicious claws. She grabbed one of them by the head in her powerful jaws and swung him like a ragdoll, snapping his neck like a twig, and threw him at his comrades, breaking their neck in the process. The archers shot their ice-enchanted couldn't even pierce her thick hide and course fur, it only made Storvacker mad. Within seconds, the Hakkonite's realized the often fatal folly of invoking a hungry bear's anger and were quickly reduced to shredded slabs of torn flesh and broken bones that would be feasted on by the crows.

**Later, Back at Stone-Bear Hold...**

Rajmael and the others had arrived back at the Avvar village with Storvacker accompanying them. The entire Hold was a volatile mix of relieved joy and heinous outrage. Thane Sun-Hair was feeling outrage to the homicidal capacity.

"Goat-shagging, piss-for-blood, dung-eating Hakkonite chicken-shits!" The angry Thane spat. "Thank you, Inquisitor. You have done my people a great service. My hunters saw what you and Storvacker did to the Hakkonites who captured her. In trapping Storvacker, the Jaws of Hakkon have broken their peace-oath with Stone-Bear Hold. Our blades are yours."

"Thank you, Thane Sun-Hair. The Jaws of Hakkon have greviously offended both our peoples." Rajmael spoke.

"More so than ye might think." Siobahn whispered grimly, her face veiled with foreboding.

"What were the Hakkonites trying to do with your Hold-Beast, anyway?" Cassandra asked.

The Thane became just as grim and dark as the Skin-Chaner's, and there was a glint of shame in both women's eyes. "It is not something you will like. Indeed, it is something very few Avvar would ever speak of, let alone tell to any Lowlander...but you must hear it. You've earned the right to know."

"Many generations ago, the first fools to call themselves The Jaws of Hakkon sought to bind the god of winter and war, and wage war on the Lowlands." Siobahn recounted dismally.

"Wait a minute...when you say 'god' do you mean the kind you bow down and worship kind of god?" Varric asked disbelievingly. "That kind of god?"

"Yes. Hakkon Wintersbreath, bringer of the cold winds and harbinger of war." Thane Svarrah answered with reverent respect.

"That cannot be." Cassandra denied. "There are no other gods, save for the Maker."

"Right, what she said." Sera agreed. "There can't be the Maker and a bunch of other gods running around, right?"

Cassandra was a logical woman who preferred to use her pragmatism and headstrong attitude to perform her duties as a Seeker, and relied on her faith to always answer what she didn't understand. But Cassandra had no way of comprehending or dealing with something that defied both her logic and her faith. Sera, on the other hand, preferred to keep her world small and if there was something that would force her to expand her horizons, she'd deny it's very existence until it went away.

"Say that all ye like, but the gods of the Frostbacks were here long before your Maker, and they'll be here even after the world ends." Siobahn responded indifferently.

"How does someone, anyone, bind a god?" Rajmael asked trying to keep on track.

"With lots of blood, and foolish rituals. Rituals that require a powerful sacrifice, like what they going to do Storvacker." Siobahn answered. "And though ye have given them pause, they will try again. Ages ago, the first Jaws of Hakkon did the same. They brought their god to life to destroy the Lowlands. Their foolish actions lost Hakkon to all Avvar, and now Gurd Harofsen seeks to set him free and start the madness again."

"What do you mean that their actions lost Hakkon to all Avvar?"

"When they bound him to mortal form, he became blood and bone of this world." Siobahn answered. "He could no longer hear prayers, nor speak to the augers. All he could do was kill. And then he simply vanished instead of dying. It was as if he was rendered mute, lost for ages."

"If they sought to free Hakkon from his mortal prison, I could understand. But using him as a battering ram to attack the Lowlands is a fool's task." Svarrah lamented. "The gods belong in the land of dreams where they may help guide our people."

"What mortal form did the original Hakkonites bind their god in?"

Than Sun-Hair laughed as though the Inquisitor was joking. "Ha! Why, the only mortal form befitting the god of war, Inquisitor: a dragon, of course!"

"A dragon?! Are you absolutely sure of that?" Suddenly everything Rajmael was looking for and everything he had learned fell together like a perfect puzzle. Now it all made sense.

"It's not something any Avvar would forget. The Jaws of Hakkon certainly haven't. Why?"

"Eight-hundred years ago, Inquisitor Ameridan came here in search of a dragon that was destroying the Lowlands." Rajmael answered. "A dragon that came down from the mountains accompanied by Avvar warriors. A dragon large and powerful enough to rival an Archdemon. And it seems neither the Inquisitor or the dragon came back from that encounter."

"Ah. Your Inquisitor Ameridan must have been a great warrior indeed to have faced and stopped Hakkon Wintersbreath himself." Svarrah praised.

Rajmael was quite surprised. "You have no problem that a prominent Chantry figure killed your god."

"Your last Inquisitor did not kill Hakkon. That would have been easier, for he would have been reborn and returned to us." Svarrah clarified. "And besides, I find no fault with a man fighting to protect his home and people, and have nothing but respect for a warrior brave enough to face down a god. Not so different from you, I suppose, Inquisitor."

"If the Jaws of Hakkon seek to revive their god to wage war on the Lowlands, then we must stop them now, and find out how Inquisitor Ameridan stopped Hakkon in the first place."

"Then let us gather our forces, and we shall form a battle plan together." Svarrah Sun-Hair rose to ready her men, and sinister smile crept across Siobahn Skin-Changer's heart-shaped face.

**A Short Time Later...**

With Stone-Bear Hold's warriors armed and ready, Rajmael and his company met back up with Thane Sun-Hair and Siobahn. In place of his absent councilors who were back at Skyhold, Rajmael brought in both Scout Harding and Professor Kenric for any tactical input. Both of them had done much in the Inquisition's mission to find Ameridan's resting place, and deserved to know what the plan for its final outcome.

"Your scout and your skald have arrived Inquisitor. We can begin planning for the final assault." Svarrah announced.

"Oh, I like the sound of 'skald' much better than 'Professor'." Kenric admitted excitedly.

"Ahem. Professor, you're doing that thing again." Scout Harding reminded.

"Oh, right. Well, ahem, everything we've found out about Ameridan suggest that he never emerged from that Tevinter fortress where the Hakkonites are." The Professor stated.

"If that is where your last Inquisitor defeated Hakkon, then that is where Thane Harofsen must perform the rite to free him." Thane Sun-Hair added.

"Then we have to get in there and stop this ritual before it can be completed." Rajmael asserted. "I'm not sure the world could handle another godlike figure with a dragon running around."

"You really have no problem with us killing your god?" Scout Harding asked curiously.

"Ha. Gods cannot truly die, Stone-Child, only reborn." Siobahn laughed. "And it would seem Hakkon could really use a good rebirthing."

"If you say so."

"With the ice-wall destroyed, the fortress is open to attack." Svarrah pointed out. "And without Storvacker, they cannot bind Hakkon to another vessel. You have disrupted their plans and struck a serious blow against them. Now is the time to strike before they have time to recover."

"They already trying." Scout Harding informed. "I've already got most of our men protecting the shrine from Hakkonites who want to restore the wall."

"The Tevinters who built that fortress made it to last." Rajmael groaned. "And we simply don't have the time or any viable passes to bring in more men or any engines to lay a siege."

"A siege? That won't be necessary." Thane Sun-Hair assured.

Kenric also saw their dilemma. "I'm no warrior, but with Scout Harding's men guarding the shrine and no way to breach the walls...?"

"Lowlanders...Why not simply _climb_ the walls?" The Thane laughed.

"Your warriors can get over those walls before the Hakkonites can stop them?" Harding asked skeptically.

"This is not a war, Stone-Daughter. This is a raid, something my warriors are masters of." Svarrah assured with full confidence. "We strike at night, clad lightly. We climb the walls, and open the gates for you from the inside."

"I can have our forces feign a retreat, that should make the Hakkonites confident enough to draw more men out the fort and away from the ritual." Harding said confidently.

"If we're going to be attacking Avvar, we may as well fight like Avvar. Let's finish this." Rajmael asserted eagerly. "While your men climb the walls, we'll draw their attention by attacking the front gate. That give your men an ample distraction."

"I'll be joining ye, if ye don't mind." Siobahn stated with fervent anticipation. "I want to hear Gurd Harofsen's screams as you send him to the Lady, and I'm going to remember that sound every night when I go to sleep. And I've got the perfect distraction to help get those door opened for ye."

Rajmael wasn't sure who he was more scared of right now, the prospect of fighting a god-possessed dragon, or just being around Siobahn. Now he could definitely see her being the bond-sister to Aedan Cousland. And he dreaded what kind of distraction she had in mind.

**Later that night, at the gates of the Tevinter Fotress...**

The Inquisitor and his company hid in the shadows of night, ready to begin their final assault on the Jaws of Hakkon. The warriors of Stone-Bear Hold moved swiftly and silently as they began to scale up the fortress walls like thieves in the night. Now was the time to attack.

Siobahn approached Rajmael. "Before anything begins, ye must take these. Yer lives may depend on them." She handed him a satchel full of vials containing a strange blue liquid. "If that fool Gurd Harofsen is truly going to summon the spirit of Hakkon Wintersbreath, then he will bathe the whole ruin in ice-magic to keep ye from getting close to him. These salves will give yer bodies the strength to fight his enchantments."

Rajmael held one of the vials in his hand looked at blue glowing contents. He could feel both magic and a strange warmth emanating from it. "What exactly is this made from?"

"Probably best ye don't know. Because it may have some bogfisher blubber, gurgut stomach acids and some whiskey for that extra kick."

"Wait, what?!"

But before Rajmael could give any word of protest, Siobahn was already making her move. She walked towards the front gate and began to casually cast off her clothing.

"What in the Maker's name is she doing?!" Cassandra couldn't believe her eyes.

"Stripping down naked or so it would seem." Dorian answered blithely.

"I see some of the tales of the Avvar barbarians aren't exaggerations." Solas observed disinterestedly.

"Ugh. These savages have no sense of decency." Vivienne groaned.

"She wants people to watch. If they look at her, then they won't see what she's doing." Cole whispered with his eyes also stuck on Siobahn.

"Normally you have to pay to see something like this." Blackwall commented.

"I know a certain Rivaini pirate who would literally murder to be seeing some of this action." Varric chuckled.

"Shut up! You're ruining the show." Sera hissed.

"Oh, yeah, that's the stuff. Take it all off slowly...make us forget our troubles." Iron Bull sighed lecherously. "Oh, I wish I wasn't wearing any armor right now."

The cold air seemed to have no effect on her, as she wore only enough august ram leather clothing to barely cover her now perky breasts and nether regions. Rajmael could hear Iron Bull, Sera, Varric and even Cole breathing heavy just watching her strut. The moonlight shimmered off the sultry mage's pale skin and golden hair as she swaggered her curvaceous hips, and with every step she took she purposely showed off her long, supple legs. Siobahn stopped in front of the gates and posed before it, showing off her generous feminine assets to her would-be victims on the battlements.

"Ohhh Hakkonites! Come out and play-yyy!" Siobahn called with mocking desire.

"Ha-Ha-Ha! What is this?!" A hulking Hakkonite laughed boastfully from the battlements. He jumped down from the fortress walls right in front of Siobahn, leaving a small crater where he landed. "Have you come to offer yourself to Hakkon, you soft piece of mink?"

"I've got this unbearable hunger that is just driving me mad. I was hoping one of you big strong Hakkonites could...satisfy it." Siobahn pouted her lips and batted her eyes. She leaned forward, giving the towering Hakkonite a clear view of her bountiful cleavage.

While Siobahn was distracting the Hakkonites, and Inquisition, her kin was skillfully climbing the walls and slitting the throats of the distracted guard. Rajmael noticed that Iron Bull and Sera were both getting nosebleeds from watching Siobahn do her job, while Cassandra, Solas and Vivienne looked away from the shameful display. Blackwall also turned his head away, but his eyes kept darting back to the scene with blushing cheeks. Cole actually couldn't take his eyes away; now that he was a real boy, he was filled with natural curiosities. And Dorian actually seemed genuinely impressed with the Avvar mage's tactic.

The muscle-bound guard was now breathing hard and boldly cusped one of Siobahn's perky breasts. "Oh, I'd be more than happy to satisfy any hunger you've got."

"Really? Oh, well, let me thank you properly." Siobahn clasped the Hakkonite's rough hand to her bosom and brought his course-bearded face closer to hers. Everyone watched in shock at what happened within a split second. The lecherous Hakkonite didn't even have time to react when Siobahn morphed into a giant bear and bit his head right off.

"FORWARD!" Rajmael's order ripped the night silence apart and everyone charged the fortress.

"We're under attack! Sound the alar-hrgkh!" The remaining guards were cut off when the raiders of Stone-Bear Hold slit their throats.

With the guards taken care of, they opened the doors to the rest of their forces. And none too soon. More Hakkonites emerged from the fortress when they realized what was happening. Soon the Hakkonites came pouring out of the ruin like maggots from a dead carcass, but thankfully, they were met by the full might of Stone-Bear Hold and their secret weapon: a certain really big, really pissed off bear named Storvacker.

With both their Hold-Beast and the Skin-Changer leading their charge, the warriors of Stone-Bear Hold lanced through the gates and engaged their blasphemous rivals. Storvacker attacked the men who dared to try and make a sacrifice out of her, mauling and goring them with her claws and teeth. Siobahn morphed her form from bear to wolf and to eagle, and crushed the bones, tore the flesh and ripped throats of her enemies with claw, fang and talon.

Thane Sun-Hair led her men against their Hakkonite rivals with her massive bear-headed maul. She demonstrated her legendary warrior status as she swung her war hammer with speed and dexterity that broke the Hakkonites' bodies and smashed their skulls. Tonight she would remind the Jaws of Hakkon why Stone-Bear Hold was not to be trifled with.

"Go now, Inquisitor!" Thane Sun-Hair yelled. "Stop Harofsen's madness before he summons Hakkon. We will make his followers pay the blood-price." Svarah, Storvacker and Sionahn led their brothers against the Hakkonites, breaking their bones, mauling their bodies, and ripping their limbs. They would make the Hakkonites realize the folly of their arrogance. They would find no glory in fighting against Stone-Bear Hold, only blood, death and pain.

The battle played out much like a one-sided barroom brawl: jerks being swarmed on by the men they pissed off and their friends. Bodies and debris flew everywhere the but the Hakkonites weren't smart enough to know when to run away, getting knocked down and trying to get back up, only to get knocked down again. While the Avvar were having the time of their life, rest of them tried moving out of their by keeping their heads down. While their Avvar allies took care of their enemies in the courtyard, Rajmael led his team straight to the ruin.

Once inside, the instant the door closed behind them, all of them felt the power of the forces Gurd Harofsen was playing with like an ignorant child. The entire ruin, the very air itself, was gripped in the frigid, uncaring grasp of the harshest winter. The cold bit into them like a hungry animal and seeped into the very being until they could feel their bones starting to freeze inside of them.

"This is cold is magical, some kind of last defense. It will kill us if we do not hurry." Solas shivered through his teeth.

"Everyone take one of these vials now!" Right now none of them cared if disgusting smelling salves were made, right now they'd drink dawkspawn blood and horse shit if it could help them fight this biting cold. They held their noses and downed every drop of the blue liquid. An explosion of warmth erupted inside them and crept through their whole bodies, causing the cold gripping their bodies to disappear.

"And here I though accepting strange drinks from strange people only led to me waking up in a barn with my horse and clothes stolen." Blackwall sighed as his body warmed up.

"We have to get moving. Gurd Harofsen has to be here somewhere." Cassandra asserted.

"Wait. Listen..." Rajmael urged.

There was a growling voice being carried by the cold winds and echoing throughout the ruin like the voices of a battle march. It was Harofsen himself reciting some kind of song. Or an incantation.

**_We sing the song of Savage Hakkon_**

**_Born in battle, bloody-bladed_**

**_Meet the might of Mountain-Father_**

**_Crush the Creed of Korth the Callow_**

**_Leave the Lady lost and lonely_**

**_Scour the sky of spirits sallow_**

**_Gurd Harofsen, called the Cutter, Wyver-Slayes, Lowland-Bane_**

**_Begs mighty Hakkon bring his body bloody blessings, cold and pain!_**

"He's trying to summon the spirit of Hakkon into his own body!" Solas realized.

"Is he _insane_?!" Cassandra couldn't believe any willingly doing such a thing.

"I hope that was a rhetorical question, Seeker. Of course he's insane, why else would he be doing this?" Dorian said sarcastically.

"We have to end this now! I've already got one would-be god to deal with, I don't need another running around fucking things up." Rajmael spat.

The further they went into the ruin, the colder it became, but thanks Siobahn's ice salves keeping them warm, the ice-wards the Hakkonites set up no longer had any effect on them. The ruin was lightly guarded. Most of the Hakkonites had been drawn out and were fighting the Inquisition forces and the Avvar. Harofsen must have thought that his wards would be enough to keep out any possible intruders, but he would most likely be surrounded by his own guards to protect the ritual.

They got closer to the ritual site where Harofsen's voice became louder as he continued to recite his damned ritualistic prayer. They all looked down towards the ritual site and where beheld in awe and horror at the site of the ritual. A dragon of epic proportions magically frozen in midair. It was like a Great Mistral, only even greater. It's folded wings were of such immense size and width it could uproot trees just by flapping them. Its scales were white a snow with jagged black stripes like claw marks over its body, just like the war pain the Hakkonites wore. Of all the dragon Rajmael had encountered in his time with the Inquisition, the only one that could compare to this awesome beast was the false Archdemon that Corypheus commanded.

They all looked down at the bottom floor where the ritual was being conducted and noticed that a swirling vortex of magic was being emitted from something resting on top of the huge rock just beneath the immense beast. Whatever spell that was done, it was strong enough to hold back a god-possessed dragon. Right below the dragon stood Thane Gurd Harofsen standing on a summoning glyph surrounded by his remaining guards while his spell-binders circling him and reciting their incantations. While he screamed his prayer at the top of his lungs, the mages were activating a spell that seemed to be siphoning the spirit of Hakkon out of the dragon and guiding it into Harofsen's own being. The bastard was actually crazy enough to do it.

**_We sing the song of Savage Hakkon_**

**_Born in battle, bloody-bladed_**

**_Meet the might of Mountain-Father_**

**_Crush the Creed of Korth the Callow_**

**_Leave the Lady lost and lonely_**

**_Scour the sky of spirits sallow_**

**_Gurd Harofsen, called the Cutter, Wyver-Slayes, Lowland-Bane_**

**_Begs mighty Hakkon bring his body bloody blessings, cold and pain!_**

The Inquisition all charged down to the ritual site with everything they had. Harofsen's guards met their assault to give their mages more time, but it didn't matter, the inquisition did not make it this far just to lose now. Vivienne conjured a wall of ice around some of the Hakkonites, funneling them into a narrow pass. they tried to get away from it but forced back by Blackwall and Cassandra, making them easy targets for Sera and Varric's arrows. One of the bruisers managed to jump out from between the walls of fire and steel and was met by Iron Bull. Iron Bull swung high and Cassandra came in low, making the hammer-swinging barbarian flip ass over kettle.

Cole and Rajmael found themselves surrounded by a group of Hakkonite rogues. They shattered vials at their feet that made them disappear in puffs of smoke. But it didn't matter. Cole threw several knives into the rock formation on his right flank and three Hakkonites fell out of the shadows dead with his knives stuck in their hearts and heads. Rajmael stood silently and waited, his sword sheathed. His heightened Arcane Warrior senses allowed him to sense where they were coming. Four rogue burst from out of nowhere, pouncing at him from all sides with their ice-enchanted daggers. They landed on him and plunged their daggers deep into his body, or so they thought. All they hit was his afterimage as he dashed behind them, then through them with one, two, three, four deft strokes, and all fell to the ground with their heads rolling off their shoulders.

While the others were fighting through the remainder of Harofsen's guards, Dorian and Solas tried to disrupt his mage's conjuring. The Hakkonite mages had set up some kind of barrier to protect the ritual. It needed to come down. Solas concentrated his will on the Veil surrounding the mages, trying to dispel their enchantment and disrupt their connection to the Fade and bring down the barrier. Dorian had an advantage over these Southern barbarian mages; while Solas tried to interrupt their spell-binding, he conjured fire glyphs around them, and they were too busy to notice. The glyphs exploded into balls of flame that caught on the Hakkonite mages like paper. With mages' concentration broken, Solas was able to bring down the barrier.

"Inquisitor, now!" Solas shouted.

With an attack now open, Rajmael performed a magnificent leap into the air and came down on Gurd Harofsen with all his might and power behind his sword. The Thane grinned mockingly at the elven Inquisitor with a powerful, twisted gleam in his eyes. The Enasalin barely made contact with Gurd Harofsen when everything around both warriors exploded in flash of bright light, sending Rajmael flying back in the air and landed hard on the ground, his sword knocked out of his hand.

Rajmael staggered to his feet and tried to focus his vision so he could see straight. When the smoke cleared, a sense of shock and horror filled the frigid air at what they all found. The muscle-bound, axe-wielding giant had been replaced by a massive, ghoulish monstrosity carrying a sword a long as it was tall with the blade inscribed with heinous runes, and a pair of haunting blues eyes over a set of sharp teeth in a draconic helm. The spirit of Hakkon had turned Gurd Harofsen into a Revenant.

_**"Ha-Ha-Ha! I WILL BRING COLD AND DEATH TO THE LOWLANDS! COME! FACE YOUR DEATH, INQUISITOR!"** _The demon-possessed Avvar challenged. The Revenant extended its mailed claw at the Inquisitor and used a telekinetic attack to pull Rajmael on to his extended sword, to impale him on his grotesque blade.

If it wasn't for Rajmael's Shimmering Shield he would have been pinned like a butterfly on the Abomination's sword. He was held up in midair by Harofsen's newfound powers as he tried to pull him onto his sword and skewer him, but his Shield held strong. Rajmael increased his Shield's power while the Revenant pulled even harder to stick his blade through the captured elf. The Inquisitor could feel the tip of the icy cold weapon breaking through his magical defense, the more he resisted, the more powerfully the Revenant thrusted his sword. Rajmael was burning too much mana trying to keep his Shield up, had to get out of the creature's grip.

A shrill cry echoed throughout the ruin and a beautiful giant golden eagle flew out of nowhere and descended on Harofsen. It's powerful talons dug deep into the possessed warrior's face, shredding chunks of flesh of his skull. The Revenant screamed in rage and smacked the offensive raptor right out of the air. The eagle fell to the ground unconscious. The eagle's form melted away and revealed it's true form as Siobahn Skin-Changer.

Thanks to Siobahn's bravery, Rajmael was now free of that telekinetic attack and able to summon his sword back into his hand.

"Eat shit, Harofsen!" The enraged Arcane Warrior threw an arc of veilfire from his sword and into the Revenant's face. Harofsen screamed in enraged agony and lost his telekinetic grip on the Dalish elf.

The elf squared off against the towering Abomination, his sword held tightly in his grip. He attacked with magically enhanced speed, but Harofsen matched it and kept him at bay with the length of his sword. Sparks flew off both the leaders' magical blades as the slashed back and forth between each other, Rajmael trying to get close enough to hit the Revenant and Harofsen keeping him off balance while trying to cut the Inquisitor in two.

"Rajmael!" Cassandra rushed over to her lover to aid in his fight. The Seeker felt the magic pulsating inside the Abomination like a sick fever and summoned her power to purge it with holy light. Perhaps she could weaken the spirit of Hakkon that possessed Harofsen. But it was to no avail, the foul magic possessing the Avvar war leader was too strong, and the corrupted spirit of Hakkon clung to him like a disease.

Rajmael and Cassandra tried combining their efforts and attacks, but it was still too difficult. The Revenant swung its freakishly long sword at them both simultaneously with incredible speed and dexterity and blocked their attacks with its demonic shield. Harofsen used a telekinetic push to knock Cassandra away and resumed his attack on the Inquisitor. Rajmael masterfully dodged and parried each attack, but Harofsen recovered and continued his assault.

This couldn't go on much longer. Rajmael could feel the draught Siobahn gave them was starting to wear off, and the possessed Harofsen was emitting some kind off powerful cold enchantment that would freeze them all if this kept going. They had to end it now, but none of them could get close enough so long as it had that damned sword. And then Rajmael remembered the technique Nethras' father taught him when he was young.

Rajmael held his stance once more, his sword burning with veilfire and waited for the exact moment. Harofsen lunged forward with his sword like a lance, aiming to finish what he started and impale the elven Inquisitor. Time slowed down for Rajmael, and just barely moved out of the sword's devastating strike. And in three moves, he flawlessly performed the technique he was taught. He blocked the sword away from him, then struck it upwards, then finished the attack with a downwards stroke with all his might behind it, and his sword burning like a bonfire. The Revenant's sword shattered like glass. Junnarel would have been proud.

"_Everyone attack NOW!_" Rajmael ordered. Harofsen may have had immense power now, but that didn't mean he knew how to use it. The Inquisitor and his followers would show him what true power was, and why fighting gods was there specialty.

Dorian reached out into the Fade and summoned several wisps through the Veil and placed them into the corpses of several dead Hakkonites. The undead minions picked up their weapons and viciously attacked their former leader. They managed to stick their weapons into Harofsen before he cleaved them open with his mailed claws. Dorian followed through with a barrage of fire spells.

After witnessing their leader break the Revenant's sword, Blackwall swung his ancient Avvarian mace and broke the neck of the Hakkonite guard he was fighting. Blackwall let that strutting ponce Dorian get all the hits in on this bastard. He flashed a knowing glance at Iron Bull, and both knew what they were going to do.

"Iron Bull. Move on my strike!" Blackwall called.

"Got it!" Iron Bull answered.

Blackwall clenched the Thunderstrike in his hand, the lightning enchantment crackled with the might of a thunderstorm, and threw it with all his might. The ancient Avvar relic flew like a comet right at the Revenant. Harfosen blocked the weapon with his shield and screamed a shrill cry as the Avvar mace bounced off the shield was destroyed in an explosion of blue lightning. With no time to think, Blackwall quickly picked up his mace and joined in Rajmael and Cassandra's attack.

Not seconds after Blackwall's attack destroyed Harofsen's shield, Iron Bull jumped off a boulder and dove at the possessed Avvar with his axe, to cleave his skull in half. But Harofsen quickly regenerated and caught Iron Bull in midair by the neck.

"Kid, your turn!" Iron Bull yelled and planted his massive fist into the Revenant's rotting face.

Cole jumped out of the shadows and jumped on Harofsen's back, repeatedly planting his daggers deep into the enemy's body.

"You will not hurt any more people!" Cole yelled with every stab of his blades. He stabbed his dagger into Harofsen's neck and forced him to raise his head up.

Several arrows flew from Sera's bow and landed in Gurd Harofsen's chest. Sera ran up to him and nimbly jumped up each of the arrows like they were stepping posts and smashed one of he Fire Flasks in his face. Harofsen's whole skull became a big ball of fire. "Hope yer hungry, arse-biscuit!"

"Bianca, introduce yourself!" Varric launched one of those anti-cold salves Siobahn gave them into the Abomination's burning face. If this bastard was made of cold, then having that salve in his face probably was going to feel too good.

Vivienne held her staff firmly in her hand and prepared her spell. She knew full well that her trademark ice spells would have no effect on this possessed savage, she needed to do something else. It had been some time, but she still remembered how to use her ethereal blade in her training as a Knight-Enchanter. The Imperial Enchanter drew out her spirit-sword and activated it's magical blade. Not wanting to get caught between one of her fellows in the melee, she threw her ethereal blade at the Abomination and stuck right through its ribs, causing the creature even more damage before the blade dissipated.

Solas could feel the spirit of Hakkon dwelling within Gurd Harofsen like a virus, it's corrupted presence polluting the Avvar chieftain's whole being. Despite the damage his comrades were dealing the creature, it would recover because of how powerful the possessed spirit was. But if the spirit was battered by attacks from the Fade itself, it would disrupt the connection between the spirit and the host. The elven apostate extended his will and manipulated the very fabric of Veil and struck at the spirit of Hakkon with pure Fade energy, disrupting the Revenant's healing power and dealing massive spirit damage.

Even with the power of Hakkon he coveted so much filling his soul, Thane Harofsen was unable to stand against the combined strength and anger of the Inquisitor and his companions. The warriors hacked at him like he was a ram being slaughtered while the rogues and mages peppered him with arrows, daggers and magic. The attacks were so vicious his newfound healing factor could barely keep up with it. And with both his weapons shattered, all he could do was make vain attacks with his claws. This could not be happening. It cannot! Not after everything he had done to claim his rightful power.

_**"This cannot be! I cannot be defeated! I AM HAKKON REBORN!"**_ Harofsen denied even as he was being cut down and eviscerated by anger of the Inquisition.

"SILENCE!" The Inquisitor commanded as his sylvanwood blade burning with veilfire lanced straight through Harofsen's chest and silenced him. The mighty Thane fell to the frozen floor like a felled oak with a powerful crash.

Everyone watched in disturbed awe as the powerful Revenant's form shift back to the true body of Thane Gurd Harofsen. The power of Hakkon's spirit was leaving Gurd's body, leaving behind a ruined, broken, shattered husk of the once powerful Thane riddled with deep gashes, burns, and torn flesh bleeding on the ground with Rajmael's sword sticking out of his chest. And despite the amount of horrible agony he must have been in, Harofsen was laughing at them, mocking them.

"What's so damned funny, shem?" Rajmael demanded.

"You've...hrgkh...you've...accomplished nothing. You've failed!" Harofsen laughed and hacked blood out of his throat. "You...may have beaten me...but I've still won. H-Hakkon will rise. And the Lowlands...will be...destroyed by ice cold death. You...will see Hakkon's might!"

Rajmael grasped the handle of his sword stuck in Harofsen's chest, and twisted it. Hard. Harofsen screamed in pain, hacking up more blood. The Inquisitor placed his foot down on the dying fanatic's head and started applying pressure.

"I'm _still_ not impressed." Rajmael stamped down with all his might, and broke Harofsen's jaw like shattered ice beneath his heel, finally killing him, just as he promised he would.

With Harofsen dead, it was now time to get the answers they had fought so hard to find in this frigid ass-end of the Frostbacks. A set of steps magically lifted up to the boulder where the magic binding the dragon was coming from. They carefully walked up the steps to the top of the giant rock, and none of them could ever have been prepared for what they found there, especially the Inquisitor himself.

All the answers they were looking for were found in their questions. His lover, Telana. The shrine he maid to Andraste and Ghilain'nan. The magic he used to leave clues behind at the shrine. How he was able to seal the dragon possessed by the spirit of Hakkon. Why his personal helmet bore the maker's mark of the Temple of June: Inquisitor Ameridan, who brought the Inquisition into the Chantry, was a mage and a Dalish elf. And now here was, the Last Inquisitor, standing before them as though he were waiting for not even an hour.

Rajmael stared at Ameridan with shock and disbelief. One could almost mistake the two elves as kin. They even bore the same vallaslin that honored Dirthamen.

"In-Inquisitor?" Rajmael beckoned hesitantly.

"Inquisitor." Ameridan welcomed gladly. The elder elven mage smiled at his younger counterpart warmly. "Andaran atish'an, lethallin. I am glad to see Drakon has kept ties with our people."

Rajmael feelings of shock and disbelief were quickly replaced by revilement and disgust at the mere mention of that name. Rajmael hocked in his throat and spat in hatred. "It hasn't. His son, Kordillus the Second allowed the Chantry to call an Exalted March and destroyed the Dales!"

A pained look of shock and sorrow glinted in Ameridan's eyes. "What? That cannot...How long ago?"

"You were the last Inquisitor." Cassandra answered. "There hasn't been another for since you disappeared eight hundred years ago."

"Drakon was my oldest friend, he would have sent someone to come after me." Ameridan insisted.

"He never had the chance. The darkspawn were pouring out of the Anderfels and threatening Orlais." Solas informed.

"I see." A look hesitation came over Ameridan. He wasn't sure he wanted his next question answered. "Telana escaped the battle. Did she...what became of her?"

"Ir abelas, hahren, but Telana died when she returned to the island and tried to reach you in her dreams." Rajmael answered sorrowfully.

"No. I asked her not to. She was a good hunter and the love of my life, but she never..." Pain, loss and regret twisted on the Last Inquisitor's face. "I never wanted this job. Hunting demons was always so much easier than politics."

"Inquisitor Ameridan, how could the leader of the Seekers be a mage?" Cassandra asked with eagerness and disbelief.

"Has history forgotten so much? I was not a Seeker myself, as many Inquisitors were. I used my magical gift in the hunting of demons and malificarum." Ameridan answered. "Do the Seekers no longer welcome the aid of mages?"

"No. That was forgotten as well...among many other things." Cassandra lamented.

"Cassandra is a Seeker." Rajmael informed. "And after the Seekers went rogue, she discovered the truth about them."

"We learned they...developed the Rite of Tranquility." Cassandra revealed regrettably.

"You mean sundering one from the Fade? The Seekers use it briefly to grant their initiates their abilities." Ameridan remembered.

"Now it has become a way to control mages, and even punish them. They are left Tranquil. Permanently." Cassandra shamefully confessed.

Ameridan sighed with dismal regret and anger. "Killing a man is an ugly thing. You learn not to look at it as your first recourse. But sundering them from the Fade is _easy_. Bloodless. I told them spreading such a 'solution' would lead to abuse. They swore it would never happen. They promised! I...I am so sorry."

_"Sorry?"_ Rajmael said the word like it was an insult. "The Rite of Tranquility is vile! Unnatural! Evil! The entire world was brought to the brink of destruction because of that fucking thing! When Chantry allowed its Templars to use it on mages for any reason, forcing the Circles to finally rebel, causing continental chaos! And you're _sorry_?!"

"There is nothing I else I can be at this point, lethallin." Ameridan lamented.

Rajmael felt that thing clawing at the back of his mind once again, and a well of outrage and sorrow sprang up inside of him. "I...I don't understand. You...you had to have been the best of us, Ameridan. The greatest of the elves. How could you serve a man like Kordillus Drakon?! How could you give such power to the Chantry?!"

"Try to understand, Inquisitor." Ameridan bade. "I lived in a time of darkness, when dark cults, demons, and chaos ruled. I tried to transition the Inquisition into a force of peace. The Dales was still young, and our people were still weak from millennia of enslavement. I thought Kordillus' Chantry could help give light and protection, and his empire could be the ally our people needed ever since Andraste died. But many of my brethren thought he was no different than the Imperium, and wanted the darkspawn to destroy Orlais. I couldn't let that happen. Did our people not help in the Blight?"

"No. The elves stayed out of the fighting, even as the Blight ravaged Orlais. It led to a cold war with the Dales which eventually erupted into an Exalted March." Vivienne answered in her trademark haughty tone. "Such a waste."

"Without your voice to tell them, the People couldn't see the wisdom in fighting alongside the humans. Not while they still remembered millennia of slavery." Solas added.

"It would seem that by trying to destroy Orlais, the Jaws of Hakkon inadvertently destroyed the Dales." Blackwall sighed.

"Friggin' pride-cookies. Again." Sera commented disrespectfully, earning an angry glare from Rajmael.

"I tried to tell the Hahren'al that that would be a foolish mistake." Ameridan sighed sadly. "We needed to stand with the humans to be seen as equals. I told them we would lose everything we had gained."

"And what did we have to gain in helping against the Blight except leading our people back down the road to destruction? _You_ were wrong, Ameridan. Drakon _was_ no different than the Imperium!" Rajmael spat. "Tell me, how many cities and peoples did he crush to build his empire? How many other religious sects did he destroy for the sake of _his_ Chantry?"

Ameridan said nothing. There was nothing he could say

"That many, huh?" Rajmael sighed angrily. "Do you have any idea what the Chantry did to us? Do you understand what it's like for elves who are ruled by Orlais? They _destroyed_ our kingdom! Stole everything from us, and forced those who surrendered to give up our gods and culture to live like slaves and scum again! While elves like me, the remaining Dalish, are forced to live in the woods like vagabonds. Do you realize the sacrifices we've had to make?! The extremes we take just to survive!?" Rajmael was so overcome with grief and anger that tears were unconsciously welling up in his eyes. "You gave the Chantry the power to destroy us, then they erased you, Thane Shartan and all elves from history like we were nothing! It would have been better if you never helped Drakon at all..."

"Ir abelas, lethallin. Ir tela halam var vhen." Ameridan replied trying to hold back his own tears. "I...only tried to do what I thought was best in dark times. I never wanted this job, to track a dragon to far reaches of nowhere. I had our people to deal with, to try and make them see the reason in helping Orlais against the darkspawn. But Drakon told me I was needed, as I suspect you were needed."

"I never wanted to be a leader or a symbol for a religion I don't believe in." Rajmael confessed. "I had a life, a daughter who needs me."

"And now you have the weight of the world on your shoulders, where all that you love will always be put second. Take moments of joy while you can, Inquisitor. The world will take the rest." Ameridan groaned in pain, and the magic connecting him and the dragon started crackling. "This dragon carries the soul of an Avvar god. I lacked the strength to kill it alone. My own magic was able to bind us, locked in time. But when the cultists tried moving the soul into another vessel, it disrupted my bindings, and now it is breaking free."

"Then let us finish this together, as elves and Inquisitors." Rajmael urged.

"I would relish at the chance for such a hunt, Lethallin, but it is not to be." Ameridan smiled sadly. "The passage of years can be delayed, but never ignored. I will soon join Telana at Andraste's side with Falon'din and the Creators."

"Waging war with human-made gods has become my specialty. I will finish what you started." Rajmael promised.

"Then I leave the world in good hands. Take this." Ameridan handed his counterpart an ancient, and extremely powerful bow laced with magic.

"This...this is Andruil's Gift." Rajmael beheld with reverence. "This was one of our most sacred relic. The Dalish all thought it was taken by the humans during the Exalted March."

"No, I took this bow from the Temple of Andruil and used it in every dragon hunt I went on. May it serve you well in the hunt I couldn't finish." Ameridan bequeathed with his blessing. "Mala ghil-dirthalen. _You_ are the best of our people now. It was an honor to meet you...Inquisitor." Ameridan closed his eyes smilingly. He released his spell on the dragon, and fell into dust. His duty finally over and could find peace.

They all stood stunned. Of all the answers they expected to find in searching for Ameridan, they never expected anything so revolutionary. The truth about Ameridan could unfound centuries of Chantry propaganda and so-called history. But none felt the impact of this revelation more than Rajmael, for no one more effected by Ameridan's life than their own people. Rajmael never knew the truth could be so bitter.

"That Inquisitor wasn't like most elves. Good for him." Sera remarked smugly.

"Inquisitor Ameridan, who brought the Inquisition into the Chantry, and established the Chantry as we know it, was a Dalish elf. And he honored both the Maker and the elven gods." Cassandra said with awed respect.

"They are not so different, Kordillus. Just a different pair of boots to walk the same road." Cole spoke the memory of Ameridan with sadness in his voice. "He doesn't see, wants it kept simple. One god, one empire to bring order to the world. But I will make him see. Instead, he died here, but before everything else he cared for died."

"It is a rare thing for a man to honor both beliefs equally, and to do so much without any knowing the real truth." Solas said with more than respect. It was as though he could relate. "He didn't do this to be remembered, he did it because it was necessary. And the world dishonored him."

Dorian shook his head in disbelief. "In Tevinter, we still sing the Canticles of Thane Shartan and remember him. The Chantry should have done the same, and remembered what those men did."

"When the Chantry and Orlais learn of this, they'll be shitting bricks, I swear." Blackwall commented.

"Indeed." Vivienne agreed. "And all the Orlesian families who claim to be descendants of Ameridan will be discredited and shamed."

"Damn. Now that...that guy was basalit-an." Iron Bull saluted in awe. "Anaan."

"Both the last and current Inquisitors are Dalish elves who try bring order in a world gone mad." Varric stated. "Either that is the most crazy coincidence in history, or you really do have the Maker looking on ya."

Rajmael looked at the dwarf with grief on his face. "If it was the Maker's will that I be made Inquisitor, and Ameridan's action came at the cost of my people's future, then He...is truly a sick, twisted and evil god, indeed."

The whole ruin shook, and they were all snapped back into reality as epic dragon began to stir and awaken. With Ameridan's spell no longer holding it back, the dragon broke free, roaring with life and broke through the roof, flying into the Basin. Hakkon Wintersbreath was finally free to wreak devastation on the world.

"Holy shit!" Varric cursed. All of them watched in bedeviled horror as the godlike creature flew off into the distance.

"We have to stop this creature before it destroys the Basin and moves on to the rest of Southern Thedas." Cassandra urged.

Iron Bull smiled joyfully as cracked his neck and flexed his heavy muscles. "Oh, good. Another dragon fight. And this time it's a god-dragon. This is gonna be fun."

"But how are we going to fight it while it's flying? Can we make it come down?" Cole asked honestly.

Cole's question was a serious concern. In all the times they've killed dragons, they were able to do so by baiting it towards them or invading its lair. The dragon carrying the spirit of Hakkon however, was focused only on destroying everything in its path and moving on to destroy some more. How could they bring it down?

Rajmael stared at the bow in his hands. There was no string to fire its projectiles, it didn't need one. Ameridan left him a single enchanted arrow, it was all he needed. His finger traced over the inscription on the bow written in ancient elvhen, his elven eyes were capable of reading the forgotten language. Even after eight hundred years of being dormant, Rajmael could still feel the powerful magic residing in this weapon and streaming into his arms like electricity. This was no wooden bow like the Dalish made, but forged with a material and technique of an age long forgotten. A true elvhen weapon. Never in all his life did Rajmael dream of finding this lost sacred piece of his people's history. And in this bow, he found the answer to Cole's question.

"We challenge him." Rajmael answered with deathly determination burning in his eyes. "That dragon is Avvar god of war, their ultimate warrior. And no Avvar warrior can ever turn down a challenge."

"So we challenge the beast, then what?" Blackwall questioned. "How are to combat such a creature and kill it?"

"It is not an unsound tactic, my dear, but how are we to ground such a beast?" Vivienne questioned.

"With this." Rajmael revealed the bow to his companions. "Andruil's Gift will sunder Hakkon Wintersbreath from the very sky."

"That?" Sera chortled doubtfully. "That stupid elfy bow doesn't even have a string! And can you even use a bow?"

"This weapon doesn't need a string, or even arrows." Rajmael answered grimly. "It just needs the will to use it. And all Dalish elves know how to use a bow."

A shrill cry split the air and shook the ground, and they all felt Hakkon's fury smashing the mountains.

"Whatever is to be done, it must be done now." Solas counseled urgently.

Following Solas' sage advice, they quickly brushed themselves off and moved out. They needed to go out and face the full might of the god of winter and war. And Rajmael would show Hakkon what it meant to do battle with the Inquisitor.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael and the others finally caught up to the Hakkon-possessed dragon. Rajmael had slain many dragons thus far, but this beast was something else entirely; larger, stronger, more powerful, and it held the soul of an Avvar god. This creature was more akin to an Archdemon than anything else. This dragon with all of Hakkon's rage and might was already laying waste to the Basin. The beat of its powerful wings uprooted trees like a hurricane. Its roar was greater than any storm that heralded impending doom. And the breath from its maw was the mightiest blizzard anyone had ever seen. Truly, this was Hakkon Wintersbreath, Avvar god of Winter and War.

Hakkon's rage shook the very ground and destroyed the earth beneath him. He had already turned Cloudcap lake into a frozen tundra. If this kept up, Corypheus wouldn't be the only would-be god destroying the world. This must end. But none of them could do anything so long as the beast was airborne.

Rajmael knelt down, bracing himself, and held the Andruil's Gift firmly in his grip in his grip. His magic, his very will, charged through the bow, bringing it to life and making a string of pure magic connect between the powerful limbs together. The string hummed with power, like the charge in the air before a summer storm. The Inquisitor felt the ancient magic of this sacred weapon vibrate and surge through his arms.

Rajmael aimed the arrow at the dragon while flew and remembered Nethras and Junnarel's words when he taught him how to use the bow, the most sacred of all elvhen weapons. Anticipate his quarry's movement. Let the beat of his wings be one with his own heartbeat. Don't think, but feel. Let his instincts guide his aim. Let the arrow, the bow and his very soul become one.

"Andruil, blood and force, Lady of The Hunt, I prey to you. Turn your fatal gaze on to this worthy prey. Grant me glory. Grant me victory over this foe whose crimes against The People cannot be measured. Strike him down with your Gift. Sunder him from the very sky. Bring flying death to this creature who brought ruin to my people. Las ar ensalin, ten las ar atishan." And with that prayer, Rajmael let his arrow fly. The fury of a gathered storm flew forth from the bow's golden limbs, it's projectile flew forward with the screams of the south wind carrying it.

Rajmael cried in pain when thunder erupted from the bowstring, the explosion of such powerful and ancient magic caused the bow to explode in Rajmael hand and shattered his arm. The arrow flew like flaming lance as it hurled through the air. The destructive projectile found its mark in the dragon, and sundered its mighty wigs from its immense body. The colossal beast hurled down to the ice-island it created with a booming crash that resonated throughout the Basin. Rajmael had done the impossible, and struck a god to the earth.

**_"FACE ME AND DIE, INQUISITOR! YOUR PREDECESSOR COULD NOT DEFEAR ME, YOU SHALL FARE NO DIFFERENT!" _**The dragon roared with utter rage that split the very air. **_"I AM THE BREATH OF WINTER, THE COLD WIND OF WAR! I AM HAKKON REBORN!"_**

Rajmael's arm throbbed in pain as he gritted through his teeth, "I'm _still_ waiting to be impressed."

Hakkon didn't keep the elf waiting long. A blast of ice erupted from the dragon's throat and flew straight at the insolent elf.

On instinct, Rajmael executed the same maneuver he had used against Corypheus' pet Archdemon in Haven and reflected the attack. The force behind the blast was no different than the Archdemon's but Sweet Sylaise it was freezing! This wasn't ice, but rather _Fade-touched_ ice. Even in that brief moment of parrying, the "cold wind of war" seeped through Rajmael's shimmering shield and all but froze the lyrium solid in his veins. But the Arcane Warrior _did_ parry, nonetheless, and sent the dragon own attack flying right back at it.

The Inquisitor was already feeling the effect of such a dangerous maneuver. His bones, muscles, even his blood felt like they had frozen and were ready to shatter under any strain. But he could not let up, not now. With Hakkon dazed again, Rajmael began to give out tactical orders. "Take it down!" he yelled as he fought to remain standing on legs that had lost feeling. "Mages and archers, spread out! Ranged support for the warriors!"

But Hakkon would have none of it. The dragon charged straight past the squad as they mobilized. It even allowed them to get a few hits in, but merely because they were so insignificant to him. With a single swipe of its awesome tail, the dragon sent the Inquisitor's companions flying. Nothing mattered to the draconic god but the death of its nemesis. Twice now, once called "Inquisitor" had dared to defy him. Twice now had an Inquisitor trapped him in a foolish attempt to save the Lowlands. Hakkon would no longer suffer their existence. Any Lowlander to hold the title would be crushed without mercy, their holds reduced to frozen wastelands!

Rajmael was still feeling the both effects of deflecting Hakkon's breath and Andruil's Gift shattering in his hand. And after his fight with Gurd Harofsen, his mana was running low. The dragon barreling for him, its hungry maw gnashing angrily and its powerful limbs crushing the ice beneath it, but Rajmael was not afraid. He stood defiant, eyes blazing as he prepared for either an overwhelming victory or an unmarked grave.

The dragon opened its maw once more, ready to finish off its nemesis. Suddenly, Rajmael felt the lyrium igniting in his veins, and knew what was going to happen next. A harpooned chain flew out of nowhere right into the dragon's eye and pulled it straight down, making Hakkon fire his breath right at his won feet. Hakkon screamed in pain, Cassandra's attack was successful.

Cassandra learned that technique from her brother Antony, and it was a signature move amongst Nevarran dragon hunters. To the Seeker, this so-called god-possessed dragon was nothing more than a powerful demon, and all demons were vulnerable to the attacks of Seekers. And Cassandra had been fighting dragons and demons her whole life. She would not let the love of her life face it alone.

Cassandra stood at Rajmael's side and ignited the lyrium in his veins, revitalizing his power. The dragon found them with his good eye, and prepared to come down on them, but the Seeker held her sword high. Winter and War came to a screeching halt as Cassandra summoned the Wrath of the Heavens against it's spirit, inflaming it with staggering agony. A dragon's body was impressive, but the true Hakkon was the demon possessing that body, and therefore it was subject to her full power.

The Seeker made Hakkon stagger back. Made the world more real. False cold isn't real enough to freeze her fire. Cole was more real too, so it wouldn't hurt him. But Hakkon _did_ hurt. So many hurts tangled up through time and trauma and trouble. Underneath his wide-brimmed hat, the boy's face twisted with anger. So much pain. This dragon took the Dales away. More than all the connected pain, he felt this pain from Rajmael directly, and it became too much. Gripping both knives, Cole jumped off a boulder of solid ice towards Hakkon.

"People lost everything to you!" The former spirit screamed. He landed on the back of the dragon's bridge-like neck, stabbing his knives under the plates of its scales deeply into the frozen flesh underneath.

Dorian felt that this was the time to finally utilize that spell he had been working on ever since he came back from the future with Rajmael in Redcliffe. An offshoot spell based on the Rift Alexius made to warp time itself. The Tevinter mage harnessed the residual energies of the Fade to create a pocket vortex around him and all his companion, slowing time down to a halt but allowing the rest of them to move freely as though time had no meaning.

Not one to be shown up, or to give an enemy the advantage, Vivienne also decided it was time to utilize one of her most powerful spells. Knowing that everyone was still tired and wounded from the previous fight with the Hakkonite leader, she knew they needed to be healed to keep up the fight. Focusing all her will, the Imperial Enchanter created a powerful glyph beneath her feet and summoned benign and beneficial wisps from the Fade to heal her companions. She could keep this up for a short while, giving them the opportunity to deal as much damage as they could to the demon-possessed dragon.

"Aw, shit yeah! This is going to be good!" Iron Bull laughed as he felt the effects of Vivienne and Dorian's spell. "Hey, Sera, follow me!"

"Alright, yeah!" Sera yelled as she followed the large warrior to the dragon's underside.

The former qunari and Red Jenny worked in tandem as they combined their efforts in a single, and absurdly haphazard attack. All dragons were weak around the underbelly, and this dragon was big enough for both of them to get under there. Iron Bull hacked at Hakkon's legs like he was chopping trees while Sera smashed a fire flask against her leather jerkin shot every arrow she had into the softer scales above her. Both of laughed like maniacs as they fought.

What neither seemed to notice was how Hakkon thrashed and stamped, looking to crush them both like bugs. A fact that did not go unnoticed by Varric.

"Shit," Varric muttered. "Chuckles, Tiny and Buttercup need a barrier!" Solas complied, wrapping both Iron Bull and Sera in a protective magical aura that would shield him in his moment of recklessness. Meanwhile, Varric took the distraction provided by Seeker and the Inquisitor to line up a beautiful shot from Bianca. His aim was almost as flawless as Rajmael's as he put an explosive bolt right into Hakkon's bad eye. Judging by the screeches that dragon was making, he _felt_ that one. "Great shot gorgeous," he whispered, petting his beloved crossbow.

Blackwall saw what Cole was doing, and as insane as it seemed, it was a brilliant tactic. All snakes were most vulnerable behind their necks because the couldn't reach that spot, and there was no creature in the world that was immune to attack to the back of the head. While Iron Bull and Sera occupying its legs, Blackwall timed it just right, and ran up the dragon's tail, over its ruined wings, and past Cole right to the back of its head. With his Avvar, he quickly knocked off the scales in his way and began bash the bare flesh on the back of the dragon's neck. By using the Thunderstrike, an Avvar weapon of legendary renown, against the Avvar god of war, Blackwall felt like he was returning the mace home.

Hakkon roared furiously and shook the miserable pests off and out from under him, but their attacks were already taking their toll. But the more it was harmed, the greater it attacked.

"Everyone, get away now!" Rajmael ordered. Sensing that Vivienne and Dorian's spells were beginning to wane, the Inquisitor needed to get his companions away from being so close to the beast, lest they get trampled or chomped on.

Hakkon raised his gaping maw skyward, releasing a shrill cry of a note so bizarre, alien and unnatural that stunned all his attackers. A chorus of gaggling ear-piercing shrieks filled the air as a pack of undead, fade-rats phased up from the ice and stampeded towards the Inquisition. These gibbering horrors were summoned by Hakkon to protect him.

Blackwall and Iron Bull ran to engage the screaming rat demons. Blackwall was a shield wall of a man with the resilience of ten, while Iron Bull was stampede of primal rage all on his own. They would hold these little freaks off while the others engaged Hakkon.

"Solas, cover us!" Rajmael ordered.

The elven apostate knew what the Inquisitor was asking, and did what was asked of him. Solas struck his staff to the ground, it burned with a powerful green spark as he extended his will through the Veil and into the Fade. By will alone, Solas tore open a rip in the Veil and summoned a rain of meteorites from the Fade to batter the wingless god-dragon down, preventing it from recovering from its wounds.

The once powerful, magnificent dragon, lay battered to the ground, its wounds bleeding and smoking, and its wings that could once create a winter gale were nothing more than tattered ruins ripped from its back and one eye remaining in its skull. The beast must have had some god-like quality to still be alive after all that. Rajmael might have felt sorry for the dragon if he wasn't consumed by his hatred for it and what it cost his people.

Just as his last host did, despite the damage it suffered and pain it was in, the Spirit of Hakkon laughed through the dragons mouth and tongue. _**"WELL DONE. A MAGNIFICENT FIGHT. YOU ARE WORTHY, INQUISITOR!"**_

"Ma vhenan..." Rajmael beckoned. "Give me the strength to finish this."

Cassandra obliged her love and held him to her, igniting the lyrium in his veins and strengthening his magic. Rajmael held his sword in his grip, the veilfire blade burned like a bonfire for all who dwelled within the Basin to see. Rajmael leapt forward and all but flew at Hakkon Wintersbreath as he poured all his hatred, anger and grief into one final stroke.

**"HALAMSHIRAL!"** And with that word representing everything his people had lost, he drove his ancient sylvanwood sword through the skull of Hakkon reborn.

An ethereal silence gripped the whole Basin and a faint cry of welcome drifted from the distance. The spirit of Hakkon, at long last, free, flew from his ruined shell and returned to the world of spirits. In time, he would be reborn and once again heed the prayers of the Avvar who sought his favor and wrath.

But the victory seemed hollow to the Inquisitor as he knelt before the splintered remains of Andruil's Gift. He regained this long lost relic, only to destroy in stopping the madness the Jaws of Hakkon unleashed. He stopped a corrupted Avvar god possessing a High Draon from destroying Orlais, and for what?

"Rajmael?" Cassandra called worriedly.

"What...what did I do this for? The Hakkonites corrupted their own god and used him as a rabid tool for their bloodlust, and Ameridan gave his life to stop it, and for what?" Rajmael lamented.

"You stopped that creature from destroying thousands of innocent lives, Rajmael. Just as Ameridan did." Cassandra said, trying to be comforting. "You did the right thing, just as Ameridan did."

"And it only cost my people our kingdom, while Orlais and the Chantry benefitted from Ameridan's wisdom and selflessness, and left our people with nothing. Ameridan's life...was for nothing." Rajmael knelt down and tried to purge the sorrow from his mind. "Everyone, please, just...leave me for a moment."

It hurt Cassandra to see how this was effecting Rajmael. He came here to seek the truth about his predecessor only to learn that all this was the root of his people's undoing. The Chantry greatly wronged both Inquisitor's and the elven people. She swore in the name of the Maker, and her love for Rajmael, that his and Ameridan's actions and accomplishments would not have been in vain.

Cole could still feel Rajmael's pain, even if he wasn't a spirit anymore, it would be difficult not to feel his pain. Grief, betrayal, anger and sorrow. Everything his people lost, everything they could have been, it was all stripped from them here in the far reaches of nowhere. And worst of all, history forgot. There could be no greater betrayal than that.

Solas had seen much of forgotten history during his years in the Fade. But to see what the elves had lost first hand, to witness what cost them so much, was a different matter entirely. Ameridan didn't deserve this fate, not after everything he did, and the elves deserved better than what the humans did to them.

"Wow. I've never seen the Inquisitor take down a dragon before. It's pretty impressive." Scout Harding appraised, appearing from nowhere with Siobahn right behind her.

"Scout Harding? How long have you been there?" Blackwall asked curiously. "And how are you faring, Lady Siobahn?"

"Oh, I followed you into the Tevinter ruin." Harding answered. "I saw everything. How you all killed Harofsen, the truth about Ameridan. Everything."

"I woke up not long after ye all killed Harofsen, may the Lady leave him for the worms." Siobahn informed. "Imagine my surprise when I found this lovely red-haired Stone-Child looking down at me, as lovely as dream." Siobahn stroked Harding's face tenderly, making the scout blush intensely.

"You know it's funny." Harding observed. "History forgot so much. They never knew Ameridan died saving everyone, and no one thought to honor him for what he did before. Is that what it's like for Inquisitor Lavellan?"

Cassandra looked over to her lover with sorrow in her eyes. "There are things that no one, not even the people in Skyhold, will ever know or even understand. Everyone looks to him and sees a savior, a symbol, a Herald. But to himself, he is just a Dalish elf, and that's all he wants to be. And the less they see of that, the less he is to the world."

"For what it's worth, Lavellan," Harding called over to Rajmael. "I think there's a reason why Dalish elves make the best Inquisitors. For what it's worth."

"All of ye, please. Return to Stone-Bear Hold with me." Siobahn beckoned. "The Lowlanders may not know how to honor their heroes, but_ we_ do. Let us thank you properly."

Rajmael picked himself up and composed himself. "Very well. I still have a world to save after this."

**Back at Stone-Bear Hold...**

By the time they arrived at the Avvar village, the Avvar were already celebrating. Even Professor Kenric was partaking in the festivities. Thane Sun-Hair immediately wanted to speak with them in her hut.

"Inquisitor, well done. We of Stone-Bear Hold honor you." Svarrah congratulated. "You have done all Avvar a great boon by returning Hakkon to the spirit world. It is not right for you to be considered merely a guest after everything you've done for our people. From this day forward, we shall know you as Inquisitor Jaw-Breaker, hold-kin to our tribe."

"Ooh. Jaw-Breaker. That has a good ring to it, Boss." Iron Bull applauded.

"Maybe we should ask Ruffles to put that in with your other list of titles." Varric suggested.

"Short and to the point. I like it." Blackwall agreed.

"How very specific of you." Dorian commented.

Rajmael nodded his head in thanks. "I am honored, Thane Sun-Hair."

"I cannot promise all Avvar will be friends to you, but you are kin to us now, and we shall sing songs of your deeds until the mountains crumble and are swallowed by the sea." The Thane swore. "May the Lady keep you safe and the Mountain-Father strengthen your arm."

Siobahn stepped forward, and placed herself closely to Scout Harding. "I would like to join yer Inquisition. If ye don't object."

"Why would you want to join us?" Cassandra asked curiously.

"After watching all ye defeat Hakkon Wintersbreath in battle, how could I not?" Siobahn then hugged Scout Harding very close to her, her hands shamelessly wandering, making the surface dwarf blush seven shades of crimson. "And besides, I'd use any excuse to get close to a lass as adorable and deadly as this redheaded darling."

"Um, Inquisitor? Permission to stay in Basin for a couple more day? F-for recruitment and scouting purposes, of course." Harding blushed as Siobahn hugged her closer to her breasts.

"Permission granted. To both of you." Rajmael answered. He and few of the others snickered at Siobahn's shameless affections while Cassandra and Vivienne scoffed in disdain.

"Inquisitor! I heard everything from Scout Harding about the truth of Ameridan." Kenric said excitedly. "With the evidence you found and your testimony, I'll either get tenure or beheaded, either way, I'm still committed to the truth. I swear by Andraste's pyre, that I will make it known to the world what you and Ameridan did here."

Rajmael didn't think it was possible, but he actually found a kindred spirit in Professor Kenric. The professor was truly a rare human, indeed. One who sought the truth, the real truth. Not looking to benefit from it or twist it to his own agenda like so many others would.

"Inquisitor wait, I beg ye." They were already outside the hold's walls by this Siobahn caught up with her. Despite the fact she had an adorable ginger dwarf with ample assets waiting for her back in her hut, she ran out to them for something important.

"Something wrong, Auger Siobahn?" Rajmael inquired.

"Yes and no, Inquisitor." Siobahn answered with guilt in her eyes. "I saw what happened with yer predecessor, saw how terribly it hurt ye. And ye may hate me for this, but I feel ye deserve to know what the spirits have told me."

"What?"

"This is not the end of it." Siobahn said cryptically. "Ye have suffered more than almost anyone else can bear. Indeed, when I hear the spirits speak of yer past, my heart breaks and I weep for ye. And ye shall suffer more and more for as long as there are those who will call ye 'Herald of Andraste'. And every pain ye suffer will be worse than the last. Ye have my deepest condolences, for whatever they're worth."

Despite the shocked or incredulous looks everyone gave Siobahn's little prophecy, Rajmael remained undeterred. "As you said, suffering and I are old friends, and if I must continue to suffer so that my daughter never has to, then I consider that a life worth living." The Inquisitor turned around and continued on his way as though Siobahn's prophesy was nothing more than a pipe dream as he waved her goodbye. "I'll see you back at Skyhold, Agent Siobahn. Don't go too hard on my scout, I still need her."

"Rajmael. That elven phrase Ameridan said to you before he died? What did he say to you?" Cassandra asked curiously as they walked.

"He called me Ghil-dirthalen." Rajmael answered as he gently grabbed Cassandra's hand. "It means 'one who guides seekers of true knowledge'."

Cassandra held her lovers hand in hers, and couldn't help but laugh at how appropriate it was for the last elven Inquisitor and leader of the Seekers to declare Rajmael thus. "There are none more worthy of such a title than you, my love."

Siobahn watched as the Inquisitor and his company departed from the Basin. How she wished with all her heart that her prophesy would never come true. "Lady of the Skies, watch over this worthy one as he walks into darkness to protect this world. Korth, Mountain-Father, grant him the strength to walk this path of pain well and with honor. And Hakkon Wintersbreath, if ye can still answer prayers, grant this Inquisitor victory."

**Language Codex:**

**Harhen'al:** Elven, translates as "Gathering of Elders".

** Ir abelas, lethallin. Ir tela halam var vhen:** Elven, translates as "I am sorry, my friend. I have failed our People."

**Mala Ghil-dirthalen:** Elven, literally, "You are one who guides seekers of true knowledge."

**Author's Note:**

**Okay, so I know that's it's been about a month since my last update, but hey, it's the holidays and life keeps me busy.**

**And I'd like to give a big hand to Blindluck92 for assisting me with the difficult task of doing that fight scene with the dragon.**

**I've finally completed this arc, so please review and tell me what you think.**

**Happy Holidays, everyone.**


	30. Even More Personal Issues

**~Even More Personal Issues~**

Solas sat alone in that quiet place where they first met so long ago. The memory was so dear to him that it felt like it happened only yesterday. Once long ago, he wandered, searched and listened until he came into this grove as he walked the land of dreams until he found Wisdom, one of the rarest and most gentle of all Spirits. She found him when he first began his journeys into the Fade.

For a young cocky elf, full of youthful zeal and bolstered by arrogance, it was nothing short of a miracle for him to encounter a spirit such a her. When he wanted to jump into action, she taught him the importance of patience. When he was angry, she would counsel him. When he made one terrible mistake after another, she would help him find the wisdom needed to try again, to find a solution.

And then, she was gone. And the world was poorer for it. Snuffed out like a dying candle, by his own hand.

**Skyhold, A Few Days Ago...**

Solas sat at his desk in the middle of the rotunda in the Skyhold library. He was forcing himself to take another sip of some terrible tasting black tea that had more caffeine than water in it. This poor excuse for a beverage tasted worse than anything he had tasted during his travels in the wilderness. But he had to drink. The dreams of his friend would only continue to plague him if he didn't.

"Someone piss in your tea?" Rajmael asked noticing the sour look on Solas' face while he sipped his drink.

"May as well have for how good it tastes, but I detest tea as a rule." Solas grimaced. "But this morning I needed to shake the dreams from my mind. I...may also need a favor."

That came as a surprise to Rajmael. Solas was very private and self-sufficient, and rarely asked anyone for anything unless it was very important. "Oh? That's unusual, coming from you, hahren. It must be important."

"Extremely." Solas confirmed getting out of his chair. "One of my oldest friends has been captured, forced into slavery by mages. I heard the cry for help as I dreamed. But now I can think of nothing else."

"Is your friend another apostate? Is that how your able to hear the cry in your dreams?"

"No, not at all." Solas chuckled. "My friend is a Spirit of Wisdom. Unlike many of the spirits we've encountered that clamor to enter this world, my friend was dwelling quite happily in the Fade until the mages captured it."

Rajmael's brow furrowed curiously. "Strange. Why would anyone want to capture a Spirit of Wisdom? Most mages capture or bind spirits for combat or necromancy, but those are usually demons, not benign spirits."

"You're right." Solas nodded. "Even the most novice mage can summon a spirit of rage or pride to do its bidding, but Wisdom is something else entirely. If they were seeking lore and history, they could easily speak to it in the Fade. But my friend does possess knowledge also lost to history. It is possible they seek information that it will not give, and intend to torture it."

Rajmael sighed deeply. "Then we shouldn't waste any time. If these mages are stooping to torture a non-aggressive spirit, then whatever knowledge or purpose they have cannot be a good one."

"Thank you. You've no idea how important my friend is to me." Solas smiled. "I was able to get a sense of where my friend was summoned. I can lead use there now."

For the sake of getting to Solas' friend quickly, everyone went to Master Dennet to acquire a mount. The Fereldan horsemaster was able to adequately find a suitable mount for each of them. Although, some were easier to oblige than others.

Rajmael rode Neirin while Solas was carried by a Tirashan Swiftwind gifted to the Inquisition by Agent Loranil's clan. Both the elven mages rode their halla as though it were easier than walking, and while everyone else was also riding, not all of them made it look so easy. Rajmael was actually impressed with Solas' riding skill. The Tirashan Swiftwing was famous amongst the Dalish for its fierce intelligence, independence, and its inability to suffer foolish riders. Yet this one excepted Solas without a fuss, and Solas rode the hart better than some Dalish elves Rajmael had seen.

Both of their residential knights rode rather well. The Seeker rode an Amaranthine Charger known for its spirit and being uncommon even to knights, while Blackwall rode a hearty Fereldan Forder. Cassandra was trained from an early age to master all forms of combat, including riding, and Blackwall was formerly a tourney knight and often competed in the prestigious jousts of the Free Marches. Both of them were trained to ride for days on end in military marching formation, both on foot and mounted, and knew how to hold their reigns and gallop at the pace that was expected of them.

Dorian rode an Imperial Warmblood from his native Tevinter, valued for being as old as Tevinter expansionism, while Vivienne rode an Orlesian Courser of the same breed prized by Chevaliers. Both of the imperialistic mages rode their horses as though they were flaunting themselves before the whole world, both of them being of noble status, they learned to ride to show themselves off to other nobles.

Everyone else on the other hand, had a little more difficulty adjusting to riding. Varric, a born and bred city-dwelling surface dwarf, who absolutely hated the outdoors, and had next to no riding experience, was forced to share a ride with someone. Unfortunately, that someone was Cole. It wasn't the horse that was the problem, the Free Marches Ranger they were riding was quite tame and easy going. No, the problem was the fact that Cole's absurdly large hat and disheveled hair that made it difficult to see the road, it was the fact that he kept _talking_ to his horse and kept himself from pay attention to the road. But Varric knew he was definitely better off riding with the Kid than with Sera.

Also being one who preferred the city as opposed to the outdoors, Sera wasn't given much to riding. Just getting on the saddle was a lesson in humility to the Red Jenny. Now Sera was struggling to control the Taslin Strider she had just spent ten minutes trying to get on. And if it wasn't the horse misbehaving, it was Sera almost sliding right off the saddle because she couldn't properly keep her feet in the stirrups.

"Dear Sera, surely you've ridden before?" Vivienne asked mockingly after Sera finally fell off her horse. "It's so easy for anyone with the proper instruction, yet you make it seem like such a chore."

"Oh, shut it, Madam Iron-Butt!" Sera hissed getting off the ground. "Not all of us get to ride your stupid horses. That's something you prissy nobb-types like to do to make yourselves feel bigger than everyone else by riding in the streets to feel so important when everyone knows you smell like horse butt."

"Would you care for the proper instructions? I could show you how to ride like a lady." Vivienne offered as an insult. "Perhaps I could also instruct you how to _smell_ like a lady, too. That would be an accomplishment."

"And maybe you'd like to find some that horse's ass-apples in your next meal. See how they smell." Sera threatened.

"Hey, Boss! Check this out!" Iron Bull hollered as he rode out of the stable. Everyone's jaw practically fell off their face at the sight of what the giant qunari was riding. It looked like a nug, but it was bigger than a bronto! On top of its head was a large set of ram-like horns that curled back from the top of its skull, but that wasn't the most shocking part. This oversized nug had fists. Actual ape-like fists connected to arms that were as thick a tree trunks.

"Wh-what is that...creature?" Cassandra asked not believing her eyes.

"I think it's a nuggalope." Solas answered intrigued. "I've heard of such creatures, but I've never actually seen one."

"At this point, nothing surprises me anymore." Blackwall sighed.

"Holy shit!" Rajmael swore in shock. "That? That thing is a fucking nug?!"

"I know, right?" Iron Bull laughed. "Can you believe that the Avvar who joined us from Stone-Bear Hold actually gave this thing to us? I would have easily paid an ass-load of money for this thing."

"I haven't got any other mounts in store that could carry that damned oxman without being broken in half." Master Dennet explained. "I figured since the Avvar ride these things, then perhaps your mercenary can as well. 'Sides, he seems to enjoy it."

"Are those fists?!" Varric pointed to the massive nug's balled digits.

"Damned right! Show 'em, Tama-2!" Iron Bull pointed to a nearby big rock jutting out of the ground, and his nuggalope punched into a hundred little pieces.

"Tama-2, Iron Bull? Really?" Dorian questioned.

"Well...it's got horns like my old Tamassran. And no one's carried me on their shoulders since my old Tamassran. I thought it would be a good way to honor her." Bull shrugged.

**Later in the Exalted Plains...**

Even with the War of Lions officially at an end, the Exalted Plains was still dangerous to travel alone. With Gaspard's forces surrendering and being disarmed, many of them fled rather then be tried for treason and war crimes, so banditry was a high risk here, even with the Inquisition's forces stationed in the area. The are where Solas' friend was summoned was secluded enough where apostates could easily conduct malevolent rituals.

"Why are we wasting our time trying to assist in aiding one of Solas' demonic consorts?" Vivienne complained.

"Not to agree with Vivvy, but this seems pretty stupid." Sera added grudgingly. "Helping demons is _stupid_."

"But it's not a demon. Demons want to come into this world, Solas' friend didn't." Cole corrected.

"Same stupid thing, creepy." Sera huffed.

"Then...does that mean you're still an elf even though you don't like elves?" Cole asked innocently.

"Can someone make him go away please?" Sera whined.

"I am curious, Solas. If this spirit is your friend, then how do you identify harmful spirits from beneficial ones?" Cassandra inquired.

"To understand the answer to that question, Seeker, you must let go of the notion that there is such a thing as good and bad spirits." Solas answered. "Spirits embody a purpose, and depending on what you seek, that purpose can be beneficial or harmful. Just as there's no such thing as evil magic, only evil intentions. A spirit is a reflection of a purpose, and a demon is a purpose that has become twisted. Mankind has only itself to blame for the existence of demons." Solas' voice became grim and downcast.

"You speak as though spirits were sentient creatures meant to be pitied." Cassandra carried. "But how can that be if all they do is try to continuously carry out a single purpose? The Chantry says the Maker turned away from the spirits because they lacked a soul, and that they press against the Veil seeking entry to take the souls of mortals. Is that why so many seek entry into this world? To find a new purpose?"

"For someone so devout to an institution that claims to stand for spirituality, ma vhenan, the Chantry isn't very enlightened on matters of spirits, if you think something needs to be a walking bag of flesh, bones and fluids to be considered sentient." Rajmael laughed with smoking leaving his mouth. "Strip away the flesh and what do you have? A persons spirit. And all we mortals ever do is try to fulfill or find that purpose that gives our lives meaning. No different than the residents of the Fade."

"Well, spoken, Inquisitor." Solas complimented.

"I suppose the elves have a different opinion when it comes to the matter of spirits." Cassandra observed. "What do the Dalish teach about spirits?"

"According to the Vir Tanadhal, The Way of Three Trees, we learn that all living things have a spirit, and are deserving of respect." Rajmael explained. "It is from this respect that we learn not to use spirits in our magic, and are able to find kinship with nature, and especially our hallas. Isn't that right, Neirin?" Rajmael patted the white hart's powerful neck and it lowed happily in response.

"I must confess, I never realized how little I actually understand the true nature of spirits." Cassandra admitted. "Being around you, Solas and Cole has made realize just how wrong the Circle is in its teaching of spirits."

"Both the Chantry and the Circle teach that spirits are dangerous and harmful, that they cannot be trusted."

"They teach that based on years of actual experience and encounters." Vivienne adamantly insisted. She refused to accept Solas' apostate knowledge.

"They become threats because you treat them like threats, because you perceive them as threats." Solas lectured. "And just like with people, if you treat them like a threat, that's exactly how they'll behave."

"Your devotion to your misguided misconceptions are adorable, Solas, but anyone who has ever encountered a spirit has only ever met them as a threat, as demonstrated by our encounters with the Rifts." Vivienne chided as though Solas was an ignorant child.

"And your shortsighted logic is as flawed as it is sad, Enchanter. That same concept could be applied to any encounter, considering how eager your race is to use swords and self-appointed righteousness to subjugate anyone deemed lesser than them." Solas rebutted.

"As fun as it is to watch you two bicker back and forth like an old married couple, maybe we should try keeping our minds on the task at hand?" Rajmael suggested. "And Vivienne, stop trying to turn every conversation into an argument. You're acting like a petulant child."

"Very well, Inquisitor." Vivienne conceded less than pleased.

"Indeed. We are not far from where my friend was summoned." Solas informed.

The whole group came upon the scene of what was obviously once a vicious battlefield during the civil war. The whole landscape was like a bad wound torn into the surface. Trenches dug into the ground, trees chopped down and uprooted, whole buildings burned down and the nearby river was a polluted black, foul-smelling ruin with debris, dead fish and dead bodies drifting to the banks. The only thing that could possibly be inhabiting this killing field besides the carrion feasting on the dead was the deserters turned bandits that were roaming the region.

Amongst the nameless dead they walked over as they made their way closer to wear the Spirit of Wisdom was being held, they found the body of a man riddled with arrows and was completely out of place on this battlefield. He wore no armor or even peasant clothing, but worn, tattered, but still visibly colorful robes. Gripped in his cold, lifeless hands was the splintered remains of what could only have been a Circle staff.

"This is a mage, if I am not mistaken." Cassandra observed.

"Shot in the back. Looks like he was trying to get away from the fighting, but his legs couldn't run fast enough. Poor bastard." Iron Bull added.

Blackwall snorted disdainfully. "It's disgusting to see what those who have fled the fighting will stoop to."

"If you think that guy had it bad, check out this poor bastard." Varric pointed to what was left of what was left of a bandit. The only reason why they couldn't identify it was because the face had been shredded off. The ribs were ripped open with all the organs and intestines pulled out by what could have been a bear, except no bear could be this size, and the earth around it had been burned but there were no signs of a fire around them.

"No mage could have done this. These scorches, those claw marks. Oh, no. No, no, non..." Solas eyes were filled with dread, fearing the worst.

"A demon's work, if I am not mistaken." Cassandra observed grimly.

Cole's face became as frantic as Solas'. "What is it doing here? Why was it forced here? It wants to leave and forget, but the rocks are solid. It doesn't want to be here."

"Like we didn't see this coming." Sera groaned.

"We must hurry!" Solas urged. Everyone followed after the distraught elf over a hill, and in the near distance, they found Solas' friend, much to the elven apostate's anguish. The Spirit of Wisdom had been horrifically transformed into a demon of pride. In stead of rampaging around, destroying everything around it, the corrupted spirit just stood there, kneeling. It was held within a binding circle, sealed by magical pillars of ice. Rajmael could sense the wards' power wanning, this demon was too much for such a feeble spell to contain.

"My friend!" Solas gasped in horror. The apostate yelled in an angry cry that none of the others evev knew he was capable of.

"The mages have corrupted your friend, turned it into a demon." Rajmael realized.

"Yes." Solas confirmed despondently, with anger cracking beneath the surface. "A spirit becomes a demon when denied its original purpose."

"So the mages didn't summon your friend because they wanted knowledge, they simply summoned it to use as a weapon, an action that turned away from its true purpose." Rajmael found the whole truth of this despicable.

"So it would seem." Solas seethed.

"A mage! You're not with the bandits?" Cried a well-fed but ragged man in his late twenties who came out from behind one of the rock formations followed by his fellows, all with a look of relief on their face. Judging from their tattered robes, these were the mages who summoned the spirit, and also judging from their weak, they had been fighting something. "Do you have any lyrium? My friends and I are exhausted. We've been fighting that demon..."

"You _summoned_ that demon! Except that it was a spirit of wisdom at the time." Solas accused viciously. "You made it kill. You twisted it against its own purpose!"

"I...I-I understand how i-it might be c-confusing for some wh-whose never studied d-demons," The mage stammered. "but after you help us, I can..."

"We are not here to help _you_." Solas seethed angrily.

"Word of advice, shem: don't even _attempt_ trying to educate Solas about spirits and demons." Rajmael warned. "All you'll do is piss him off more than he already is."

"Listen to me!" The mage urged. "I was the foremost expert on demonology in the Kirkwall Circle of..."

"Shut. Up!" Solas ordered. "You summoned it to protect you from the bandits, didn't you?!"

"I...yes." The mage confessed with guilt.

"You bound it to obedience, then commanded it to kill. That is when it turned into_ that_!" Solas hissed, pointing at the demon. He turned his attention away from the mage and looked to the Inquisitor pleadingly. "The summoning circle. If we break it, we break the binding. No orders to kill, no conflict with its nature, no demon."

"What?!" The mage asked aghast. "The binding circle is the only thing keeping that demon from killing us! Whatever it was before, it's a monster now!"

"I'm afraid I agree." Vivienne interjected. "This thing is a demon. Better to be rid of it now than let it continue to be a threat."

"Demons, not good. Breaking demon cage-thingy, not good. But lots of arrows? That's really good!" Sera insisted.

"She doesn't want to be like this, but can't remember what she was. She doesn't deserve to die." Cole spoke.

"Inquisitor, please." Solas pleaded desperately.

Everything Rajmael knew to be right and just told him exactly what he needed to do. "Keeper Deshana showed me rituals like this and passed them on to other members of my tribe. I think we can disrupt the circle quickly."

"Thank you." Solas sighed relieved. The former spirit of wisdom shattered the magical binds keeping it down and roared with a hateful cry that split the air. It wanted the blood of those mages, and it wanted it now. "We must hurry!"

"Everyone, attack the summoning pillars! Solas, you need to distract the spirit. Keep it off of the rest of us." Rajmael ordered.

The foolish mages scurried, lest they become the demon they created fist target. Solas conjured a barrier around himself and tried to bait his corrupted friend away from the others as they tried to bring down the binding pillars of ice. The elven apostate's barrier held strong against the demon's attacks as he nimbly evaded and avoided its vicious, man-sized claws. It conjured a pair of immense chains of lightning in its claws and began to furiously batter Solas down. Solas refused to attack his friend despite how badly he was being attacked. He focused all his magic into keeping his barrier strong and hoped that Rajmael and the others could stop this quickly. Not to save him, but to save his friend.

These wards the mages erected to summon and hold the spirit were made from ice, and the conjuration was shabby at the very least. Either these mages were merely novices, or they were too desperate or damned stupid to understand what they were doing. The wards couldn't hold back the demon's anger, but they were still preventing it from returning to its true nature. They had to be destroyed if they were to free the spirit, and they needed to do it fast before Solas was killed by the very friend he came to save.

With Solas keeping the demon at bay, Rajmael and the others were able to break down the barriers. The binding circle exploded in a halo of white and the Pride Demon's visage crumbled away, leaving behind the image of a beautiful spirit. This was the Spirit of Wisdom's true form, not the grotesque monstrosity the mages bound and wanted to kill. To Rajmael, the Spirit of Wisdom's true form looked like that of a beautiful elven maiden with eyes glowing like fiery jade. She sat upon the grass where she stood, weak and tired. Rajmael could feel her life force, it was weak, barely holding on and in horrible pain. She had lost too much of herself to that demonic form that she transformed into. The agony she was in must have been unimaginable.

Solas knelt before his dying friend with deep sorrow and regret in his eyes. Rajmael could hear them both speaking in the ancient elvhen tongue so flawlessly, like it was their native language.

"Lethalin, ir abelas." Solas spoke. "My friend, I am sorry."

"Tel-abelas. Enasal. Ir tel-him. I am not sorry. I am happy. I am me again." The spirit said with bitter sweetness, and looked on her friend with pleading eyes. "Ma melava helani. Mala suledin nadas. Ma ghilana min din'an. You helped me. Now you must endure. Guide me into death."

Pain swept across Solas' face, but he held it back. He knew what he had to do. "Ma nuvenin. As you wish." Solas lifted his hands to her and freed her from her pain. She left the world like dust in the wind with a radiant smile of pure joy. "Dareth shiral. Farewell."

While the others looked on Solas' sorrow not knowing what he said, Rajmael heard and understood every word he spoke. But more importantly, Rajmael understood what Solas was feeling. That horrible loss that can only be felt when something you love so dearly has been cruelly stolen from you. It was a feeling Rajmael was all too familiar with.

"I heard what your friend said, Solas. And she was right, you did all you could. You helped her as only a true friend could." Rajmael counseled.

"And now I must endure." Solas said sadly.

"I...am more than familiar with loss, Solas. Let me know if I can help." Rajmael offered genuinely.

Solas rose from where he knelt and looked at Rajmael with a sad smile. "You already have." The elven apostate's eyes turned to the mages who committed this crime and became full of rage. "All that remains now is _them_."

"Thank you for what you did." The well-fed mage who summoned the spirit thanked, his compatriots standing behind him. "We would not have risked a summoning, but the roads are too dangerous to travel unprotected."

"You! You tortured and killed my friend!" Solas hissed hatefully with murder in his eyes. Rajmael could feel the rage and power building up in the older elf.

"We didn't know. It was just a spirit!" The mage pleaded, cowardly backing away. "Th-the book said it could help us!" But Solas did not care, just as these mages did not care. He was going to kill them in the blink of an eye, and there was nothing they could do about it.

"Solas, wait." Rajmael beckoned sorrowfully. "Ignorance destroys wisdom. But nor does vengeance ever honor wisdom. If you kill them like this, you will only dishonor everything your friend was."

Solas glared down at the groveling mage, cringing in fear like a desperate child. In a single act of ignorant desperation and disregard for something they deemed lesser than themselves, they robbed the world of one of its most precious beings. Everything inside him wanted to kill, destroy, them just like they did to his friend. But Solas stayed his hand, the need to murder quelled within him.

"Never again." Solas seethed angrily.

The mage stood from the puddle he was now standing in, and he and his fellows scurried off.

"I...I need some time alone." Solas said brokenheartedly. "I will meet you back at Skyhold."

Rajmael watched Solas walk off with anguish in every footstep. Rajmael knew that walk all too well. It was the pain and sorrow that held down his own footsteps after his parent were killed, when Eva was made an orphan. It was the agony he has felt in every step he has made ever since he killed Nethras with his own hands. Solas just needed to some time to get used to walking that way, but he would walk well. Rajmael knew he would.

**Later At Skyhold...**

Solas finally walked back through Skyhold's gates. His anguish was still there, but he walked without it hindering his step. The two elves met as Solas made his way into the lower courtyard.

"Inquisitor." Solas addressed respectfully.

"How...how are you feeling now?" Rajmael asked carefully.

"It hurts. It always will, but I will survive." Solas assured.

"You were gone for a while. Where did you go?"

"I went to quite place and slept, and traveled to the place where my friend once dwelled." Solas answered sadly. "It is empty now, but there are stirrings of energy in the Void. Someday something new may grow there."

"You're saying your friend may return someday?"

Solas shook his head, wishing it could be true. "No. Death is different for spirits than it is for mortals, but no less final to them. Their energy returns to the Fade, and if the idea giving the spirit form is strong, or if the memory has shaped other spirits, it may return again. But it would have a new personality, new memories. It would not be the friend I knew."

"I know what it's like to lose people that were close to me. If you need to talk, I can listen." Rajmael consoled. "And thank you for returning."

"You were a true friend when I needed one, and you did more than most would have in such circumstances. I could hardly abandon you now." Solas said thankfully.

**Present time...**

It had been a while since Rajmael and Solas last spoke. Rajmael felt it was necessary to give their residential Fade expert some time to himself. Rajmael made his way through the rotunda to check in on any reports Leliana might have when he was approached by Solas. The elder elf had a conflicted look on his face.

"Is something wrong, Solas?" Rajmael inquired.

"No...nothing is wrong. It's just that...might we speak privately?" Solas asked with mixed discomfort and anxiety.

The two elves made their way to the balcony in Rajmael's quarters. And still, Solas didn't seem very comfortable.

"Inquisitor, what were you like? Before the Anchor?" Solas finally asked. "Has it affected you? Changed you in anyway? Your mind, your morals, your...your spirit?"

Rajmael wasn't sure if he understood the question. "Aside from the fact that it catapulted me into leading an army of people against every manner of weirdness and horror in the name of survival, no. Not really, no. I've pretty much always been a mild-mannered smart-ass, or so my Keeper always yelled at me. Why do you ask?"

A wave of nostalgia came over Solas, as though he were recalling some distant memory he had forgotten. "You show a wisdom I have not seen since...since my deepest journeys into the most ancient memories of the Fade. You...are not what I expected."

That actually surprised Rajmael more than anything Solas had ever said to him. "You were expecting someone a bit more ruthless? Maybe Aedan Cousland?"

"That...wouldn't be too far from the truth." Solas chuckled. "Most people are predictable. Most people would use this Inquisition as a blunt instrument in their rise to power. But not you. You have shown subtlety in your actions, a wisdom that goes against everything I could have expected." Solas paused thoughtfully for a moment. "If the Dalish could raise someone with a spirit like yours...have...have I misjudged them?"

Rajmael smiled proudly. "I am only what my people have taught me to be, and I would not be the man I am today without them. The Dalish are far from perfect, and we are nothing compared to what our ancestors were, but we do are best to honor to the ancient ways and what they represent."

"I suppose that is it. It must be." Solas acknowledged respectfully. "Most people act with so little understanding of the world. But not you."

"So what does this all mean, harhen?"

Solas paused again, as though he wanted to give the right answer. "It...it means that I respect you greatly, and all the you've done. And I have taken enough of your time for one day." Solas nodded his head to the younger elf respectfully, and walked out of the room.

Rajmael stood there in his room, confused by what Solas had said. Was his very nature truly so surprising to the elven apostate? And even if it was, why did Solas seem so conflicted about it? But what Rajmael said about his people having such a profound influence on him was true. Were it not for the Dalish rescuing him, Rajmael would have been killed by the Chantry's bigotry. And even if he hadn't been condemned to such a fate, Rajmael didn't want to think what his life would have been without the Dalish. Would he be proud to be an elf, or even be the same man he is, or would he have been just another nameless, faceless mage living under the Chantry's scrutiny with his life held in the hands of the Templars? No. The Dalish, his clan and adopted parents taught him how to become the man he is. And it was all he would ever be.

**~XoXoXoXo~**

Rajmael wanted to talk to Varric so they could discuss the criminal reports stating that the Red Templars were using criminal world connections to smuggle red lyrium. When he reached Varric's usual spot near the fireplace in the Main Hall, he was surprised to see the talkative dwarf was already deeply engaged in a conversation with a dwarven woman. But judging from how quietly they spoke, how that woman looked like she was trying to hide her face, and that bewildered look on Varric's face, it didn't appear to be a fun conversation.

Now at this point in time, after everything they'd been through as comrades, Rajmael knew by heart that trouble and shady dealings clung to Varric like his shadow. It was part of his personality. That, and being able to utterly piss off certain women in positions of authority that are able to kill anything with a sword and shield, like Cassandra or Knight-Captain Aveline back in Kirkwall. Most of the time, Varric was very good keeping the incriminating part of his lifestyle hidden and away from everyone else, especially Cassandra.

But when Rajmael saw Varric was talking to a hooded dwarven woman that he had never seen before, and was miserably trying to cover up the fact that he was acting suspicious and trying to hide something, the Inquisitor knew there was something wrong. And if Varric had a problem, that meant everyone else was going to have a problem. Better find out what Varric's problem is before it bit them all in the ass.

"Look, I appreciate the warning, but you shouldn't have come here yourself." Varric said with an almost foreign sound of worry in his voice. "What if the guild found out? Or Whatshisface?

"Aw, you're worried. That's cute." The hooded dwarven woman laughed quietly. "For me, or for yourself?"

"A touch of one and a splash of the other." Varric evaded. "After all, I am the expendable one, and I haven't exactly endeared myself to the rest of the Merchant's Guild."

"Oh, don't you worry, Varric. I'll protect you. We'll just have to...Well, who is this?" Both dwarves' attention to the elf that happened upon their not so private conversation. "You must be the Inquisitor. Bianca Davri, at your service."

Rajmael knew that whatever they were talking about was probably really important with lives at stake, but that wasn't his main concern this second. "Wait a minute. Did you say your name is 'Bianca'? As is in, the same as the crossbow that Varric likes to fondle intimately, whisper sweet nothings, and talk dirty to? That Bianca?"

Varric face palmed himself in embarrassment trying to hide his face while the dwarven Bianca eyed him curiously with a bemused smile on her face. That probably wasn't the most tact thing Rajmael could have said in front of Varric's friend.

"Yeah, sure, let's go with that." Bianca laughed under her breath. "It's a more huggable name than 'Helga'. I lucked out."

"Then I take it you're a friends of Varric's?"

"But of course. Who isn't a friend of Varric's? I mean, you've met him, right?" Bianca smiled evasively.

"Then why do you two look like that guilty look like you're a couple of teenagers seeing each other behind your parents' back?" Rajmael observed keenly.

"She's taken a huge risk coming here herself. Maybe for both of us." Varric answered seriously. "Well, maybe more for me."

"You're such a worrier! There's a giant hole in the sky. I think the Merchant's Guild's got bigger things to worry about right now." Bianca insisted.

"Bianca's got a lead on where Corypheus is getting his Red Lyrium." Varric said grimly.

"It's coming from the site of Bartrand's folly. That ancient, long lost thaig they found in the Deep Roads? Its location has been leaked." Bianca informed. "There's a Deep Roads entrance in Ferelden crawling with strange humans carting out strange Red Lyrium by the handful."

Rajmael shook his head incredulously. "Wait a minute. You're saying that these guys are carrying Red Lyrium from the deepest place in the Deep Roads, way out in the Free Marches, and they are somehow carrying it into Ferelden?"

"But of course. The at the height of the Dwarven Empire Deep Roads once encompassed the entire world, making it easy to travel from one end of Thedas to the other. Most of them fell when the darkspawn came. And the roads have fallen into ruin since then." Bianca answered. "So if you've got an entrance going in and out somewhere, you don't deviate. Otherwise you could fall into a cavern, a lava pit, or a darkspawn nest. One problem after the other."

"But that doesn't explain how Corypheus of all people could have found the thaig. Who leaked it to him?"

Varric sighed wearily. "There were a few other people who knew. Hirelings from the expedition, a few close friends, and according to Warden Commander Howe, Bartrand sold the location to the Wardens. So I wouldn't be surprised if they're the ones who told him."

"How they found out isn't important. What matters is that we know where they are now." Bianca interjected.

"Then how do you tie into all of this, Bianca?" Rajmael inquired curiously. "How do you know about the thaig's location and who's carting the lyrium?"

"Because I told her." Varric answered flatly. "After the expedition, I wrote to Bianca and told her what we found down there. I had artifacts that needed buyers, and she had contacts that could pay for them. Plus, I owed her."

Rajmael paused for a moment. If Varric, who barely took his _own_ duties seriously, believed that this was important, then it must be. "Alright. As long as Corypheus and his Red Templars have even a single source of red lyrium, they are that much more of a threat. We cannot let it spread any further than it already has."

"I couldn't agree more, Inquisitor." Varric concurred.

"I'll go keep an eye on the operation. If you're interested in shutting the operation down, you've got my help." Bianca looked over to Varric invitingly. "Don't keep waiting to long, Varric. You're not the only one with things to do, you know."

The Dalish elf and surface dwarf watched Bianca make her way out of the keep. Despite the key value of this information and the immense danger this operation posed, Rajmael couldn't help but pass a mischievous grin to his dwarven companion.

"Well, Varric, I have to admit, I didn't think even you were that slick, but shooting bolts with two Bianca's at the same time? You must feel like the luckiest dwarf on the surface." Rajmael complimented.

"Not as lucky as you might think, Inquisitor. I just know this is going to be trouble." Varric said uncharacteristically worried.

Rajmael had never known Varric to be so worried about anything so seriously. Even after they first met in Haven after the Conclave was destroyed. This was something deeply personal to Varric. "Does something to do with that one story you said you'll never tell?"

"It has to do with a lot of things, but yeah, that's definitely a major factor here." Varric answered somberly.

"Do you trust Bianca? The information that she gave you?"

"Eh, she's far too much of a researcher to not have gotten false information. But if you're asking me whether she's using us or trying to set us up? Yeah, maybe. I wouldn't put it past her." Varric's tone was remarkably honest. "But she risked the wrath of the Merchant's Guild to deliver this information in person. If she thinks it's that important, then it has to be the real thing."

"I'll get the others ready then. We can't let Corypheus have any access to red lyrium. Even the smallest amount can cause untold damage."

**Later back at the Gates of Valammar in Ferelden...**

Rajmael couldn't help but want to kick his own ass returning here. Back when he was first starting out with the Inquisition and they were moving to hold the Hinterlands, they discovered a carta smuggling ring that was hiring mercenaries to act as bandits to distract the Inquisition's forces from finding this ancient thaig they were using to smuggle lyrium to both the rebel mages and renegade Templars. And then it turned out to be filled with darkspawn, which they ended up having to exterminate. If Rajmael had known that this place would end up being used by Corypheus' minions to supply him with the heinous red lyrium, Rajmael would have posted soldiers here to make sure no one else used this place for smuggling.

Everyone quietly made their way through the cave entrance. The last thing they needed was to alert an unknown number of hostiles in a crumbling dwarven outpost.

"There you are! I've been waiting here for so long I was beginning to think you weren't coming." Bianca called, emerging from the shadows and scaring Varric nearly to death.

"Nobody said you had to wait in the creepy cave while you were waiting for us." Varric chided.

"Well, I did wait, and it's a good thing I did. These idiots are carrying this red lyrium out in unprotected containers. We need to shut these guys down now." Bianc informed.

"Strange." Rajmael observed. "You knew how to scout this place? How did you know about the location of this thaig, this whole operation? You said there are hundreds of Deep Roads."

"I've used this entrance before. Varric's not the only surface dwarf to explore the Deep Roads you know?" Bianca inisited. "Imagine my surprise to come back here only to find it filled with strange humans carting off that strange red lyrium. Now come on, let's get going. We don't want to be here long enough for it start 'singing' to us."

Rajmael quirked an eyebrow curiously. "Singing? That isn't common knowledge to anyone outside the Inquisition or Corypheus' followers. How is it you know so much about red lyrium?"

"I told her about it." Varric answered honestly. "She's one of the people I contacted in the Merchant's and Smith's guilds to watch out for anyone using the stuff."

"Varric told m everything that idol made of red lyrium did to him...and to Bartrand." Bianca added. "Varric and I didn't want that happening to anyone else."

Bianca was a complete stranger to him, and he had no idea of whatever she knew, or what Varric had told her. After all the information that Varric fed Hawke, Rajmael wouldn't be surprised about the things she might be aware of. But now his curiosity was satisfied, for now. "Alright, let's get going. I hope you know how to handle yourself in a fight."

"No. I just thought I'd hang in the back cowering while you guys did all the hard work." Bianca said sarcastically, drawing a bow from a quiver on her back.

"She's a...decent shot." Varric admitted hesitantly.

"Decent?" Bianca repeated almost offended.

"You want me to admit that you're better than me? In front of the Inquisitor?" Varric complained.

"Let's just get going."

Everyone followed Bianca's lead into the cave, and it became painfully obvious that she was, in fact, a better shot than Varric, and she was just using a bow. Bianca, Varric and Sera silently shot down the sentries before they were spotted, while Cole stealthily moved ahead and assassinated what few guards there were by sinking his daggers into the jugular veins, hearts and brainstems. Vivienne and Solas used their magic to catch the dead guards were they fell so they wouldn't attract attention.

From what Rajmael could see, the hirelings here were not Venatori, and they didn't appear to be Red Templars. If they were Red Templars, then they must be the ones with the least amount of skill or use. There were too few guards posted, and the rest of them seemed to be here solely to cart the Red Lyrium. More than likely, Corypheus must have sent these paltry, weak few to harvest the ore he so desperately depended on. At this point, with the Inquisition shutting down all his other operations, Corypheus could not afford to waste anymore of his forces.

"So this is what you do these days?" Bianca asked, shooting the last sentry down like a quail.

"Pardon me?" Varric asked launching a bolt into an unknowing guard's ear.

"Skulking caves, shooting guys, fighting monsters. I this your day-to-day."

"For the most part. I usually try to avoid the caves." Varric shrugged. "You should here about the time I ended up falling through a rift and wound up physically in the Fade in the middle of demon invasion in a Grey Warden fortress."

A shocked disbelievingly look came over Bianca. "Are you serious, or just telling another tale?"

"I'm about as serious as a Blight, Bianca." Varric swore.

"Are you trying to give me a stroke, Varric?" Bianca chided. "That letter you sent me about the red lyrium was the first I heard about you since the Kirkwall Chantry exploded."

"Oh, had it been that long?"

"Seriously, if you'd have died in that mess, I would've gone back to Kirkwall just to dig you up and kick your ass." Bianca's chastisement was half serious, half playful.

"Yeah? What if I had been cremated? What would you do then?"

"Kick your ashes, of course."

Everyone couldn't help but be amused by the two dwarves' banter and attempts to mock one another like that was all they were trying to do. Bianca and Varric were trying so hard to act like they were just friends that it became painfully obvious that they were trying to ignore how crazy they were for each other. It was actually kind of sad how hard they were trying. Rajmael knew that kind of vain attempt to mask one's true feelings. He used to do it himself, a lot. Back when he was young after he had confessed his feelings to Evanura. He would often try to mask his feelings under a friendly, smart-mouthed façade.

Bianca led them to a wall right on the edge of one of the thaig's lower floors. Why had they stopped here?

"Ah, here we go." Bianca remarked looking at the door.

"What? This is just a dead end." Rajmael pointed out.

"That's exactly what I wanted people to think, and what these guys are probably counting on." Bianca enlightened as she felt around the stone door looking for something. "I built these doors to keep pesky intruders out, and I'll bet the rest of these idiots on the other side here are hoping for the same thing. It's impossible to open without the key, which I have." Bianca inserted a large, key-shaped rod into a crevice in the wall and turned it. The wall immediately fell and revealed the entrance on the other side.

"You've been to this thaig enough that you've been able to renovate it?" Rajmael questioned both curious and impressed.

"Well, yeah. I'm not sure how much Varric's told you, but the Merchant's Guild is pretty cutthroat, literally. If you want to make sure you get far in this guild, you make sure you cover your tracks so no unintended 'accidents' occurred. Plus, I didn't fancy having the local darkspawn just drop in to say hi."

"Well, don't just stand there, Inquisitor." Dorian urged clapping his hands lightly. "Give the lady an applause, that's what's she waiting for. I know I would be."

"Ah, yes. That was exactly what I was waiting for." Bianca said triumphantly.

"How do you propose we clear them out of there?" Cassandra inquired. "I assume you must have built defenses inside."

"I've already got that covered." Bianca grinned eagerly and produced an ordinary looking clay grenade smaller than a fist. But it had a strange bluish aura to it. What was she planning to do with that?

A look of shocked dread veiled over Varric's face. "Bianca? Is that what I think it is?"

"Oh, you know what you think it is, Varric." Bianca answered with her smile getting bigger.

"Aw, shit."

"Uh, do what, exactly?" Rajmael asked skeptically. "What's that little thing going to do, make fireworks?"

"You'll see, Inquisitor." Bianca answered, her smile at it's peak.

"You guys might all want to stand back and cover your ears." Varric insisted.

"Fire in the hole!" Bianca lit the tiny grenade's short fuse and chucked it into the occupied chamber through the revealed doorway. The entire inside of the chamber blew up in a powerful explosion of blue that sent a shockwave that knocked them off their feet and shook the whole thaig. Any and every smuggler and soldier that worked for Corypheus inside was now reduced to a thin red paste with meaty chunks all over the floor and walls, with the stray finger, tooth and eyeball laying around.

"What in Andraste's name was that?!" Cassandra asked in shock, trying to recover from the ringing in her head from the explosion.

"That was a lyrium bomb." Varric answered hesitantly.

"A lyrium bomb!?" Rajmael was hoping he heard wrong thanks to the grenade's explosion. "As in the kind of lyrium explosives that the Hero of Ferelden had commissioned in Amaranthine?! Tell me that's not what I heard."

"No, Inquisitor. You heard right." Varric groaned worriedly.

"What, why the long faces? It worked didn't it?" Bianca asked blithely.

"Yeah, they worked great, which is why I'm so worried, Bianca." Varric stated. "Do you have any idea what Aedan Cousland would do to you if he found out anyone but him or the Glavonaks were using that stuff?"

"I know I do." Iron Bull said with a sour look on his face. "Trust me, what he did to the Ben-Hessrath who tried to kill the dwarf who made those explosives and steal the formula has given a lot of agents nightmares."

"Oh, all this worry for little ol' me? I'm flattered fellas." Bianca giggled. "But you don't need to. I got these explosive from one of Dworkin Glavonak's cousins for a fair price. Told him I could make them more effective with a little tinkering, and I was right. And besides, I've been wanting to use those ever since I got a hold of 'em. You should come by my new workshop sometime soon and see the other things I've got."

"I'll try, but no promises. I just know your parents will kill me if go anywhere near you."

"They won't try to kill you, Varric." Bianca assured.

"You always say that, and they always send those assassins. Besides, I don't want to run into Whatshisname." Varric said almost grudgingly.

"Bogdan? I wouldn't worry about him. He's in Nevarra right now trying to sell it to wealthy landowners. That's how I was able to get the time to tinker with those bombs."

"Wait a minute." Iron Bull interrupted. "Varric. Your girlfriend makes weapons?"

"She's not my girlfriend, Tiny. But yeah, she does. And lots of other things. Really good ones, too." Varric answered.

"Oh, that is hot." Iron Bull grunted.

"Glad to see there are so many people outside the guild who appreciate my skills." Bianca laughed.

"I heard some people in the guild wanted to get you named a Paragon for that contraption." Varric remembered.

"Yeah, it was a pretty big deal. But it's never going to happen." Bianca said uninterested. "Even if I am ten times the smith Branka could ever wish to be, without the unhealthy obsession with a magic anvil. A surfacer Paragon? Never."

"You never know. It could happen." Varric believed. "Last I heard, Houses Dace, Bemot, and Meino were for the idea. Only Houses Aeducan, Vollney and Hirol remain undecided."

"I wouldn't hold my breath for it." Bianca waved off. "There's no way the Deep Lords in the Assembly would ever accept such a thing. May as well crown the Casteless as far as they're concerned."

"Perhaps we could continue these various and engaging conversations later, after we've completed the reason for being here in the first place?" Solas insisted.

"He's right. Let's get going." Rajmael agreed.

Biance led the way forward with an eager spring in her step, while some of them did their best not to step into the gory mess of blood and splintered bones that had been splattered all over the place thanks to the lyrium grenades. Hopefully, Aedan Couslands would never find out about it.

Bianca scoured through the wrecked room and even checked some of the bodies. What was she looking for?

"There you are!" Bianca exclaimed relieved. She pulled a key off one of the bodies. A key that looked exactly like the one she had, and used it to seal the smuggling entrance. "There! They won't be using this entrance anymore."

Suddenly, all the pieces were falling together. Rajmael and Varric exchanged a look of knowing, and in seconds realized what was going on. How Bianca knew about these men were smuggling red lyrium. How she knew about this operation, even when the Inquisition didn't. How these servants of the Elder One had a key just like hers.

"Bianca..." Varric said accusingly.

"You're the leak." Rajmael denounced seriously. "They had one of your keys. That was how they got in and out of here. And you're one of the only people in all of Thedas who knows where that ancient thaig beneath Kirkwall is."

"Look, it's not what you think." Bianca defended, realizing how busted she was. "When I got the location of that primeval thaig, I went there to see it for myself. I found the red lyrium and...studied it."

"You know what is does to people, Bianca. Maker's breath, I told you what it did to Bartrand!" Varric reminded bitterly.

"I was doing you a favor, Varric!" Bianca balked back. "You want to know about this stuff as much as I do. You _need_ to know more than I do. I just...wanted to figure it out."

"There's a is an astronomical gap between studying red lyrium and giving its location to Corypheus. How did you make that leap, Bianca?" Rajmael inquired.

Bianca shifted where she stood. "I found out that lyrium it...it has the Blight, Varric! Do you understand what that means?"

"That two of the most dangerous things I can think of combine form something super awful? And you allowed the worst thing to ever happen to this world have easy access to it?" Varric criticized.

"Lyrium is alive!" Bianca announced with the awe of discovery, but was quickly replaced with desperate explanation. "Or...something like it. The Blight only corrupts living things. Animals, plants, even water, but never minerals. I couldn't discover any more on my own, so I looked for a Grew Warden mage. Blight and magical expertise rolled into one, right?"

"And?" Varric and Rajmael asked in unison, both losing their patience.

"I found this Warden mage named Larius. He seemed really interested in my research and gave me all the insight he had, so I gave him my key."

"Larius? He was the Grew Warden Hawke and I met in Corypheus'...oh, shit." A shadow of dreaded realization came over the dwarf. "I knew, just knew something seemed off with that guy when he left. He was talking funny..."

"I didn't realize what exactly was going on until you said you found red lyrium in have." Bianca continued. "So I came here and...well...Then I went to you."

"I don't like being in the dark, Varric. Do you know who this Larius is? How does he fit into this mess?" Rajmael asked quizzically.

"Larius, former Warden-Commander of the Order in the Free Marches turned blight corrupted madman lost in an underground prison housing unimaginable evil." Varric answered sympathetically. "He was the Grey Warden who led us to Corypheus prison, and was the last Warden to strengthen the ancient wards using blood magic, thanks to Hawke's father, Malcolm. And he sure as shit wasn't a mage last time we saw him, but after what I saw Corypheus do to the Wardens at Adamant, nothing surprises me anymore."

Rajmael turned his attention to Bianca with anger in his eyes. "This whole time, this 'lead' you came all this way, risking the Merchant Guild's anger, was just a ruse. A ploy to clean up the mess you made."

"I know I screwed up, and that's why I came here!" Bianca defended. "And we fixed it didn't we? It's as right as I can make it."

"This isn't one of your damned machines, Bianca!" Varric hollered. "You can't just replace a part and expect everything to be fixed!"

"No, but I can try." Bianca defended sourly. "Or am I supposed to just wallow in my own mistakes, pretend I don't care about anything while kicking myself, and tell stories about what I should have done."

"Mythal enaste! Why don't you to just go get a room and work this out? You two argue like an old sexually frustrated married couple. Or my step-parents when they wanted to relieve their frustration." Rajmael cringed and shuttered at that disturbing memory, and then turned his attention back to the bickering dwarves. "Varric warned you how incredibly dangerous this red lyrium is, and because you weren't wise enough to listen and leave well enough alone, you gave Corypheus the resources he needed to do untold damage, not to mention all the people who've been killed just by being too close to his stuff. And Varric, Bianca did what she did because she wanted to help you, maybe whatever she discovered can teach us how to undo the red lyrium. And she came all the way out here to fix here mistake, and make sure you didn't get hurt. And without her help, we might never have learned where Corypheus was getting his lyrium."

The two surface dwarves broke off their argument, but the damage was done.

"We've done all we can here, Bianca. You'd better get home before someone misses you." Varric said sadly.

"Look, Varric..." Bianca beseeched.

"Just forget about it." Varric turned away and trudged out of the room.

Bianca looked as Varric walked away with depression in her eyes before turning to the Inquisitor with a deathly serious glare. "Get him killed, Inquisitor, and I'll feed you your own eyeballs with a melon scoop."

Rajmael couldn't help but laugh. Such a threat coming from her was almost cute. "Lady, I sleep with Cassandra Pentaghast. You're gonna have to step it up a notch if you want to intimidate me."

**Later back at Skyhold...**

It was late in the day now, and Bianca had made her leave. For obvious reasons, she probably didn't want to overstay her welcome. But what concerned Rajmael was why Varric chose not to see her off, or even say goodbye. Varric was burned pretty badly and was probably nursing his emotional wounds. And when Rajmael found him at his usual spot by the fireplace, that was exactly what the dwarf was doing. And he was doing it pretty hard.

"I'm glad to have answers, but...shit. I knew her coming here was trouble." Varric sulked. "I let this happen. I gave her the thaig. And I am no good with dealing with shit like this. Andraste's ass, it seems like any time I involve anyone with anything I put them in danger or bring ruin to someone else."

"I doubt there's anyone out there in the whole damned world who knows how to put up with situations like this, Varric." Rajmael counseled. "My life has been one big shit-storm even before I went to the Conclave."

"No, it's not just that..." Varric shook miserably. "If Cassandra hadn't dragged me here I'd be in Kirkwall drowning myself at the Hanged Man pretending none of this was happening!"

"You and I both know that's not true, Varric." Rajmael insisted. "You've done more than anyone else here to try and stop Corypheus. You even risked life and limb to protect Hawke, even with Cassandra breathing down your neck. You're not someone who hides when things get ugly."

"Is that true? I don't even know any more." Varric sighed. The dwarf shook the self pity off his face and looked at his leader with gratitude. "Thanks for what you did back there, Inquisitor."

"Even after all this, do you still think you'll meet Bianca again?" Rajmael asked curiously.

Varric smiled that confident grin of his. "I always do."

"I saw the way you two looked at each other, how hard you were trying to act like 'just friends'. Why aren't the two of you together?"

"It's_ really_ complicated." Varric shifted uncomfortably. After what just happened with Bianca, Rajmael earned some answers. "We literally can't be together. Usually because there's a continent always separating us, but mostly because of the fact that there's not too many people in the Merchant's Guild who want us to be together. Like Bianca's parents, for example. So we write letters, and now and again manage to meet up when no one's looking."

This was confusing. "But you two are so perfect for each other! Why would anyone want to interfere with two surface dwarves with predilection for dishonesty from being together?"

"Bianca's parents are kalnas, surface dwarves so conservative and traditional, they don't stop to take a piss without asking the Ancestors if they should wash their hands or not." Varric explained.

"As a Dalish elf, I guess I shouldn't be surprised that some surface dwarves aspire to be what their forefathers were." Rajmael understood better than most why some would forsake everything for even the memory and aspiration to be as great as the ancestors. "House Tethras is an influential member of the Dwarven Merchant's Guild. Why would they disapprove of you?"

"House Tethras' position in the Guild was all thanks to Bartrand. And that wasn't enough." Varric clarified dismally. "Bianca is beyond a doubt the most brilliant smith that you'll ever meet. "They didn't think the younger son of a disgraced, exiled Noble House was good enough for her. Plus, they didn't like my lack of appreciation for the Ancestors. So instead, the picked a nice little Smith Caste boy who was wealthy, respected, has a fancy anvil collection, and barely notices when Bianca is even in the house. The perfect husband."

Now that came as shock to the Inquisitor. "Wait, a minute. She's married?!"

"Oh, yeah. I heard the wedding was lovely. The one Bianca actually showed up for, anyway." Varric said blithely. "So, as you can tell, Bianca and I can't be together."

Rajmael keenly watched as Varric's hand caressed his most prized possession. "Does any of this have to do your crossbow? Bianca made it didn't she?"

Varric sighed deeply with sadness and regret. "It's not as simple as that. The Carta thinks Bianca was a freak success created by a Carta dwarf who couldn't duplicate it. And if they found out someone else was involved...well, things would get really bad. And we almost caused a clan war while we were at it. It's the one story I can never tell, for good reason. If the Guild found out that I was even within a hundred leagues of her, they'd freeze my assets and send assassins after me, not exactly in that order. So, as you can see, Bianca and I can't be together."

"I know what that's like, Varric." Rajmael tried to say comfortingly. "To love a woman you can't have. No matter the circumstance, that always stings."

"Yeah, except you were able to find someone else. It may be someone as scary as Cassandra, but still. For me, there is no one else."

"Well, then maybe you and I should go get some drinks sometime. We can drown our regrets in ale until the alcohol in our systems poisons our livers and kills us." Rajmael laughed.

"You know, I think I'll take you up on that offer, Inquisitor." Varric said gregariously. "What do you say you give me a little bit and I'll convince the others to get together for a night of drinks and wicked grace? Maker knows we deserve one."

Rajmael couldn't help but grin with anticipation. Everyone, himself especially, had been on edge for too long without a moment to stop and take a breath. Maybe not worry about the dire state of the world they're trying to save. Plus, it would pretty fun to have everyone let their guards down and watch their coin get swiped in a game of cards. That would be funny.

**That Night, Much Later...**

This was a sight worthy of an epic song all on its own. Not a battle scene, not a sight of victory, or a heartfelt tragedy. It was a night of drinks and gambling with the most prominent members of the Inquisition. Just as Varric said he would, he got everyone he could to attend this worthy cause of foolish choices. All except Solas, Leliana and Vivienne, it was hard to convince those two to let their guard down, make fools of themselves or even have fun.

At this point in the game, almost everyone was deep in their cups, even Cullen was starting to forget about breaches of decorum. What came as a huge surprise was the fact that Josephine of all people was winning. Iron Bull was drinking everyone under the table while Dorian and Blackwall did their best to keep up. And Sera drank so much that she _passed out_ under the table. Even Cole was having fun. Rajmael was pleased to see Cassandra lose that tough exterior of hers and just relax for one night. Even amongst all the tragedy and terror they faced, they deserved to have one night of drinks and laughs.

"And then Hawke walks away from the cliff, never looking back in the true badass fashion, and says 'It looks like the Duke...has fallen from grace.'" Everyone laughed as Varric recited the caper of when he and Hawke broke into Chateau Haine.

"That is how Duke Prosper died?" Josephine smiled almost disbelievingly. "You know, that sounds just perfect for him."

"Ha! Red-headed elves are always sexy and full of trouble." Iron Bull laughed.

Rajmael quaffed down another glass of Coastland whiskey and slammed it to the table. "Tell you what, everybody, lesh raish the shtakes here now." The Inquisitor slurred. "I'm drunk enough to think itsh'a good idea to shtop betting boring coinsh, and bet shomething we really don't wanna looshe."

"Why, Inquisitor, you expect us to take advantage of our own comrades when they are drunk and liable to make foolish decisions in the midst of gambling? Great idea!" Dorian laughed.

"I have to admit, that sounds like fun. Deal me in." Blackwall agreed.

"This is so scandalous, Inquisitor. But let's do it anyway. It's been so long since I had so much fun." Josephine giggled.

"Ha. Now it's a party! Varric chuckled. "All we're missing is a certain Rivaini pirate who would bet what little clothing she had, then fleece you all in a heartbeat."

"I'm in. At this point, I know everyone's tells, especially yours, Ambassador." Cullen warned.

The Ambassador had a grin on her face that could shame a fox. "Now, Commander. A lady has now tells."

"Some people bet more than what they can afford to lose, but still do it anyway. Why?" Cole asked.

"Gambling addictions is one of the most popular human pastimes, Kid." Varric answered.

"Gold-spriggers in the trees!" Sera shouted nonsensically before going back into an alcohol induced coma.

"Ssho, come on! What are betting?" Rajmael asked drunkenly.

"I am not sure this is such a good idea. Perhaps we shouldn't." Cassandra said unusually tentatively. Her apprehensiveness was half because she wasn't one to let her guard down so easy, the other half was because she was still not very good at this game and was afraid to lose.

"Come one, Cassandra. Live a little!" Rajmael insisted. "Going out onto the battlefield shouldn't be the only risk you're not afraid to take."

"At least on a battlefield I know how likely I am to win or lose." Cassandra argued.

"You might want to change your mind, Seeker." Varric taunted. "Because what I'm betting right here, is the first twenty pages of my next volume of 'Sword &amp; Shields'. But if you don't want in on the actions 'cause you're afraid, well then, I guess I don't blame you."

Cassandra's eyes lit with fire and knew what she needed to do. "Alright, I'm in. But what should I bet?"

"Something you're not too keen to lose, but can afford to." Cullen suggested grinningly. "We wouldn't want to strip you of all your dignity and pride."

"From personal experience, I know the perfect thing you could bet, Lady Cassandra." Josephine leaned over and whispered something into Cassandra's ear that made her face turn red.

"Really, Josephine? That's what you'd recommend." Cassandra blushed, Josephine nodded her head and giggled.

"You just have to ask yourself one thing, Seeker: how badly do you want it?" Varric goaded.

The Seeker finally gave into her temptations, slammed her hand to the table and made her bet. "Let's do this, before my better judgment gets the better of me."

**An Hour Later...**

Everyone made their bets and played their hands one last time. And to everyone's shock, surprise, and horror, Josephine won the whole pot. It turned out Rajmael wasn't half as drunk as he made himself out to be, and lasted the longest, before losing his pants. Because Josephine won, no one would get what she gambled, much to some of their dismay: a passionate and coveted Antivan kiss. Cullen foolishly bet every strip of clothing he had and was forced to run back to the barracks without even a rag to cover his bits. Cole apprehensively bet his beloved hat, but he knew Josephine would return it to him. Blackwall wagered a fifteen year old bottle of Starkhaven port that he wasn't too happy to see go. Dorian bet a rare, priceless Tevinter ring he brought with him from his homeland, but was going to hock it anyway. Iron Bull tossed his eye patch into the pot and showed off the scarred, hollowed hole under where his eye used to be, much to everyone's discomfort. But what was most shocking of all was when Cassandra stepped outside the room, came back and moment later and, for the sake of getting a twenty page sneak peek of her favorite book series, threw a pair of very lacy, and very, very risqué, pair of panties into the pot. Rajmael was impressed with the courage it took Cassandra to do that, and was now deeply interested in what else she was wearing under her armor. Just the thought of it gave him almost gave him a nosebleed.

"Don't you say a word, dwarf." Cullen warned naked in his chair.

"I tried to warn you, Curly." Varric chuckled. It was so hard to take Cullen seriously when he was wearing nothing but his birthday suit.

"It comes off! I didn't know it could come off." Cole gasped in surprise, his messy hair almost obscuring his eyes.

"And I thought the same thing about your hat, Cole. We all learn something new everyday." Dorian joked.

"Does that Blackwall's can take his beard off?" Cole asked innocently.

"Not today, Cole. I like it right where it is." Blackwall informed.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let this serve to remind you never to be against an Antivan." Josephine bragged in an unusually haughty tone. And in a very dignified, ladylike, yet also very Antivan manner collected her winnings, but before she returned Cole's hat and half of everyone at the table witnessed poor Commander Cullen's hurried walk of shame back to the barracks, his bare ass shining in the moonlight.

With everyone else leaving to lick their gambling wounds and sleep off the booze for the night, Rajmael looked at Cassandra with a seductive smile on her face, one she welcomed with a sultry smile. Both of them, especially Cassandra, thanks to the drinks and cards, had let go of their inhibitions for this night of fun. Now they wanted to go somewhere more private for some fun just for them, and take off the rest of the clothes they didn't bet. Cassandra was almost grateful to Varric for convincing her to enjoy herself at least for one night with her comrades as friends. Now she would enjoy the rest of the night with Rajmael as lovers. This night of fun was far from over for her.

**Author's Note:**

**Okay! First, let me apologize to anyone who was in the middle of reading my last post. Please let me explain.**

**Someone I know, who shall remain nameless, thought he was helping me by posting the last chapter for me.**

**But that was an incomplete document that I meant to turn into two chapters because of how ling it was.**

**I have gotten a _LOT _of angry PMs since then.**

**It was not my intention to troll, t-bag, or in any other way tick anyone off or confuse them.**

**Please, leave me a review and tell me what you think of this chapter, and not bust my chops over this mistake.**

**I will be posting my next chapter later this week.**


	31. Saying Goodbye

**Saying Goodbye**

Cassandra made herself quite cozy in her favorite spot in the entire castle: in Rajmael's arms. The two of them were laying comfortably together in Rajmael's bed. Even now with the world facing the apex of evil, and even after all the years she spent as a Seeker, Cassandra never felt more at peace than when she was with him. It seemed a little unfair that she was here feeling such a joy with him while so many others were suffering and had so little, but she couldn't help it. This is where she wanted to be, what she wanted more than anything.

Cassandra had to admit, she had more fun at the game of wicked grace than she anticipated. At first she was apprehensive to want to join, especially since it was Varric who invited her. Shortly after the game was over, Cassandra and Rajmael went to his quarters to blow off even more steam. And after several blissfully long hours of intimate passion, Cassandra found herself laying in his arms again.

Never in all her years serving the Chantry had Cassandra known such happiness. All her years in service to the Divine was in the pursuit of duty and nothing else. Anyone who takes up the sword for a cause does not do so in the hopes of finding joy. Even with the world ending around them and all the disdain he had for the Chantry, Rajmael looked passed her faults and the differences between their races and religion, and gave his heart to her. There isn't anywhere else in the world she wanted to be right now than with him. Cassandra nestled closer into Rajmael's chest and began letting herself drift off into a peaceful sleep listening to her love's gentle heartbeat. She always slept so well with his heart beneath her ear.

Thump. Thump. Thump!

That was not Rajmael's heartbeat. Something was hitting against the balcony door. Cassandra rose from the comfort of the bed and the warmth of her lover to see what it could possibly be. And she kept sword in hand. This castle was so high in the mountains and this room was in the tallest tower in the building. Aside from birds, nothing else should get this high up.

She wrapped a robe around herself and cautiously walked to balcony door and saw nothing. Did the wind blow something all the way up here? Cassandra opened the door and the instant the hinges started moving, something burst into the room and flew right past her. It happened so fast Cassandra didn't even see what it was, but it landed on Rajmael's desk. Cassandra could hardly believe what just intruded in here, almost scaring her to death, and was now staring at her with a pair of large, bright yellow eyes in a heart-shaped face. A barn owl, of all things. The night-bird just sat there quietly, staring at Cassandra as though it wanted something.

"Cassandra? What's wrong?" Rajmael asked rising from his bed.

"This...foul bird just flew in here and sat itself on your desk." Cassandra answered, upset that this bird interrupted her blissful sleep.

Rajmael looked at the owl sitting on his desk and toppling the carved totems of the Creators he had sitting there. A look of bewilderment came over his face as the barn owl looked right back at him. "I don't believe it...Tylluan?"

The white owl flapped its wings and shrieked in confirmation.

Cassandra sheathed her sword. "Is this owl familiar to you, Rajmael?"

"Tylluan is...is Keeper Deshana's owl. What's he doing here?" Rajmael took a closer look at the bird. "It looks like he has some kind of message." Rajmael unclasped the small message tied to Tylluan's talon and held it in his hand. "Thank you, Tylluan. You can go home now." The barn owl cried in thanks, beat it wings and created a small gust of wind as flew back out of the tower. Rajmael's eyes scanned the message that Tylluan had flown all the way from Wycome to deliver. He folded the message in his hand and a veil of pain came over his face. "Oh, no..."

"Rajmael? What's wrong?" Cassandra asked deeply concerned. "Did something happen to Eva?"

"No, Eva is safe." Rajmael answered forlornly. "No, it's...it's someone else. It's my father, he...he's dying."

**The Next Morning...**

Rajmael had summoned his War Council and the rest of his company also gathered in the War Room. The message he received from his Keeper deeply troubled him and decided to explain what he was going to do. This was not something he could just ignore.

"But I don't understand.." Leliana said confused. "I thought you said your father was killed when you were still a child."

"Junnarel is my step-father. He rescued me when I was condemned to burn, and adopted me into his family." Rajmael answered solemnly. "I would be dead now if it weren't for him."

"This is terrible news. Inquisitor, I...I am so sorry." Josephine spoke sincerely.

"What...what are you planning to do, Inquisitor?" Cullen asked.

"I am going to head over to Wycome, and I am going to speak to Junnarel again before he dies." Rajmael stated determinedly.

A slight wave of surprise went through everyone in the room. This was quite an unexpected course of action. And not one everyone thought was a good idea.

"Forgive me, Inquisitor, but I don't think that's a good idea." Cullen contended. "With Corypheus' next plan of action unknown to us, and the Red Templars trying to gather their strength, now isn't the time to just leave the southern continent for the Free Marches."

"Darling, I am sorry about what happening to your father, I truly am, but surely you can see that it's simply foolish to just abandon your duty while so much is at stake." Vivienne insisted. "You cannot just abandon your duty over such a sentimental whim, not matter how heartbreaking."

Solas stepped forward. "You say that, Enchanter, yet everyone here in this room has beseeched the Inquisitor to aid us in our personal matters. I don't think it is anyone's place to say that his own personal interest is of any less importance."

"Dear Solas, your loyalty is touching, but your logic is misplaced." Vivienne argued. "All of us, well, most of us at least, had something to contribute with our personal requests. I am merely trying to inform our dear leader that we simply do not have the time to be going to the other half of the South for something that will not aid him in our quest to stop Corypheus. If you truly care about our mission, or our leader, you would tell him the same."

"Then by that rationale, Vivienne, you need to step down and shut the fuck up." Rajmael hissed deeply offended. "Because Junnarel has contributed more to our mission than anyone else in the Inquisition, and everyone in this world owes him! Because Corypheus would have destroyed the world a long time ago if it weren't for him!"

"What are you talking about, Inquisitor?" Leliana asked. She, everyone in the room, needed to know what he was talking about.

There was a deep intensity in the Inquisitor's eyes as he spoke. "Junnarel was the one who rescued me from the pyre when the Chantry ordered that I be burned. He owed me and parents absolutely nothing, he could left me on that stake to die and no one would have blamed him. Instead, he risked his life and the Chantry's anger to save me. If he hadn't rescued me, I wouldn't have been able to take the Anchor from Corypheus at the Conclave, and I know for a face that you would all be dead and Corypheus would have conquered the world by now. Have you had such an impact on the world?" If Rajmael's glare became any more intense, he'd burn a hole right through Vivienne. "This is the second time I've had remind you not to speak of my people with such disrespect, Vivienne. I will not warn you a third time."

Everyone, especially Vivienne, stood silent. Most of them were actually sympathetic to Rajmael's dilemma, and none of them could argue with what he just said. After everything he had done and been through, Rajmael deserved to have closure with the man who became his father.

"When do you intend to leave, Inquisitor?" Leliana asked giving in to Rajmael's reasons.

"Right now. Keeper Deshana's message said he didn't have much time."

"I'll arrange for the fastest ship in the Val Royeaux's port to take you to Wycome." Josephine informed sincerely. 'I hope you get there in time."

"Who do you intend to take with you?" Cullen inquired.

"I'll go." Cassandra spoke eagerly. "I...wouldn't want you to go through this alone."

Rajmael looked at Cassandra with a tenderness that made her blush. "I appreciate your concern, vhenan."

"I shall go as well." Solas said. "I am curious to see the man and people that raised our Inquisitor."

"Me too." Iron Bull added. "Anyone who can raise a guy like Lavellan can give my old Tamassran a run for her money."

"I haven't been to Wycome in almost two decades. I'm eager to see how much it's changed with the elves there." Blackwall spoke.

"You helped me with the issue with my father, Inquisitor. It would be terrible manners for me not to show you the same courteously." Dorian said graciously.

"It's been a while since I've been to Wycome, and I know my friend Daisy would love to hear about a city being led by elves. That would just make her year." said Varric.

"My friend Rhys saw his mother die. It hurt him so badly inside, but it helped him. Knowing how much his mother cared made him stronger." Cole said softly. "I'd like to go, too."

"Sure, I'll go. I got nothin' better to do." Sera shrugged.

Vivienne remained silent, but everyone knew she was going to come along. It would be considered scandalous if the Inquisitor took everyone else and just left her behind.

"Then we must go now." Rajmael ordered. "My father's time is short."

**Much Later, On The Waking Sea to Wycome...**

The ship Josephine had arranged to take them to Wycome was indeed the fastest one in port. And with the Inquisitor and his entourage onboard, that motivated the crew to work extra hard to get them to their destination even faster. Rajmael wasn't so sure that was a good thing. The closer they got to Wycome, the slower he wanted to go. He was so nervous he had smoked and refilled his pipe twelve times before they even arrived.

Rajmael refill his pipe with his favorite tobacco for the twelfth time, but his hands were shaking too much. And it wasn't because the ship was rocking on the Amaranthine Sea's choppy waters, but because Rajmael was so nervous he could barely hold his hand steady.

"Rajmael, calm down." Cassandra bade standing right next to him, noticing how on edge her lover was. "You're going to see your father, not fight a high dragon. I thought you'd be excited."

"Truth be told, vhenan, I've never been so scared before." Rajmael admitted nervously. "Fighting a high dragon right now would be preferable."

Cassandra reached over and comfortingly held his hand in hers. "It will be alright." She said assured as much as possible, comforting people was not something she was ever good at, but for Rajmael she would try. She understood knew better than most why he was so nervous to reunite with his clan and kin. His greatest fear...But they had to proceed.

"Is there anything we should know of your clan before we arrive?" Solas inquired.

"Indeed. I suppose we should make sure to make a good impression. Wouldn't want to embarrass Cassandra in front of her future in-laws." Dorian chuckled mockingly.

"Dorian. Do not. Say. Another. Word." Cassandra ordered, stiff as a lead pipe and blushing a shade of crimson that could shame a tomato.

"Wycome being ruled by elves. I never thought I'd live to see the day." Blackwall said thoughtfully. "I wonder if they'll still be throwing huge parties after this."

"Indeed. This is the first time any major city has been ruled by elves since the fall of the Dales. I am curious to know what the future politics might be." Vivienne spoke.

"I cannot speak for the others on this new city council, but if Keeper Deshana is on there, then I'd say the city is in good hands." Rajmael answered honestly. "She's led three generations of my clan well and with wisdom, and she is one of the most respected Keepers of all the clans. Deshana will take it upon herself to know every concern in the city and how to address, and if she can't she will find someone who can. She will look after the city as well as she has my clan."

"What about your step-father? Is there anything we should know about him?" Varric asked.

"Yeah. Is he as much of a badass as you are?" Iron Bull asked hopefully.

"Yes, there is something you should all know about my step-father. So listen closely." Rajmael turned to look at all his companions with a deathly seriousness in his golden eyes. "Junnarel is Nethras' father."

Everyone went silent at the mere mention of Nethras Lavellan. The Dalish radicle who, after losing his beloved wife to human hatred, led a cult of elven assassins hellbent on destroying all the humans of the south with the lost secrets of two ancient elven temples. The brother Rajmael killed to save the humans who abused his people.

"Nethras' father?" Cassandra repeated with shocked disbelief.

"Why do you think Nethras always called me 'Little Brother'?" Rajmael continued with a hint of emotion in his voice. "So when we arrive do not even think of mentioning his name, and especially don't try bringing up the Chantry with my clan. The last time my clan had any interaction with the Chantry it was when the Templars attacked us and Eva became an orphan. So perhaps appreciate why I am so nervous right now. And everyone loved Nethras and Evanura. Every member of my clan, man, woman and child, takes great pride in our heritage, and this sense of pride teaches us to be strong. So free bit of advice: mind your manners and be careful about what you say about elves. Sera, I'm mostly talking to you." All eyes turned to their residential Red Jenny, fully aware of her anti-elven attitude.

"What? Don't go lookin' at me like that! I ain't gonna say anything!" Sera denied vehemently.

"I truly hope so, Sera. Because if you go running that lip off, it's not my father you need to worry about, it's my mother, Ariva who will mess your day up." Rajmael warned. "Everyone in my clan is trained for combat out of necessity, most of us have been fighting our whole lives. So if you try causing trouble, you're going to find more than you can handle."

"What...what can you tell us about your step-parents?" Cassandra asked with curiosity and her own nervousness.

Rajmael sighed deeply with an air of respect about him. "They're the ones who have been raising Eva in my stead. Ariva, my mother, is our clan healer. She taught Evanura the Vir Atish'an, the Path of Healing. She herself is a powerful mage in her own right. And trust me, if you piss her off you'll definitely need a healer, and she's amongst the best of the clans. Keeper Deshana once said Ariva was as caring and protective as a mother bear, but infinitely more fearsome'."

"And what about your step-father?" Cassandra pressed.

Rajmael leaned against the side of the boat and stared at the water. "Junnarel was our clan's best hunter, before Nethras claimed that distinction. He taught everyone in our clan how to follow the way of the Vir Tanadhal. Next to the Keeper, he commands the most respect of our clan. And he introduced me to the Dirth'ena enasalin, the Knowledge That Leads to Victory." Rajmael said nostalgically. "After I was rescued by the Dalish and wounds had finally healed, I wanted to go back to my village where parents were killed."

"Why would you want to do something like that?" Varric asked.

"Revenge." Rajmael answered coldly. "I just witnessed my parents executions and my burns still agonized my whole being! I was young, I was angry, and I wanted blood. I wanted to use my magic to kill everyone in that whole village for what they did to me!" Rajmael took a deep, calming breath. "But Junnarel stopped me from leaving, bade me not to. Said that I would dishonor my parents by foolishly running to my death. He took to me to Keeper Deshana and handed me an ancient book, an ancient training manual of the Arcane Warriors. They told me that that was what my parents died for. For me to have the chance to learn of my heritage, to pass that knowledge on to me and know what it is to be elf. Junnarel told me that vengeance never honors sacrifice, and if I just threw my life away I would shame everything my parents believed in. I could either leave like I wanted, or I could honor my parents by learning this ancient knowledge and live a better life than they did. That night I made my decision, and devoted my life to the Dirth'ena enasalin and the rediscovery of my people's lost knowledge."

"I thought you said that it was your clan's Keeper that taught you magic?" Vivienne recalled curiously.

"Keeper Deshana showed me how to walk the steps. But it was Junnarel who showed me the path, and in so doing, I mastered myself." Rajmael answered proudly.

"Well, it looks like you'll have your long overdue family reunion sooner than you think, Inquisitor." Varric pointed. "Looks like we're here."

The ship pulled into the Wycome city harbor, and everyone disembarked off it. They saddled their mounts and rode towards the city. Rajmael felt his heart pounding like a blacksmith's hammer in his chest with every step Neirin took closer to the city. Now Rajmael did wish there was a High Dragon to kill.

Wycome wasn't the oldest or largest city in the Free Marches, but it was certainly one of the most famous. Being the northernmost city-state of the Free Marches and being just south of Antiva, Wycome was the second largest exporter of Antivan wines after Orlais. An impressive feat considering that the population of the entire city was less than a third of Val Royeaux, and it brought them much wealth and trade from the North. But that was not why Wycome was so famous. Thanks to the influences of it northern neighbors in Antiva and Rivain, Wycome was the most free of all Free Marcher states, famed for it's grand festivals and extravagant parties that could put Orlais to shame. With so much revelry and celebrations all year round that could last days or even weeks, the city had gained a wide reputation for being unruly and even debauched, with many of it's neighbors looking down on Wycome's laissez-faire attitude.

But very recently, the city's history, just like the rest of the world, took a turbulent change. The former ruler of Wycome, Duke Antoine, a corrupt Venatori collaborator, sought to infect Wycome with red lyrium and use Clan Lavellan and city's elves as a scapegoat for his crimes. When it was discovered what Duke Antoine's true nature was, a joint operation with the Inquisition's agents and Rajmael's clan, led to an uprising within the city and the duke's death. This act almost led to the destruction of the city and every elf inside when the other Marcher states learned that an elven uprising led to the overthrowing of the nobility and the death of the duke and marched on the city, but thanks to Rajmael sending Inquisition forces to protect the city, he was able to deter the other cities from attacking and able to establish peace and order back to the region.

Now Wycome was famous for being the only city in all of Thedas to be led by elves. Keeper Deshana sat on the newly formed city council led by her, the hahren of the Wycome alienage and the leader of the local trader's guild who also happened to be an elf, but they would govern over all the citizens of Wycome equally and fairly. Wycome was now the only place aside from Ostagar where the Dalish had found land to settle on and live in peace. And after everything Rajmael's clan had been through, it was well deserved.

The red lyrium that had been plaguing the city had been successfully removed, but repairs were still being made thanks to the turmoil and chaos that Wycome had suffered. Thankfully, and much to Rajmael's anxiety, he wasn't here to see the city. Clan Lavellan had set up their encampment just outside the city walls. It was strange to see the land-ships and clan's banners standing so close to a human city. Everyone dismounted their rides and made their way to the camp on foot.

As they got closer to the campsite, Rajmael was surprised to see how busy it was. Dalish and City elves both interacting as friendly neighbors, and even humans were walking around as though this were just another part of the city. It was as if all racial fears and prejudices had been sponged away. And no one seemed to notice one more tattooed elf with a bunch of outsiders accompanying him. Perhaps Rajmael's presence wouldn't cause a scene after all.

Cassandra suddenly heard light footsteps running towards them, at great speed.

"Rajmael!" A familiar voice shouted happily.

Out of nowhere, Eva jumped to her beloved step-father and hugged him around the neck with happy tears on her face. Rajmael was taken completely by surprise and almost overwhelmed by emotion. He wrapped his arms around Eva and held her closely to him, trying his hardest not to shed any tears himself.

"Everyone! Rajmael is home! He's finally home!" Eva cried joyously.

Every Dalish elf in the camp stopped what they were doing and turned their attention to Eva hugging her own step-father. A wave of welcome and joy washed over all of them and they approached their prodigal son to bid him welcome. Not as the Inquisitor and not as the Herald of Andraste, but as a son and brother of Clan Lavellan returned home.

"Rajmael? Rajmael is home!"

"The Keeper will be delighted."

"Welcome home, lethallin."

"We are so proud of you, da'len."

"You've done right by our people, Rajmael."

"Surely the Creators have blessed you and all that you've done."

Their welcome was as comforting as it was sincere. Rajmael felt a sense of relieving joy well up inside and allowed himself to shed one happy tear. In all the time he had been with the Inquisition, one of Rajmael's greatest fear was that he would no longer be welcomed amongst his people again as a Dalish elf. But Clan Lavellan didn't see the Herald of Andraste or even the Inquisitor, but as a wayward son that finally returned where he belonged. And Rajmael felt his one of his greatest fears finally melt away.

"They are all alive, they are all here. And they still see and care for him like one of their own, because he_ is_ one of them." Cole whispered. "He is happy because he is home."

A pair of elves, a husband and wife, carrying a newborn baby approached their returned comrade, with bright smiles on their face. Rajmael recognized them immediately.

"Welcome home, Rajmael. The clan as missed you sorely." The husband welcomed happily.

"Your mother and father will be overjoyed." The wife added smilingly.

"Sorrin! Nehari! You two have been busy while I've been gone." Rajmael chuckled at the cooing baby in Nehari's arms.

"This is our son, Vahel. He is born just one moon ago." Nehari smiled as she gently rocked her baby in her arms.

"Has the Keeper blessed him yet?"

"We were going to have her do it this week, but now that you're here, we want you to do it." Sorrin answered.

"Me?"

"Yes." Nehari insisted with great enthusiasm. "Rajmael, our son will grow up having a real home. We can raise our son in a place where he won't have to know the same hardships or fears we did, our entire clan will. And we all owe that to you. We would be honored for you to bless our baby." Nehari gently raised her son up to Rajmael, and at the sight of the young infant smiling in his mother's hands, how could he refuse.

A smile pride brighter than any Cassandra had seen in any of their victories beamed across Rajmael's face. For him, this was a greater honor than when Empress Celene gave him thanks. Rajmael placed his hand over the infant child, who playfully grabbed his fingers. "Vahel,Dalen tir sulahn'nehn. Ar las enansal Mythal, Sylaise, Dirthamen. May your life be long, your fortunes many and your hardships few. Walk well in the paths our Creators left for us, and bring blessings to our people, as your parents have blessed you."

The infant Vahel laughed happily as though he knew the significance of what Rajmael's words meant. A smile beamed across Nehari's face and she gratefully kissed Rajmael's cheek. "Thank you so much, Rajmael."

"We'll make sure our son knows what you did for him." Sorrin promised.

"Rajmael, you have to come see the Keeper, she'll want to know you're back." Eva tugged Rajmael's sleeve excitedly. She grabbed her step-father's hand and pulled him, giving the older elf no choice but follow. The Inquisitor's company followed the two elves as Eva dragged Rajmael outside the camp to an open field just outside the city walls.

A trio of elves were standing before what looked like a recently ploughed field. Two were bare-faced city elves, one was obviously Dalish. One of the two city elves was an older man wearing a simple jerkin. Deep smile lines trenched his face and he had kindly eyes with rough hands that had seen much work. The other city elf was a younger man in his thirties at least. He wore a well made cotton shirt and vest with detailed embroidery; he seemed more like a clerk than a laborer. He had a concerned look on his slim face and, like Josephine, he held a quill and clipboard that seemed to never leave his grasp.

The final and oldest of all three was a Dalish woman who looked old enough to have been born in the last age. Unlike her compatriots who wore woven cotton and cloth, her clothing was made of leather and fur from hunted animals to weather the harsh conditions of nature. Despite her weather worn features and weary hands, she had aged well, like many elves. No major wrinkles along her face like many her age, and her frame was firm and strong not decrepit. The tattoos on her face had were no longer vibrant but still showed proudly on her feline face. In her hand she held a staff as old and gnarled as an oak tree with an amber crystal set at the top. And perched on the very end of her staff was the same white owl that had visited Skyhold just last night. The only odd thing about her was, unlike the other two, she wasn't looking at the field, but it was more like she gazing beyond it, as if it wasn't even there.

"Eva, who are those two?" Rajmael asked curiously.

"The older one is Legan, the hahren of the Wycome Alienage." Eva whispered into Rajmael's ear. "And the other one is Cylan, head of the Trader's Guild. They sit on the Wycome City Council with her."

All three of them were looking at the bare field as though they were inspecting it, but it was too late in the year to be planting crops. In a few weeks the season would turn and the seeds they had sown would be ruined. The old Dalish elf stood before the field and held her arms out to it, reciting ancient elven words that none her compatriots could understand, her eyes glowing the same way Rajmael's did. The two elves and most of Rajmael's companions watched in awed amazement as the seeds in the ground began to emerge from the ground right before their very eyes. As if the plants were obeying her unknown words, the seeds turned into saplings and then strong stalks that looked almost ready to harvest. What should have taken months happened in moments and soon the entire field was turned into a crop of golden wheat almost ready to be harvested.

The two city elves were so astonished by these incredible feat that they just stood there in awed silence with their jaws hanging open, and the clipboard falling out of the elf's hands. Then their dumbstruck silence turned into an amazed applaud. Never before had anyone here seen such a feat accomplished even with magic. Even Vivienne seemed impressed.

"Milady, this is truly a magnificent thing you've accomplished." Legan praised. "I don't where we would do without you and your clan."

"Indeed. After Duke Antoine tried to poison the city with that awful red lyrium, most of the crops and food stores we had were ruined. And with the increased numbers from the clan settling here, I was afraid there would be starvation." Cylan added smilingly. "You've just saved a lot of mouths from going hungry this winter."

"Be sure to have the farmers ready to tend to it." The old Dalish elf informed. "It's still needs a few weeks to fully ripen before, and it must be ready to be harvested before the season turns."

"Keeper, look whose here!" Eva called happily.

The old Dalish elf's ears perked and tilted her head towards Eva's voice. "But enough of that for now, my friends. It seems I have a guest."

The two city elves turned to bowed respectfully to the Dalish elder and made their leave. The Keeper leaned on her staff as she walked forward and held out her hand as though she were trying to feel some invisible object. And her face looked forward, but she wasn't even looking at Rajmael.

Deshana stopped right in front of her former first and placed her shaking hands on his face as though to feel see his face with her hands, with tears streaming her face. "Andar'an atish'an, da'lan. Welcome home."

Rajmael felt his own tears welling in his eyes at the sight of his teacher, and why she wasn't looking at him. Her once smoky green eyes that once shined with decades of care and experience were now milky pale and glazed over with emptiness staring blankly forward. She had been rendered blind. "Keeper Deshana, what...what happened to your eyes?"

"That's the first thing you notice? No 'Hello, Keeper. How have you been?'." The Keeper joked evasively. "During the fighting with Duke Antoine and his Venatori allies, I was blinded in the fighting while protecting some of our city elven kin. A pair of old eyes was a small price to pay for the safety of our clan. I have Tylluan to act as my eyes now." Tylluan fluttered his wings and shrieked twice at the Keeper from atop her staff. "And I see you have brought guests. So to speak."

Rajmael shook his head and regained his composure before turning towards his companions. "Indeed, Keeper. Everyone, this is Deshana Istimaethoriel Lavellan, Keeper of Clan Lavellan and my former teacher."

"I see living in the world of the shemlen has taught you to be cordial, da'len." The Keeper chuckled.

"Rajmael? Cordial? Are you talking about the same elf we know?" Varric asked disbelievingly.

"I'm not sure those words even belong in the same sentence." Iron Bull added.

"If he's cordial, then I'm an Antivan Crow." Dorian chuckled.

"Are we sure we've got the right elfy elves?' Sera whispered.

Solas chuckled lightly. "It would seem you're familiar with an entirely different Rajmael than the one we know."

"Keeper, I received your message. Where is Junnarel?" Rajmael asked urgently ignoring his companions' comments.

"He is being tended to by your mother, Rajmael. You should be able to see him soon." Keeper Deshana answered softly.

"Your message said he's dying. What's wrong with him?"

"It...it would be best to see for yourself, da'len." The Keeper's face and voice became morose. "I will not lie to you, Rajmael, I wish your reunion with our clan could have been under better circumstances. I felt you deserved to know what was happening. But was it wise for you to come here?"

"Junnarel brought me to the clan, Deshana. I should be here for when he makes the Journey." Rajmael determined.

"Creators know that you at least deserve that much." The Keeper agreed. "Your mother will come find us when she is done tending to him. I am about to begin the young ones' lessons, and it would please me greatly if you and your companions could join us. "

**~XoXoXo~**

Keeper Deshana and Rajmael walked the campsite with the same familiarity as a home, while everyone else tried to show respect as guests. Most of them kept quiet or let their eyes wander around the camp, as none of them, except for Varric and maybe Solas, had ever seen a Dalish camp. Solas looked upon the elves here with a dignified respect, while Vivienne looked at their host as though the Keeper were a quaint curiosity. Sera shifted and twitched uncomfortably around all this "elfy-ness". Varric was watching after Cole who curiously looked at every object the elves had around the camp. Dorian was just being Dorian. And Iron Bull was ignoring the fact that all the elves were staring at his horns, but secretly reveling in the attention he was getting.

Varric wasn't unused to being around Dalish elves. In fact, it was fair to say that he was more comfortable around them than most after spending years with Daisy and living so close to Clan Sabrae. Everyone liked to think that the Dalish elves were these wild, uninhibited savages, or that they were these romantic rebels who defying human indifference by talking to spirits and dancing naked under the moonlight. But from what Varric had seen, the Dalish were like everyone else: just people, with all the ups and downs that came with that. He definitely liked Dalish elves better than Orzammar dwarves. At least Dalish elves looked after their own, for the most part. Clan Sabrae was willing to risk the wrath of the Templars to protect Feynriel, a half-blooded apostate, yet were so deathly afraid and angry with Daisy. He didn't get it, but people are always people. Rajmael's clan seemed like the good kind of people, at least.

Iron Bull was not unused to being around elves. Most Qunari converts were originally elves, and they were often deployed as spies and intelligence gatherers. Under the Qun, they were taught that elves lived in squalor because of human ignorance and are never given the chance to contribute. What Iron Bull had seen throughout Southern Thedas only proved this belief correct. But these Dalish Elves were different. Unlike many City Elves who sat in squalor and poverty, every elf in Clan Lavellan moved with a sense of purpose. There was no idleness here. Every elf in the camp was working, everyone had a role to play, a job to do and they were doing it to the utmost of their capability whether it was crafting, repairing or training. They didn't need to be ordered or instructed, they all moved with the purpose and intention of a trained group. In this respect, it was much like a military camp that could put half the soldiers in Skyhold to shame. But everyone smiled, everyone laughed, spoke and interacted with one another as friends and family. It was almost like how he lived with the Tamassrans, yet at the same time it was not.

Blackwall's father was a carpenter. He built furniture and utilities, not fortresses or castles. It was humble work but it put bread on the table. He taught Blackwall a little bit of the trade and he would make small toys, like the little project he had back at Skyhold, to entertain his sister, but he was never truly interested in taking up the trade and was more concerned with learning how to fight than anything else. These Dalish elves put anything his father made to utter shame. Everything these elves made, their weapons, furniture, even their very tools were made of wood, and they were made with such masterful skill. Blackwall would like to see all those fancy craftsman back in Orlais try to build have as well as these people. Blackwall had to respect the Dalish. The world has almost always been against them, yet despite the odds and hardships they face everyday, they thrive. Such strength had to be admired, just like the works they make. Blackwall would dare any fancy Chevalier in Orlais to face what these people go through every day and see how far they get.

Cassandra had to admit that she felt incredibly out of place here, even though not all that long ago she was in the Free Marches during vain search for Hawke. Never before had she found herself surrounded by so many elves. It shamed her to realize how little she had ever given the elves much consideration as a whole; she was always too busy with her duties to the Chantry, and by extension, the mages, to ever consider anything else. The only time she had begun to see what the elves truly go through was when she began her relationship with Rajmael, and it was only then that she began to realize how truly blind she had been her whole life.

Unlike the elves she had encountered in the cities, who always seemed to be walking on egg shells and had an air of timidity about them brought upon by years of living under the indifference and abuse of human society, the Dalish elves walked with a sense of pride and dignity in their step, as though to declare that they didn't care what others thought of them. Even Keeper Deshana, blind as she was, walked with a grace and pride that many noblewomen lacked. Cassandra could now see where Rajmael's sense of pride came from, and she couldn't blame it. Every elf here was free, not subjugated to the cruelty that many elves in the city suffered every day at the hands of bigoted and ignorant humans. Every elf here was their own master, just as Thane Shartan had wanted, and they were ready to defend that. No wonder Nethras fought so hard to topple Orlais.

Cassandra shuddered and felt her thoughts turn inward at the mere memory of Nethras Lavellan, Rajmael's brother who so passionately and so viciously wanted to destroy the humans with the power he acquired within the ancient elven temples he discovered. These people refused to let their identity be stripped from them by anyone. And the one entity that tried to do that the most, that robbed Ramael of his childhood and his parents, and drove Nethras to become a genocidal fanatic was always the Chantry. Even now, Cassandra could feel some of these elves glaring hatefully at her and noticed mothers whispering to their children to stay away for what a servant of the Chantry might do to them. And after what Cassandra had seen and experienced with Rajmael, she couldn't blame them. After all, the Chantry had done very little to generate good will to anyone born outside human society. Perhaps with Rajmael leading the Inquisition and granting his clan a permanent place and political standing with Wycome, his people would finally get the recognition they deserve, and the Chantry could finally make amends as it is doing with the mages.

A small group of children gathered around the Keeper as though they were waiting for something from her. Cassandra saw Eva amongst them, her bright green eyes sparkling. After seeing the image of Evanura in the Fade, it was incredible how much Eva looked like her mother and was every bit as beautiful.

"Please, excuse me for a moment for a moment." The blind Keeper requested. "It's is time for the children's lessons."

Despite her handicap, Deshana walked over to each child waiting for her and placed a seed in their hands. Each sat down on the ground and eagerly awaited their teacher's lesson. Rajmael watched the familiar sight for the first time as a spectator and not a participant.

"In the time of Arlathan, we elves were immortal, and every member of our race possessed the gift of magic." Deshana started softly. "But when we lost our immortality, many of us lost the ability to use magic, making the gift infinitely more precious. We pass on the knowledge our ancestors left for us that we may one day resurrect a land of our own and teach our descendants these truths. Magic is not a weapon, a tool, or an instrument. Magic is life, and extension of ourselves, our will and intention, no different than your own hands or hearts. And just like our bodies, we must train our magic to be strong so that it will not wither. Do you understand, little ones?"

"Yes, Keeper." The children answered in unison.

"Very good. Now breath...focus your magic, your will on the seeds in your hands. Let your magic connect with the life force of nature." Deshana instructed mystically. "Your will, your magic, one with the seed."

The Inquisitor's companions watched in amazement as all five elven children held the seeds in their hands and made them blossom into magnificent blue roses, just like how Keeper Deshana made that wheat field grow. Each child held the same kind of blue rose that Rajmael always grew when he made his prayers.

Even in the Circle, Cassandra had never seen such a beautiful display of magic, and these children performed it so magnificently. Cassandra had never realized how different magic was with the elves, how they treat it as a gift, whereas as the Circle Mages always treated their magic as tool, a weapon, or burden. Cassandra could see now that this acceptance of what they are is what brought Dalish a sense peace that separated them from any other mage she had encountered. If only so many other mages could learn to feel the same and be better for it.

Dorian had never seen much elven magic before his time with the Inquisition. The mages of Tevinter either scoff at it as some weak power of a broken people worthy only of the lowest of slaves, or they simply ignore its existence. However, during a conversation he had with Solas about Tevinter magic techniques, Dorian was surprised to learn that some of the techniques he was using were actually elven in origin. He was surprised, but he shouldn't have been. Tevinter was built on what they stole from the elves when they conquered Arlathan, and then used the blood of elven slaves to build their vast empire. Far too many of his countrymen took that part of their history as badge of pride, how they destroyed the mighty elven people, reduced them to slaves and erased their history to show the whole world the might of the Imperium. But that's not what Dorian was feeling now. He looked at these people and saw how much they valued and cared for each other, how they looked after one another, and remembered how everyone in Tevinter, Altus, Soporati, Magister, even the slaves all conspired to over throw one another, even their own kin. And now Tevinter was a crumbling ruin of what it was, whereas the elves, beaten down as they are, continued to rely on each other and make themselves strong. If only Tevinter were capable of learning anything from the elves without enslaving them.

With their lesson complete, each child gave their flower to the Keeper and ran off laughing to go and play. Eva ran over to Rajmael and gave him the rose she had made to blossom.

"Look, Rajmael, I did it!" Eva giggled, more happy that her stepfather was there to witness what she'd done than actually doing it.

Rajmael held the rose in his hand gently and hugged Eva with deep affection. "Well done da'vhenan. Perhaps you're meant for the Vir Atish'an, just like your mother."

"But the Vir Atish'an is so boring! And Mama was a better swordfighter than a healer." Eva pouted. "I want to follow the Dirth'ena Enasalin!"

Rajmael cringed apprehensively. "Just don't let your grandmother hear you say that. The last thing I need is her yelling at me about why her granddaughter has bruises from training."

Cassandra smiled at the sight of Rajmael being so close to Eva. She had never seen him so happy. She looked at the Keeper, and despite being blind, noticed that she was smiling at the two younger elves as well. While Rajmael was reconnecting with his daughter, she decided to talk to the Keeper she had hear so much about. "So you're Keeper Deshana. Rajmael speaks of you often and quite fondly."

"Does he now? How very like him to not say it to my face." The Keeper laughed. "What does he say about me so fondly? I doubt I'll ever get a chance to hear it again."

"He's always talking about how well you have guided your clan for many years, and how no one else's magic can compare to yours." Cassandra answered honestly. "And after what I saw with the wheat field, I see he wasn't exaggerating."

"Indeed, but is it not dangerous for your clan to have so many mages?" Vivienne inquired. "I thought a Dalish clan could only have two or three at a time?"

"Yes, that is true. It has always been too dangerous to have too many mages at once for fear of attracting too much attention or being able to properly train so many. But now that we have land of our own, and now Templars to threaten us, we don't need to send our children away for fear of what could happen, or attracting unwanted attention." The Keeper explained.

"I gotta admit, that was pretty damned cool. Are you the one who taught him how to kick so much ass with that magic of his?" Iron Bull asked deeply intrigued.

"Junnarel showed him the way. I how him how to take the steps, but he walked the path on his own." Deshana answered elliptically. "And he has walked the path valiantly."

"Can, uh, can you repeat that pleased?" Varric asked.

"I swear, she just spoke exactly like Cole." Blackwall grumbled.

"She told the answer, you just need to know how to listen." Cole said earnestly.

"So you taught him, or he taught himself?" Dorian asked rather confused.

"Junnarel showed him the way. I how him how to take the steps, but he walked the path on his own." Deshana answered elliptically. "And he has walked the path valiantly."

"Can, uh, can you repeat that pleased?" Varric asked.

"I swear, she just spoke exactly like Cole." Blackwall grumbled.

"She told the answer, you just need to know how to listen." Cole said earnestly.

"So you taught him, or he taught himself?" Dorian asked rather confused.

Deshana couldn't help but chuckle to herself. "The knowledge my clan has protected is the wisdom to manipulate and harness magic both externally and internally, how to connect and channel our will with the world around us. For most of us, like me, for example, learn how to weave our magic with our surroundings, like how to make plants grow, or reconstruct objects. But mages like the Arcane Warriors, like Rajmael, learn how to focus their magic internally to increase their physically capabilities, become one with the Fade, and as you've no doubt seen, channel their power through their weapons. They do not use magic to bend to world to his will. He wields his magic to reinforce his physical abilities, using mana to drive him instead of stamina. It is a path where strength and wisdom come together to make his will into reality. This knowledge has been passed to us through our ancient training manuals we've saved, and the sword Rajmael wields, the Vir Enasalin."

"A truly...elvhen method of wielding magic, one worth preserving." Solas said with approval, a small smile on his face. "And certainly more impressive than just throwing a fireball."

"I must admit, your magic sounds most impressive, many Altus back home would sell their mothers for such lessons." Dorian added.

Vivienne nodded her head in agreement. "Indeed. The mages in the Circles could learn from such discipline."

"As Keeper to my clan, my duty is to pass this knowledge on to our young, as well as our history and stories in the hopes of restoring our people." Deshana continued.

"Great, yeah? Teaching creepy magic _and_ complaining about a bunch of dead elfy-elves and how unfair the world is." Sera said with disrespectful indifference.

Deshana's blind eyes turned cryptically to Sera as Tylluan with a neutral look on her face. Tylluan flew off the Keeper's staff and flew over Sera, dropping an almost impressive amount of feces right on her head.

"Ewww! Flying rodent shit-bag! Ugh!" Sera cursed violently, the white owl droppings sliding down her hair and on to her face. Vivienne, Dorian, Varric , Iron Bull and even Cole couldn't help but laugh.

"One lesson I try to teach the young and ignorant, young lady: Never speak insults while you're someone else's guest. A lesson Rajmael didn't learn very well, either." Deshana chastised while Tylluan flew back on the end of her staff.

"Stupid, elfy, shitfaced, whining, shoeless, bird-loving, smells-like-halla-shit prigs! Go take your elven glory and stick it in your taint with some arrows, you elf-shitters..." Sera swore under her breath as she strutted off angrily, trying to get the bird crap out her hair and off her face. She was so distracted by the bird-shit and her own anger, that she didn't even see the angry fist flying right at her face.

The fist connected to Sera's face with a loud crack right in her jaw, with enough force and speed to make Iron Bull cringe, and Sera went down like a sack full of anvils right into the dirt. Judging from the impact of the hit, Varric guessed Sera probably had a concussion the size of an apple now. Everyone turned their eyes to the Dalish woman standing over Sera's unconscious body with a balled fist and a really pissed off look on her face.

"There's also a Fereldan saying I'm quite fond off: 'Talk shit, get hit', you flat-eared bitch." Seethed the older elven woman. She looked at the group of strangers standing with the Keeper with a look of surprise and outrage. Most of them, with the exception of the knocked out Sera, couldn't shake the feeling that there was something oddly familiar about this woman. Not just her apparent anger, it was like they had seen her bluish-black hair and piercing blue eyes before somewhere, and it made them feel threatened.

"Keeper, who are these strangers that you would so carelessly explain our clans knowledge and treasures to?" Sera's assailant demanded.

"These are our guests, and I'm sure they have honest faces." The Keeper answered innocently. "Don't they? I'm blind now, remember? So I can't really tell."

The other elven woman looked at these supposed guests with the shock and disbelief meant for visiting a freakshow. "Truly, blindness has robbed you of more than just your sight. Who could be here that you would entertain shems who bring along such a disrespectful and idiotic City Elf?"

Deshana tilted her head curiously. "Oh? I'm sorry, I suppose you haven't heard yet, have you?"

"Heard what...?" The woman's face went from outraged to shock, like she had seen a ghost as Rajmael walked back over to them holding Eva's hand. A stunned look came over the Inquisitor as he saw her, as well. "Rajmael? Is it truly you?" Ariva's hands gently caressed Rajmael's face as though to confirm that the man was truly standing before her not a conjuration of her own maternal heartache. Upon realizing that this was truly Rajmael in the flesh, Ariva hugged herself to the Inquisitor, quiet sobs racking her body. "It _is_ you. My second son has come has come home at last..."

Rajmael and Eva hugged their only maternal figure close in an attempt to comfort her, knowing the pain she was going through right now.

"Everyone, this is my mother and our clan's healer, Ariva." Rajmael finally introduced. "I can see Sera has already met her, judging from the fact that she's taking a nap in the dirt with a fist-shaped bruise on her face and bird shit in her hair."

Now everyone realized why they felt so uneasy with this woman. Her piercing blue eyes and bluish-black tied into a tight ponytail, and that streak of viciousness that went a mile long. She was Nethras' mother. Suddenly, a lot of things about Rajmael were beginning to make sense to them.

Ariva wiped the tears from her eyes and tried to maintain her composure. She hated showing any kind of weakness in front of anyone, especially her own children. "Rajmael, what...what are you doing here? I thought you were...?"

"Keeper Deshana sent me a message about what was happening. I had to come back here." Rajmael answered. "What's wrong with Junnarel? Can you...?"

Ariva shook her head tearfully. "No. I am afraid that what he's suffering from is beyond my skill to heal. It may take a few more days or few more hours, but it will be soon. I can't...all I can do is make him comfortable." The elven healer fought the tears in her eyes as best as she could. "Rajmael...it will bring my husband immeasurable joy to see you before Falon'din calls him for the Journey."

Rajmael swallowed the burning lump of guilt in his throat. "Ariva, I...I don't know if my being here will bring any peace. The things I've seen, what I've done. I fear that it will only bring more pain, pain neither of you deserve."

Ariva cusped her hand to Rajmael's face once more and made him look her in the eye. "Rajmael, you are just as much our son as Nethras was. There is nothing you could say that will ever change that. And Junnarel would relieve of your burden in his final hours if it would bring peace to the rest of your life. Now go. See your father, and make your peace."

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael did as his adopted mother bade and made his way to the lead hunter's tent. It was always easy to find because of the wooden carving of Andruil over the entry way situated above a bleached white skull of a bull wyvern that Junnarel killed in his youth. Nostalgia poured over Rajmael like rain when he realized how long it felt like since he had seen this home of his childhood and adolescent years. All the memories in this tent he shared with his adopted family, all the time, laughs and tears he had with Nethras and Evanura, the lessons his parents taught him. It was almost overwhelming to back under such circumstances.

After taking a moment to work up his courage, Rajmael finally stepped inside the home of his younger years where he was raised. It was just as he remembered it, as it had always been. The pelts, the trinkets hanging from the roof, even the smells of incense and smoke that filled the air. And laying on a bed of furs and straw was the man Rajmael had come all the way from the Frostback Mountains to see. The Inquisitor walked quietly over to him.

"Junnarel? Junnarel, I...oh, no. No..." Rajmael's feelings of nostalgia were quickly slain by grief and dread as he looked upon the once mighty hunter resting in front of him. Now he knew why the Keeper refused to tell him what had stricken Junnarel, why a healer as skilled as Ariva couldn't save. Junnarel had been poisoned by the accursed red lyrium.

**~XoXoXo~**

As soon as Rajmael had left to go see her husband, Ariva turned a criticizing eye to her son's companions, especially Cassandra. It was the same look Nethras gave her when he discovered the relationship between her and Rajmael.

"You, Chantry shem, come closer." Ariva demanded.

"Why?" Cassandra asked defiantly.

"I wish to know the character of the woman my foolish second son has carelessly gave his heart to." The intensity of Ariva's voice was enough to shame any military officer's. "I want to know why he would choose a Chantry servant whose sworn duty is to keep mages on their knees, no different than the Templars who stole my son Nethras and his wife Evanura from my granddaughter."

"How...how do you know about us?" Casssandra asked taken aback.

"Call it the intuition of a woman whose been married for thirty-two years." Ariva answered harshly. "And besides, my granddaughter likes to talk. A lot."

Eva inched herself behind the Keeper with a guilty blush on her face, looking at Cassandra apologetically. "Sorry, Cassandra."

"Eva, perhaps you should leave while your elders speak." Deshana suggested. Eva obeyed and left to go play with the other children.

"And just who are you to make demands of anyone, let alone an esteemed Seeker and ranking member of the Inquisition?" Vivienne scoffed.

A bolt of lightning flew from Ariva's fingertips, revealing her to be a mage, and almost nailed Vivienne right in the face. "I wasn't talking to you. Say another word to me, and I'll put you in the dirt right next to flat-ear and get one of our halla to shit in your mouth." Everyone took two steps away from Vivienne, not wanting to get in Ariva's way.

"You'll have to forgive Ariva's temper. She's sort of the mother bear of our clan, fearsome and a touch overprotective." Keeper Deshana explained sympathetically. "And given what has happened to her family, I must ask for your understanding and patience."

"Now, Seeker, come closer." Ariva demanded once more turning her attention back to the Seeker.

Cassandra sighed in defeat. She knew for a fact that if anyone from the Pentaghast Family knew that she, one of their most prominent members, was romantically involved with a Dalish elf, they would probably have an aneurism. So she wasn't surprised that Rajmael's stepmother wasn't happy to know her son was courting a Chantry Seeker, and considering what the Chantry had done to Rajmael and his family, Cassandra couldn't blame Ariva. The difference was Cassandra didn't really care for the opulent self-indulgence and indolence of her oversized and extended family, whereas Rajmael deeply cared about his family and clan. So for his sake, Cassandra would indulge Ariva.

Cassandra stood before Ariva. She stared at the ground to avoid the elf's piercing eyes.

"Look me in the eyes, young lady." Ariva demanded, Cassandra obliged. The elven healer's piercing blue eyes scanned and studied Cassandra's face. The intensity of her gaze felt like she was looking straight into Cassandra's being. Her eyes stopped and looked right into Cassandra's with a deathly serious in them. "Now, tell me honestly, because I'll know if you're lying to me: why would you, a servant of the Chantry, even think to love a Dalish elf, and a mage to boot, who has every right to hate your beloved Chantry for all the crimes its committed? Is this some tactic to lure him from his heathen ways? Or do you think that by bedding the so-called 'Herald of Andraste' that you somehow bring yourself closer to the god that abandoned you?"

"No. That isn't it at all." Cassandra denied passionately.

"Then why? What makes him so special that a human royal with her pick of all the most powerful rich humans that take up too much space as it is, would choose a penniless heathen knife-ear from the woods when the only thing elves have ever had is suffering and pain?!" Ariva pressed vehemently.

There was an intensity in the air around the Seeker of Truth and the Dalish Healer, and the others were worried that there might be a fatality between the two any second. Judging from Cassandra's balled fist and Ariva's demanding attitude, this might come to a head.

Cassandra could feel her anger starting to rise. Ever since she became a Seeker, no one, not even the Divine, made such demands of her without not being introduced to her own temper. But she relented. She would not let her temper rule her, nor would she show weakness to Rajmael's mother. "Because...he is the best man I have ever met. In all my time serving the Chantry, and all the noble suitors my uncle threw at me, I have never met a man like Rajmael. He is wise and passionate, with a sense of honor and piety that could shame most knights and priests I have met. And I never thought it possible, but he makes me laugh. Makes me joy I never knew existed. I love him because...he's the best man."

Ariva never took her eyes off Cassandra. But intensity and criticism that burned there melted away, and filled with comforting welcome. "He _is_ the best of men, like his father taught him to be. Ever since Evanura died, I didn't think he would a woman in all the world for him to love the way he did her. I am pleased I was wrong." Ariva lowered her head apologetically to Cassandra. "Please, forgive my anger and harsh words, but Rajmael is the only son I have left and I needed to be sure what he feels is real."

"No apologies are necessary, milady." Cassandra said understandingly. "I too know what it means to lose family. I understand."

"Please, I would be honored if you could meet my husband. It would bring him so much happiness to meet the woman our son loves before he dies." Ariva pleaded.

"I...I would be honored to do, milady." Cassandra smiled.

"Please, call me Ariva."

**~XoXoXo~**

Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief when Ariva and Cassandra both walked away. Having Cassandra around was tough enough, but with Ariva, they all felt like they were walking in the presence of an angry Great Bear. For a moment, they thought someone was going to die. But somehow, Ariva's attitude shouldn't have been surprising.

"Yeah, a lot of things about the Inquisitor are starting to make sense." Varric reaffirmed.

"To actually stare down Cassandra Pentaghast and make a demand of her. I don't know if I should be impressed or scared." Blackwall commented.

"I don't think I've ever seen a woman that scary outside the Tammassrans." Iron Bull added.

"The obvious use of magic, the violent hostilities to guests her son brings home. Get her drunk on Minrathous port, and she'd be an elven replica of my mother." Dorian chuckled. "Except, _my_ mother _never_ took the time to hug me."

"She hurts. Thirty-two years of companionship and care, losing a son and her daughter-in-law. Now she's losing the one man who accepted her and all her faults." Cole informed insightfully. "But she is happy to know the boy she healed and took in as a son is still alive, and has found someone to love him. She is proud of the Inquisitor."

"Ughhh. Did anyone see the battering ram that hit me?" Sera groaned. She staggered to her feet, barely able to stand and probably seeing double after what that hit she took.

"I'm afraid you said the wrong thing with the wrong woman in ear shot, young lady." The Keeper answered chidingly. "And in so doing, you got knocked on your ass."

"Phbbt! No wonder no one likes you elfy elves." Sera blew off. "Bunch'a tits!"

"And now I know why both the Dalish and the shemlen think City Elves are stupid, ignorant, and vulgar. Thank you for proving us right." Deshana chastised.

"Oh, she does make a good point there, Sera, darling. You do set an awful example to others." Vivienne condescended.

"But don't worry, we already knew Orlesians are conceited snobs, too." Deshana said distastefully before turning her attention back to Sera. "Young lady, you cannot just go into to another's home and make insults at their kin, clan and culture, no matter where you go. Because no matter where you go, there's always someone who will take exception, and sometimes they'll take more than you can give."

"Tch. Whatever." Sera scoffed.

"Now, as for the rest of you please, come here. Eva told me all about you when she came back. Let me guess at who you are."

Iron Bull:

Deshana instinctively wrinkled her nose to the Qunari in front of her. "Judging from the smell of liquor, body odor, and uninhibited sex, you must be Iron Bull."

"Hey, that's kind of hurtful, you know?" Iron Bull said with faux offense.

"Being hurtful doesn't make it any less true, so maybe take a bath more often. Your enemies should see you coming because of your horns, not your stench." Deshana reached into her robes and held out a fistful of herbs. "Here, bathe with these, and I promise you'll smell like a new oxman, without the ox smell."

Iron Bull sniffed the dried herbs. "Ooh! These smell refreshing."

Dorian:

"Hmm. A vibrant red aura, mixed with shade of necromancy. You must be that Tevinter Eva told me about." Deshana said almost glumly. "Never thought I'd extend a welcome to a Magister."

"Well, if it makes it any better, I am not a magister. I just happen to be a mage from Tevinter." Dorian explained.

The Keeper chuckled jokingly. "Is that so? Well, all you shems look the same to me nowadays."

"Oh, trust me, madam, if your eyes were functioning, you wouldn't believe them if you saw me." Dorian played along. "You wouldn't find a set of teeth of cheekbones like mine in all of Thedas."

"I doubt it. I probably wouldn't be able to see through your ego." The elven mage finished.

Vivienne:

"Ah. The smell of perfume, vanity and deception. You must be that Orlesian Circle mage Eva spoke of so fondly." Deshana remembered sarcastically. "How's your nose?"

"Quite well, thank you." Vivienne spoke with her dispassionate sincerity. "And it is properly, Madam Vivienne, Official..."

"I really don't actually care!" Deshana interrupted. "Your title impresses me less than what passes for magic."

"I assure you, Circle magic is quite formidable and highly civilized. And learning in a Circle Tower is certainly more impressive than practicing in the woods." Vivienne countered.

"Practicing in the woods like an apostate, you mean." Deshana surmised. "You think with your soft hands and scented skin that you know what true magic is? And in your arrogance, you actually believe that you do. But elvhen magic, Rajmael's magic, far outstrips yours or anything in the Circle. But you know this already, don't you? Your just won't admit it."

Cole:

Deshana furrowed her brow in confusion. "What is this? I feel the aura that could only belong to a spirit, but you walk and appear human?"

"I _am_ human, but I used to be different. A spirit who saw more, and wanted to be more." Cole answered.

"A spirit so complete with it's nature, so willing to give this world, even undeserving as it is, you made yourself mortal to help." Deshana marveled. "Even blinded as I am, I never thought I'd see such a thing."

Blackwall:

"You walk the weary but disciplined footsteps of a man trained for war, but there is pain in your steps. A burden you have carried, but have learned to let go. That is why you fight with renewed vigor." Deshana sensed about Blackwall.

"How do you...I guess I shouldn't be surprised by mages anymore." Blackwall sighed. "Yes. What you say is true. And to tell the truth, it was the Inquisitor who helped me lay my burden down. Gave me a second chance when I didn't deserve it."

"A second chance is something many want but never receive. Do not squander it should you live past your sword duty."

"Don't worry about that. Rajmael gave me my life back when I surrendered it, and I intend to make sure I do something good with it." Blackwall promised.

Varric:

"So you're the famous Keeper Deshana the Inquisitor is always talking about. Nice to finally meet you." Varric chuckled.

"And you must be the famous Varric Tethras Rajmael used to always never shut up about. Good to meet you." Deshana returned. "Eva talked up a storm about you when she returned to the clan."

"I gotta admit, your clan is a lot different than the last one I saw in Kirkwall, clan Sabrae." Varric stated. He remembered vividly what Merrill's clan was like.

"Ah, yes. Keeper Marethari's clan. They are good people, but sadly very credulous." Deshana sighed. "Marethari should have let her First walk her own path and looked after the rest of her clan, for good or ill. That is the point of growing up."

"I guess you'd know a lot about that." Varric guessed.

"I've watched over four generations of this clan, Master Tethras. I've seen good decisions with terrible outcomes and great things born out of hardship. Yes. It is something I am familiar with."

"Hey, I'm thinking about using Wycome in my next book. You mind if I base one of my character off of you?" Varric asked.

"Oh, of course you can. What better way for the elves here to finally get some good publicity.

Solas:

"Ah. I another one of the People travels with my former First." Deshana welcomed. "You are Solas, I take it?"

"I am, hahren, though I am not Dalish. I am merely an apostate that happens to be Somniari." Solas humbly clarified.

"You're name means Pride, yet you are not proud of being blessed such a powerful gift?"

"I have yet to accomplish anything worthy of being proud of." Solas admitted.

"Truly? Tell me then, since you've probably seen so much in the Fade, what do you think of Rajmael? As a lead and a mage?"

"As one who follows the Dirth'ena enasalin, from what I have seen in the Fade, he does their memory great honor. And as for his leadership...there have been very few people in all of history that have done as well as he did. The wisdom and strength by which he leads does credit to all elves." Solas confessed honestly. "And he takes great pride in being an elf."

"That is wonderful to hear. Our clan is very proud of him. I am glad to know one of the People walks with Rajmael, even if you do not consider yourself to be one."

**~XoXoXo~**

"Am I dreaming in the Fade? Rajmael? Mythal'enaste, is that you?" Junnarel happily asked, his voice distorted and weak from the red lyrium poisoning.

"Yes. Yes, it's me, Junnarel."

Despair and anguish filled Rajmael as he looked down at Junnarel, barely able to recognize him. Rajmael remembered a mighty hunter whose very presence commanded respect, and always stood tall amongst his fellow elves, but was always kind and wise. He wore the vallaslin that gave honor to Mythal the Great Protector, as he gave protection to his clan. The man who guided him to the path of the Dirth'ena Enasalin and raised him like a son alongside Nethras and taught them the ways of honor and combat. And Rajmael was always surprised about how much Nethras looked almost exactly like his father, save for his mother's hair and eyes.

But this was not the same Junnarel he remembered. This was not the same man that pulled Rajmael out of the flames all those years ago. He was a withered husk of a man being drained of life with that sickly red glow emanating from him thanks to the poisoning of the red lyrium.

"I don't mean to sound ungrateful, da'len, but what are you doing this far north? Isn't there a world that needs saving?" Junnarel chuckled in spite of the pain he was in.

"Keeper Deshana sent me a message telling me you were ill. I had to come back here." Rajmael explained.

"You should have stayed in the South where you can do the most good. As an Arcane Warrior, you should know better than to let personal feelings derail you from duty." The old hunter chided gently. "But, as the man who took the place of being your father, I am pleased to see you again once more before I make the Journey to the Beyond."

"Junnarel, what...what happened? You are one of the best hunters of all the Dalish clans. Why are you dying of this?" Rajmael begged disbelievingly.

"We elves haven't been immortal for thousands of years, my son. And even the best hunters grow old." Junnarel spoke gently. "When it was discovered that Duke Antoine supported the Venatori, I lead the hunters to sneak into the city to kill him and his cohorts before he could corrupt anymore of the city with his red lyrium and blame the elves. I chased him down to were he was growing the stuff and killed him there. But I must be getting old, I didn't count the right number of guards he had with him, and in the fight I was infected with the red lyrium. I must be old."

"I...I should have been there. I could have helped. Maybe if I was protecting the clan like you and Deshana taught me to, then maybe this wouldn't have happened to you." Rajmael said with guilt.

"Or maybe if you had been here instead of the South, you wouldn't have healed the wound in the sky and the world would be destroyed. I doubt that would have benefitted anyone, especially our clan." Junnarel reasoned kindly. A weak laugh came from his lips as the thought of memory. "Oh, let me tell you boy, when some of our clan-mates heard the humans were calling you 'The Herald of Andraste' they started talking nonsense about how you abandoned our people. Deshana and I told them you'd never do such a thing. Some of them didn't listen, and ended up being patched up by Ariva right after she got done beating the snot out of them."

Rajmael couldn't help but laugh with his father, knowing that sounded exactly what Ariva would do. "Trust me, I wasn't too keen on the epithet, either. You wouldn't believe the looks on those shems' faces when they walk up to me only to find that the Herald of Andraste is a heathen elf from the woods. It was funny at first, but it just get so annoying after a while. Not to mention the Chantry..." A look of seriousness replaced the humor Rajmael felt. There was something he always wanted to ask his stepfather. "Junnarel, there's something I've always wanted to ask you. Amongst our people, we always talk how villainous the Chantry is, what and what I've seen in my travels has only proven us right. I still bare the scars of what it did to me, the Chantry stole Nethras and Evanura from us, left Eva an orphan. How can you not _hate_ them?"

Junnarel sighed deeply and thoughtfully. He knew full well the pain of loss that Rajmael and every elf in the world knew. "I would be lying if I said that I'm not angry for what the humans did to our people and our family. But to live by hate alone is a sad and abhorrent thing that only leads to more pain. Avarice and aggression is a part of human nature. And it is in our nature to endure. The elves may no longer be immortal, but our spirit lives on in our actions and the people we leave behind, da'len. We do not honor our ancestors or our gods by being hateful. Bringing the elves down to the same level as human bigotry and cruelty would only lesson the soul of our people. I taught you and your big brother to be better than that."

Junnarel weakly motioned for Rajmael to hand him his sword. Rajmael did as he was bade, and his father held the Vir Enasalin as though it was as familiar to him as his own hands. "I taught you to wield this sword to uphold our people's honor, just as our ancestors did. The Vir Enasalin isn't just a fancy title to label this sword, but a reminder that victory without honor is meaningless. And to lower ourselves to such a shameful level would disgrace us worse than the humans ever could."

Junnarel's words only made the weight of Rajmael's burden that much heavier. "Junnarel, there's something I..."

Sunlight showed into the tent as someone walked inside. Rajmael was shocked to see it was Ariva bringing Cassandra in with a smile on her face.

"Ah, ma vhenan." Junnarel exclaimed happily. "Who is this you bring into our home?"

ariva smiled to her husband. "Vhenan, this is Cassandra. She is the woman Eva spoke of so fondly. The one Rajmael gave his heart to."

"Is she now? She's lovely! Bringing a woman home to meet your parents Rajmael? Are you planning to settle down so quickly?" Junnarel laughed.

"Please, ser. Stop. You are making me blush." Cassandra had that awkward smile on her face when she was being bashful.

"Please, come in and be welcome." Junnarel invited gregariously. "To find a woman to give his heart to even in the midst of all this chaos. My son must truly be blessed."

"I...truly hope so, ser." Cassandra blushed.

Junnarel coughed painfully and uncontrollably thanks to the red lyrium. Ariva quickly went to her husbands side and administered more medicine and water.

Remembering what he had come here for, and that Junnarel's time was short, Rajmael knew what he needed to do though he was scared to. "Junnarel, Ariva. There...there is something I must tell you. I am afraid to, but you deserve to hear it."

Both parents looked at their adopted son calmly and with care.

"Da'len, I told you that whatever you have to say, Junnarel will hear it to lessen your burden." Ariva reminded.

"Rajmael, you know you can tell us anything." Junnarel assured.

Rajmael swallowed the burning lump in his throat, and a well of guilt sprang up inside him. "I...I killed Nethras!" He finally confessed with a burning tear rolling down his cheek.

Ariva and Junnarel both sat there stunned, staring at Rajmael with shock. "W-what?"

"What are you saying, Rajmael?"

"The Templars never killed Nethras, they merely captured him. The body we found was an apostate they killed. Nethras escaped and committed to the Vir Banal'ras." Rajmael pulled out Nethras' war sickle, the bora'nan, and handed it to Junnarel. "He established a cult following of angry and wronged elves to follow his path in the name of Elgar'nan, and found the lost temple of Nehn'numinas, where all the waters of the world converge. He planned to poison the waters and start a war that would destroy the South with civil turmoil so that he and his followers could reclaim the Dales for our people. His path conflicted with mine, and so we dueled in the sight of the Creators, and in so doing I killed my brother, your son, to save the humans who oppress and abuse our people and denied the elves the chance to reclaim our kingdom."

"Oh. Oh, Nethras..." Ariva sobbed. She buried her face into her hands and wept for her son.

Junnarel stared down at the chained-sickle in his hands, tracing his finger where his son would have held it. "My son...Vir Banal'ras? This sickle was used by my father when he walked that path while I was still young. It got him, my mother and several others of our clan killed, including Deshana's brother. And what did he accomplish? Just a few more dead shems, and even more dead elves that left a hole in our clan's heart. It was why I never looked to vengeance, and it is not a path I wanted either of you to follow." Junnarel lamented bitterly. "But I cannot imagine the pain and rage he must have felt to commit to that path. Without justice, all we are left with is vengeance, and vengeance only leaves us with nothing."

"I...I know what I did cannot be forgiven. I am so sorry. To both of you." Rajmael spoke with anguish.

"If you're so sorry. Then why did you even fight Nethras to begin with?" Ariva sniffled.

"Because he didn't want to rebuild, he wanted to kill. Because, if I didn't, it would have undid everything I am trying to do to save this world. And killing so many in such a manner would have disgraced our people." Rajmael answered honestly.

"You say that his path conflicted with yours? That you fought in the sight of the Creators, and your conviction was stronger?" Junnarel inquired.

"Yes."

"I wish with all my heart that Nethras would have just come home, and he could be here now with his daughter, and this home you've granted us. But such is the way of the Vir Banal'ras. A destructive path created by a treacherous world." Junnarel wept for his son. "But you gave him the chance to redeem his disgrace by fighting in an honorable dual. And I know Nethras, misguided though it was, walked his path well and with pride."

"He did. You would have been proud to have seen him so strong, and the knowledge he recovered." Rajmael confirmed.

"Then there is nothing to forgive." Ariva assured, gently grasping her stepson's hands. "You followed your path with honor, just as he did. You both did right in you own way. We didn't want a kingdom. We wanted our son. Eva wanted her father."

"And Nethras wanted her to be free. To live as an elf without fear of persecution and hate. To never suffer as we have suffered." Rajmael remembered well his brothers justifications. "What father wouldn't want to give his daughter the world? You would have been so proud of him."

"We were always proud of our Nethras. Just as we are proud of you." Junnarel smiled.

Rajmael felt the weight of mountains being lifted off his shoulders. He was so afraid to tell them the truth, but they knew the paths they take determined the lives that would be lived. Rajmael and Nethras chose opposing roads, and they walked them well. Nethras merely chose a path of violence, and thus it ended violently.

Junnarel began coughing and hacking violently again. This time he was spitting up blood, and there was nothing Ariva could do. When his coughing subsided, he laid very still. His time was running short. Rajmael rushed to his side.

"Junnarel? Please! Please, let me take you to Skyhold. I have some of the best healers in Thedas, and my Arcanist knows more about red lyrium than anyone. Let me save you." Rajmael pleaded desperately.

"Nay. My time has come, and I am at peace with that." Junnarel whispered softly, placing his hand on Rajmael's face and looking at him one last time. "I lived a free man, and have loved and been loved by many. I had the honor and joy to watch three of the most wonderful children grow up under my roof married to the only woman good enough to have me. And I lived long enough to see my clan's dream of finding a home finally come true. I am proud of the man you became, proud of everything you have done for our people. I die...a happy man...my son." Junnarel gently laid back and went to sleep.

"Junnarel? Father? Father!" Rajmael cried in the vain hope his father could hear him.

"Dareth shiral, ma vhenan." Ariva held her husband's hand in hers, her tears falling on his face. Her soul-mate finally gone, she wept with her son.

Cassandra silently walked over to Rajmael and held him closely to her as he cried gently. Tears of her own were falling as she felt Rajmael's loss. She never knew her father, but she would like to think that he was anything like Junnarel. A true father.

**~XoXoXo~**

A crimson sun began to set down over many hundreds of torches that stood outside the city. A cold autumn wind blew in from the Amaranthine ocean whipped at the many who stood outside the city walls, hissing in their ears and bit into their skin. It did nothing to outstrip the pain of loss they all felt. Never before had Rajmael seen so many gather to mourn thee death of an elf. Not just his own clan, but the city elves, and even the humans of Wycome had gathered to pay their respects to Junnarel's passing.

Rajmael stood at the head of his gathering alongside his companions and his mother and daughter. Ariva held her weeping granddaughter in her arms, her own tears gently flowing down her face. Rajmael did his best to keep a strong face in front of his company and clan. As Junnarel's son, an Arcane Warrior and the Inquisitor, he could not let himself be seen as a wailing woman at his father's funeral.

Iron Bull and Blackwall both stood in respectful silence. As soldiers, they understood the importance and sanctity of mourning the loss of a comrade. And the man who raised the Inquisitor, who lived his whole life for his people, was a man most worthy of respect. And as soldiers, they would show him this respect.

Dorian could not imagine what the Inquisitor must be feeling right now. His relationship with his own father had been strained ever since his father betrayed his trust, and he didn't know how he would feel if his father died so suddenly. But seeing Rajmael's face and how he and his mother shared in this loss made Dorian wish he was closer to his own parents.

The hardest thing for Varric having friends was having to share in their loss. He remembered the look on Hawke's face at Leandra's funeral. The pained look he had on his face at the sight of what the bastard Quentin did to her. Rajmael had that same look right now, trying to cover up that cauldron of loss, anger and pain inside with a strong face. You didn't need to be a hero to love your parents, but Andraste's ass, did heroes feel the most loss.

Pain, sorrow, loss, anger and tears. Cole could feel that everyone here was an ocean of al the same feelings. Junnarel was such an important person to all these people that they felt the same thing together. Cole wished he still had the power to take all this hurt away. But it was important. They would all remember Junnarel, even if it was painful. But the pain would go away someday, and they would always remember the man who helped them.

Sera stood in the background, knowing full well no one here would probably want to see her, especially Ariva. She thought the elfy elves and they stupid elfy ways was still stupid and pointless. But you didn't need to be an elf to feel bad when you lose someone. And that Junnarel guy was a big someone to all these people. Being quiet was probably the best thing right now.

Vivienne was standing the furthest from the Inquisitor and his mother. She doubted her presence near either of them would be welcome. She had to admit, though, for everyone in the city of Wycome to come out in this cold to pay respect to this one elf was impressive. Vivienne would be a fool to not show a modicum of respect herself. After all, the Inquisitor claimed his formidability to the man who raised him. And that was an accomplishment onto itself.

Solas remained quiet, watching as these elves mourn their loss together. Once again, he had been proven wrong about the Dalish, his assertions about them bringing him shame. Not all that long ago, he believed so firmly that the Dalish were foolish, naïve children, who knew less than nothing about what they preached. But he was wrong. They valued one another, saw each brother and sister as precious, and the respect they had for the memories of the ancient ways. And Junnarel had such profound effect on so many. Now Solas knew why Rajmael was the man that he was. His people taught him to be that way.

Cassandra had heard how the Dalish plant a tree over their dead instead of cremating them, and she thought it was a beautiful sentiment. Life growing from death, something to remember their loved ones. Cassandra held Rajmael's hand in hers, knowing how much he, and sweet little Eva must be hurting inside. She was glad to be here with him, to share in his loss just as much as his victories. Now she truly beyond a reason of a doubt why Rajmael didn't want to join the Inquisition. So that Eva would not have to feel anymore of this loss and pain than already has. Rajmael wanted to be a father to her as Junnarel was to him. And Cassandra wished with all her heart that she had grown up with a father like that.

Deshana finished planting Junnarel's Vhenadahl Tree over his body with the aid of her magic and Tylluan. She stood tall and strong before the procession, just as he old friend would have, and spoke in that clear and strong voice of hers. "Thank you all for coming. It does Junnarel proud to see so many come to pay him respect. I have watched four generation of Clan Lavellan walk and grow. And in all those years, I can say without boasting, that Junnarel was amongst the best of them. He was more than just a great hunter, but great father, husband and teacher. Which is why I feel more pride than sorrow, to see how Junnarel's life had effected so many. Now the Creators have called him to our ancestors in the beyond, but we plant this vhenadal tree over him that we might forever remember and honor what he taught us and who he left behind." Deshana turned her blind eyes to Rajmael and beckoned him forward. "I would now like to call Junnarel's younger son, Rajmael. Many of you know him as the Inquisitor, but before that he was, and still is, a son of Clan Lavellan. And Junnarel would want him to say the words."

Rajmael walked out and stood before the gathering of so many. He remembered the words so well. It was something he had trained for his whole life, but not ones he was happy to say. "Hahren'en melana sahlin. Emma ir abelas. Souver'inan isala hamin. Vhenan him dor'felas. In uthenera na revas. Vir sulahn'nehn. Vir dirthera. Vir samahl la numin. Vir lath sa'vunin. Elder your time is come. Now I am filled with sorrow. Weary eyes need resting. Heart has become grey and slow. In waking sleep is freedom. We sing, rejoice. We tell the tales. We laugh and cry. We love one more day. Dareth shiral."

"Dareth Shiral." The entire city echoed.

"Goodbye...Father." Rajmael approached his comrades, no longer letting himself being held by pain and sorrow. "Thank you all for coming, and letting me say my farewells. It means more than I can say. Now we must return to Skyhold. Our duty is not yet done."

"No!" Eva cried. She ran to Rajmael and hugged his waist with painful tears streaking her face. "Rajmael, please. Please don't go! This is your home. You belong with us, you belong with me! I don't to lose you, too."

Rajmael held Eva to him closely. It broke his heart to see her cry, and knew how much pain she was in. Eva had already lost her mother and father, and now her grandfather. Now the only father-figure she had left, and loved so dearly was leaving as soon as he came back. "I wish I could, Eva. I wish it with all my heart. But I must go. I have sworn to carry out a duty, and I must complete it to keep you safe, to keep this world safe. Be strong, da'vhenan, just as your father and grandfather was."

"Please. Please, come home." Eva begged.

"That is why I must fight. So that I can come home." Rajmael looked into Eva's big green eyes one more time. "And when I come back, I will do my best to be as good a father as Nethras and Junnarel was."

Cassandra felt her heart aching again for Rajmael. These were his people, and this was his home. This was everything he ever cared about, and she couldn't help but feel guilty for taking him from it when she declared the Inquisition reborn. Cassandra felt someone tap on her shoulder and turned to find Ariva, looking at her pleadingly.

"Please. Keep my son alive, and bring him back safely. He is all Eva has left in this world." Ariva beseeched gently.

"I...I will do everything I can, Ariva." Cassandra promised.

Ariva's hand gently held Cassandra's face, and looked at her with motherly softness. "Now I see why he loves you. You have so much of Evanura's spirit in you. A truly wonderful thing."

Solas watched the others from a short distance away, ready to leave this behind him. How he wished to not be so familiar with tragedy. He felt a presence standing behind him. "Is there something else you wish to speak of, Keeper?"

"There are many who think of blindness as a handicap, but the body makes up for what it loses with what it has left, especially magic. I now see the world with more clarity and distinction than most people dream of. It grants me an insight into the truth of people's character." The Keeper told with an iron sternness in her voice. "Which is how I know that you lied to me, and have lied to Rajmael."

"Excuse me?" Solas asked indignantly. It was a good thing they were out of earshot of the others.

"No, I will not excuse you." Deshana's face became hard and unforgiving. "The Fade doesn't linger on you, it practically radiates _from_ you. There is something beyond ancient lingering with you, something you are hiding. And anyone who has Rajmael's trust, but will not trust him in return is nothing more than a cunning deceiver, and not to be trusted at all."

"If you truly believe this yourself, why not tell Rajmael? He is standing right there, and I'm sure he'd appreciate you informing my dishonesty." Solas inquired blithely.

"Perhaps I would rather you grow a spine and do it yourself, instead of hiding like a coward." Deshana dared. "So let me offer you this warning: if you want to make an enemy of Rajmael, you are certainly going down the right path. And I think you know better than I do, that Rajmael is an enemy no one wants to have."

"You are right in saying that that is not something I would ever want, but we never have a say in the outcomes of the paths we walk." Solas replied stoically. "Perhaps, when this is over, he will understand why I have done what I have done. But I am glad to know that people like you have guided him. There has never been another like him."

"I have given you my warning. Do with it what you will. But apostate or not, you are more than what you say you are. And if you make Rajmael your enemy, you never know a peaceful sleep ever again." The Keeper turned her back on Solas and walked back to her clan. As she walked away, Solas could feel the sting of her words biting into the back of his mind.

**~XoXoXo~**

The boat taking them out of Wycome left port, and Rajmael never took his eyes of the city his people had found a home in. This was the second time he had to leave his home and Eva behind, and it was even harder than the first because now his family lost another member.

"I am so sorry about your father, my love." Cassandra spoke, grasping his hand once more. "I wish I could have known him better. My father died when I was still very young, and I barely remember him. I...I would like to think he was like Junnarel."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, ma vhenan." Rajmael assured peacefully. "Everything I am, my family taught me to be. And parents are not supposed to outlive their children. I, I do not want to live a day longer than Eva does."

"Then let us finish Corypheus and make sure no harm will ever come to her." Cassandra bade hopefully.

"Hey, Inquisitor! I think you should see this." Varric pointed over to the cliff on the portside.

Rajmael looked to the top of the cliff and saw Eva looking down on their vessel with his entire clan riding behind her, all of them mounted on their hallas. Every member of Clan Lavellan, even the Keeper, took their bows and fired a volley of arrows that exploded like a thousand glimmering stars of every color over the ship. Rajmael waved to all of them, never taking his eyes of Eva, and felt his anguish melt away. He had returned with a heavy heart, but left with his clan's strength and blessings and felt his spirit revitalize. He would fulfill his mission, and he would do it with the might of Clan Lavellan with him in every footstep.

**Language Codex:**

**Andaran atish'an**: Elven greeting, roughly translates as _"I dwell in this safe place."_

**Dareth Shiral:** Elven farewell, translates as _"Safe Journey."_

**Da'vhenan:** An elven term of affection, translates as _"Little Heart."_

**Ma Vhenan:** Elven endearment. Roughly translated, _"My Heart."_

**Da'len:** Elven term for a child or someone younger. Literally translates as "Little one."

**Bora'nan:** Elven sickle-shaped weapon, translates as _"Flying Vengeance."_

**Vir Enasalin:** Elven, literally translates as _"Path of Victory."_

**Dirth'ena Enasalin:** Elven, translates as_ "Knowledge That Leads to Victory."_

**Dalen tir sulahn'nehn. Ar las enansal Mythal, Sylaise, Dirthamen:** Elven blessing. Roughly translated, _"Child of joy, I grant you the blessings of Mythal, Sylaise, and Dirthamen._

**Author's Note:**

**Okay! I've finally completed this chapter.**

**And I did it the right way this time, too.**

**Please, review and tell me what you think, I'm eager to know if I met my goal with this chapter.**

**Dragon age is the property of the BioWare Gaming Company.**

**This story was written for the enjoyment of the Dragon Age enthusiasts and the author.**

**I claim and own absolutely NOTHING!**


	32. Your Attention, Please!

**Your Attention, Please!**

I am sorry to disappoint you all, but this is not a new chapter, but an author's note. Sorry for getting your hopes up. But lately, I've been getting a lot of messages begging me to update soon. I know it has been two months since my last update, and I truly wish with all my heart that I could have spent that time writing, but it was not to be. I've been going through trade school for the past few months and it has been consuming all of my time. As much as I would love to be writing right now, because that's what I love doing, I have other priorities that come first.

I did not post this false chapter just to discourage you. On the contrary, I have something of a gift for all of my loyal readers. Earlier, I commissioned the deviantart artist by the Enife to draw portraits of all three of my Dragon Age protagonists, and I did this not only for my own gratification, but so that all of you could see the faces of my heroes. And I think Enife did a pretty damned good job of it. If you want to see what my protagonists look like, then I urge you to look up Enife on deviantart.

That's _**Enife**_ on deviantart. Her page and gallery. I'd type a link for you to follow, but this site won't let me do that for some reason.

The commission are under the titles _"I am Aedan of Highever", "Garret, Champion of Kirkwall"_ and _"Rajmael of Clan Lavellan"._ And please leave a comment on the pictures. Enife did a great job and she did so fast. I think she deserves praise. I shall endeavor to resume my writing as soon as possible, but must ask for your continued patience and understanding. I promise, it will be worth it. Not only my next chapter, but all the ones that will be following it.

Sincerely and with fondest regards,

**_Powerslammer._**


	33. March of The Inquisition

**March of The Inquisition**

It had been less than a week since Rajmael's return from Wycome in the Free Marches. A mere few days since Junnarel's death from being poisoned by red lyrium, and it still didn't feel real to Rajmael. Everyone did their best not to broach the subject and respect their leader's loss, for they all knew that the loss of the man who saved Rajmael's life and took him in as a son still tore him up inside. But the Inquisitor couldn't let his grief get the better of him. Not now, not when they were so close. First he would bury Corypheus and all his Venatori, then he would mourn everything he lost.

Rajmael stood in the War Room with his Council, never before had any of them seen the Inquisitor's face so grim. It was time to end this.

"What news of Corypheus and his forces?" Rajmael finally asked.

"They are reeling from their losses." Cullen answered gladly. "Being cut off from their supply of Red Lyrium, their failure at the Winter Palace, and without their army of demons to bolster their strength, Corypheus' forces are running scared."

"My scouts agree." Leliana added. "Our victories have shaken his disciples. Some are even fleeing Corypheus' service."

"Corypheus isn't going to go down quietly. He'll try to make one last grab for power to make us and his followers realize his power." Rajmael knew that all too well. "Where are his forces gathering now?"

"After your victory at Adamant, Corypheus uprooted his major strongholds and moved all his forces south to the Arbor Wilds. His army was clearly not ready to flee. We have them on the defensive for once." Josephine answered.

"Then that's where were going. Corypheus has lived long enough, and has brought this world nothing but misery. It's time to finally end his existence." Rajmael spoke with determination.

"What I don't understand is why is Corypheus taking his forces to such a remote area." Josephine voiced in. "I am no battle tactician, but the Arbor Wilds have no strategic value, and it takes him far from his objectives. Why risk taking all his forces there only to make them an easy target?"

"Corypheus has been sending his people to ransack elven ruins. Perhaps he seeks something lost there." Leliana suggested.

"There is something there." Rajmael confirmed as he stared down at the Arbor Wilds located on the War Map with a grim intensity in his eyes. "There is a ruin there, beyond ancient, and even during the time when my people ruled the Dales we never set foot near it. No one knows why, but the Keepers have always said that that forest is beyond sacred, and must never be invaded. Whatever resides there, no one, not even my own people, trespass there and come back out alive."

"You are quite correct, though I doubt Corypheus shares or even respects your superstitions. But perhaps I can help you determine what Corypheus actually seeks." A smooth voice with the cold embrace of winter spoke.

Rajmael was quite surprised to see Lady Morrigan standing right behind him, and he couldn't help but feel concerned. Morrigan didn't make it a habit of intruding on meetings or even leaving her son or whatever mysterious project she had unattended. "I suppose this is the part where you surprise all of us with the earth-shattering truth of whatever is you've been working on. Right, Morrigan?"

"Quite astute of you, Inquisitor." Morrigan chuckled. "However...'t'would be best if I should you."

Morrigan motioned the Inquisitor to follow her. Both the apostate mages made their way to the private room Morrigan had taken for herself, where she worked tirelessly on whatever secret thing she hid behind this door. And now Rajmael would finally see what she kept hidden in here. When Morrigan opened the door Rajmael could scarcely believe his own eyes when he saw what was there. A mirror, taller than any he had ever seen, even in Orlais. The frame and borders of it were inscribed with powerful magic runes, and it's surface held no reflection, but held a distorted surface like a frozen ripple in a lake.

Morrigan looked upon the mirror with awe and pride. "This is what I have been working on. It is called..."

"...An eluvian. A magic mirror created by my ancestors in the time of Arlathan." Rajmael finished. "A relic of great power. I've only ever heard of one that actually functions."

"I am surprised that you know of it. It took me years just to learn of their existence." Morrigan admitted somewhat impressed.

"Don't insult me, Morrigan. I was the First of my clan before I was the Inquisitor, I know the magic and power my people once held." Rajmael stated sternly. "What I don't know is how you have one, one that works even. When Tevinter ransacked the ancient capital, this was amongst the first things they plundered. I thought all had been destroyed."

"Many of them had been. It took the better part of ten years for me to restore this one, and at great cost." Morrigan answered, marveling at the product of her labor. "But another one lies within the Arbor Wilds, one that is fully functional. _That_ is what Corypheus seeks."

"How do you know this, Morrigan?"

"I've found legends of the ruins you mentioned. An ancient temple left untouched by the humans who destroyed the elven empire. A temple built for the honor and glory of Mythal." Morrigan explained. "I've found the path that led there far too dangerous to approach, and thus I turned elsewhere for my prize. If Corypheus succeeds where I failed, he could claim the eluvian for himself and find the power he seeks."

"What could this give him that the orb he possesses cannot?" Rajmael stared at the Anchor in his hand.

Morrigan held her hands before the mirror. The eluvian came to life in burst of magic, it's surface now shimmered like the surface of water and shimmered with magic. "There better question is 'Where would it lead him?'."

Morrigan walked through the mirror as easily as an open doorway and the shimmering blue portal accepted her. Rajmael had never seen such magic before. He took a deep breath and followed her through the looking glass.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael felt like he hadn't even taken a step forward and found himself on the other side of the mysterious portal. The Inquisitor and the Chasind woman stood in the middle of an alien realm, familiar yet so incredibly different from anything they knew. The artificial trees always found in elven ruins and even more eluvians, some still dormant and few active, all stood in infinite rows that seemed to go on forever in this strange place.

There was no sun here, but it was bright as day. Rajmael could see flickers of colors sparkling all through the air, like the light was being reflected through a thousand shards of broken glass. It was beyond beautiful. The Arcane Warrior could feel the magic in this strange realm saturating into his skin, like this place was created completely made of it. It was almost like the Fade, yet he was not dreaming.

"What is this place?" Rajmael asked in awe.

"If this place once had a name, it has long been lost." Morrigan informed quietly as Rajmael gazed at the scenery. "I call it the Crossroads. A place where all the eluvians converge...wherever they might be. The ancient elves left no roads, only ruin in far flung corners of the world. This was how they traveled between them. As you can see, most of the mirrors are dark: shattered, corrupted or unstable. As for the rest...a few can be opened from this side, but only a few."

"This place...it's beyond anything I have ever seen. It feels like the Fade, but it's not. It's constructed." Rajmael observed. "It is as if my ancestors took the magic of the world and created a dimension in between."

"A pocket realm between the fabric of time and space, perhaps." Morrigan agreed.

"All these light...these colors. It's beautiful! Like I was colorblind before coming here." Rajmael marveled. "Like all my life I've been living in the dark."

"Colors? I don't understand." Morrigan said confused. "I see no colors or light. To me, it's like seeing a dimly lit mist. Perhaps 'tis because you are elven?"

"Elven eyes see differently than humans. And this place was created long before the existence of humans. It reacts differently to elves." Rajmael reasoned. He could feel his own magic connecting to this place like it was a natural reflex. It was as if this place was in tuned with his own heartbeat. "But...the magic here...it's not stable. Dying. Soon this place will eventually collapse on itself. If my ancestors were capable of creating this place..."

"It seems remarkable, almost impossible, that the ancient Tevinter Imperium was able to challenge them, yes." Morrigan agreed. "For now, this place still has value."

"Why did you find this place? What value could it have for you?"

"It offered sanctuary." The witch answered nostalgically with an unfamiliar tone of happiness in her voice. "A respite with Aedan, a place where we could raise our son together. It was the happiest I had ever been. But...one can only remain between the worlds for so long. And we both had our duties beckon us."

"And this is what Corypheus is after. Access to the eluvians." Rajmael realized. "A way to enter the Fade without needing the Anchor."

"Access to the eluvians is not enough. One must have the right key, or the eluvians could lead him to any number of places and take him nowhere. One must have a key in order to unlock their destination."

"And I take it you have such a key."

Morrigan nodded her head. "The key to any eluvian is different. Unlocking even a single one requires tremendous knowledge and power, of which I have both. But I suspect Corypheus' knowledge and power outstrips mine, and with the right eluvian, he just may find the path to walk physically into the Fade that he so desperately desires."

"This cannot be allowed to happen. Corypheus has already perverted the artifacts and knowledge of my people to do immeasurable harm. He cannot be allowed to succeed and unleash something he knows nothing of."

"He has learned of the eluvian hidden in the Arbor Wilds, as I did. He marshals the last of his forces there to reach it." Morrigan led Rajmael back to the exit. "You have driven him to desperation. We must work together to stop him, and soon. Otherwise, everything we've both worked for will be destroyed along with this world."

Rajmael took one last look at the Crossroads, this dimension between dimensions. This strange place, and all it's magnificent colors and magic, a testament to the power and ingenuity of his once mighty ancestors. Rajmael could not let Corypheus befoul or bastardize the legacy of his people any further. He must not be allowed to befoul the Temple of Mythal.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael returned to the War Room and informed Leliana, Cullen and Josephine everything he had just learned. To say that they were shocked by such revelations would be a monumental understatement.

"With an eluvian, Corypheus could cross into the Fade into the flesh?" Leliana questioned disbelievingly.

"Indeed." Morrigan confirmed. "The Inquisitor can attest to the power of these relics, if one knows how to use them."

"And what happens when Corypheus enters the Fade?" Cullen asked.

"Why, he finishes what he started two thousand years ago, and gains his heart's desire, and taking his place as a god." The witch answered almost sardonically. "Or, and this is more likely, the lunatic unleashes forces that will rip this world apart."

"I've already seen what he will do if he is allowed to succeed. We cannot allow that to happen." Rajmael determined, recalling the hellish future he saw in Redcliffe.

"Pardon me." Josephine entered. "But does this mean that all is lost we get to this eluvian before him?"

"Corypheus already has a head start, no matter how quickly our army moves." Cullen realized. "He's turned his defeat into his advantage."

"Should we not call on our allies before calling a forced march?" Josephine suggested.

"Can we afford to wait for them?" Leliana countered calmly. "We should send our spies ahead to the Arbor Wilds."

"Without support from the soldiers? We'd lose half of them before we even arrive!" Cullen ridiculed the notion.

"Then what should we do?" Josephine asked worryingly.

"The first thing we do is calm down. We cannot let Corypheus' actions cloud our judgment not, not when we are so close." Rajmael intervened calmly. "Josephine, gather our allies and have them send scouts to meet us in the Wilds, make sure that Marquis Briala and her spies are there. Leliana, send your fastest agents to meet with them. Auger Siobahn and her Avvar would be perfect for this mission. I'm sure she and Scout Harding would be glad to see each other again. Together, we'll have enough spies to slow down Corypheus' forces until Cullen's soldiers arrive."

"That still won't be enough, Inquisitor." Cullen informed morosely. "Our forces are still reeling from the battle at Adamant. Many of our soldiers are still wounded, and many more are spread out across the strongholds and posts we have all over the South."

"Then call for Empress Celene and her army. It's time to call in the favors she owes me." Rajmael answered.

"After saving her throne, I believe she will be more than happy oblige you." Josephine smiled.

"Well said, Inquisitor. I dare say your authority reminds me of Aedan." Morrigan complimented honestly. "But 'tis not enough. The Arbor Wilds are not kind to outsiders. Ancient, powerful elven magicks linger in those woods."

"We would be remiss to not take full advantage of your knowledge in this matter, Lady Morrigan. Please, lend us your expertise." Josephine beguiled politely.

"'Tis why I came here, although it is good to see its value recognized." Morrigan responded.

"Any further instructions, Inquisitor?" Cullen asked.

Rajmael looked upon his Councilors with determination in his eyes and steel in his voice. "Ever since this started, we've been on the defensive. We've been the victims of Corypheus and his venatori. Haven, Halamshiral, Adamant. Every action he's taken has caused suffering, and we've had to stop it. But now _he's_ on the defensive, we have him cornered. Once we stop him here, he'll realize just how mortal he truly is, and we can finally put this nightmare to rest. Gather our forces, and make them ready. Corypheus must not reach that temple."

"We will make Corypheus pay for every crime he has committed." Cullen promised.

"Get Cassandra and the others ready, we leave immediately. I am going to make some last minute preparations."

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael made his way to the Undercroft beneath the Keep. There were only a couple of items he required here before he would be ready to depart in earnest. Rajmael saw the master of this forging domain wearing a welding helmet and was plying her craft to a suit of armor with a rod of fire burning brightly in her hand.

"Oh! Inquisitor, you're here." Arcanist Dagna chirped in surprise. She lifted the visor from her face, revealing that bubbly smile of hers. "I heard the news flying through the keep. Are you really about to launch a final assault on Corypheus?"

"That's right, Dagna. Which is why I'm here. Is it ready?"

"Oh, yes. Just let me grab it." The redheaded surface dwarf skipped over to her trunk, humming to herself. Dagna grabbed the item she was looking for, a small, tightly sealed box with complicated locks holding it shut and brought it over to the Inquisitor. She carefully opened the lid and revealed its content to Rajmael.

Rajmael looked upon the weapon Dagna had forged for him for exactly this occasion. A large rune depicting a downward sword betwixt two serpentine dragons rampart with their tails curled at the tip of the sword. The rune had a sickly aura about it that was obvious to anyone with magic or Stone Sense. The rune was forged entirely out of pure red lyrium.

"Are you sure that this is safe to use, Dagna?"

"Lyrium of any variety is dangerous, Inquisitor, but when properly processed and forged, it will do exactly what it was designed to do." A proud smile beamed across Dagna's face. "And as the first dwarven Arcanist, I am proud to say that this is the first rune ever made from red lyrium. It will shatter Samson's armor like glass."

"Perfect." Rajmael carefully took the one of a kind rune and secured it in his pack.

A concerned look came over Dagna's face as she watched the Inquisitor tuck her masterpiece away. "But Inquisitor? Are you sure you want to take this now? This is the only one in existence and I don't think we have time for me to forge another."

"With the last of Corypheus' forces gathered in the Arbor Wilds, he doesn't have the luxury of using only his fodder, he'll send his best. And Samson will do whatever it takes to please his master. I know he'll be there." Rajmael answered knowingly. "And the other item I asked you to look after?"

Dagna walked back to her trunk and grabbed the item in question."Yes, of course. I took the liberty to have it cleaned, but it was remarkable well preserved. The craftsmanship used is simply wonderful."

Dagna presented an artifact carefully wrapped in a swath of Great Bear hide and revealed the elven blade Evanura. The sword carried with it a bloody and violent history. Forged in the Temple of June in the time of the Elven Dales, this sword was wielded by the Emerald Knights to defend the elven borders. The last Emerald Knight to wield this blade was Lindrinae, who was killed during the Exalted March in the last battle during the Exalted March on the Dales. Rajmael discovered the blade resting under Lindrinae's Vallasdahlen in the Emerald Graves. Evanura was the sword for which Rajmael's first love was named after. It was also one of the swords that he used to kill Nethras, his adopted brother and Evanura's husband. Now Rajmael would wield it and the Enasalin to bring an end Corypheus' putrid existence.

**Later, In The Arbor Wilds**

Scout Harding silently led her men through the brush and shadows of the forest. She didn't know what it was, but something about this place made her uneasy, and it wasn't just the Red Templars and Venator, she could handle those just fine. No, something else was creeping her out. Even when she was in Crestwood and the Fallow Mire with all the undead walking around, and everywhere she was sent with Rifts and demons, she did not feel this nervous. She had this weird, guilty feeling that she was trespassing in someone's home, and that she was being watched. But that was impossible, no one could sneak up on her. Right?

Harding and her men were tasked by the Spymaster to hobble the Elder One's army's movement. It was basic saboteur stuff. Kill the enemy scouts, thin the ranks as they moved, take out their supply lines. Make it easier for the Inquisition army and allies could assemble on the field. And crippling an army moving on a forced march was the most ideal assignment for any accomplished scout. A forced march was always any military force's worst nightmare. Having to move a multitude of men without stop, risking fatigue before the battle even began, and often with limited supplies. Given how much the Inquisition crippling the Red Templars operations, Harding was surprised they even had boots on their feet.

They closed in another hastily made encampment. Harding silently signaled her men to carry out their assignments: they would go find whatever red lyrium storages that were stored here, and blow it up. While they did that, Harding would sneak through the tents and see if she could gather any useful information. Orders, troop movements, plans, that sort of thing. Harding was exceptionally well suited to sabotage and information gathering, and not just because she was tried. Turns out, small was good. It made her hard to notice and could sneak through enemy camps without them ever knowing it. It's good to be a dwarf.

Security around the camps didn't seem to be a high priority for these Templars. They were too focused on trying to get wherever it was they were going to be concerned with anything else. Whatever it was they were trying to reach, it must have been pretty damned important for them to just discard basic camp security.

A loud explosion erupted from the south end of the camp which shook the ground. Her men just got done blowing up one their lyrium cashes. Harding waited behind a bush as Red Templar Captain and his men ran out of their tents to go inspect the chaos. While they were busy with that, she'd go see what they left lying around the tent.

There wasn't much here. Some lyrium vials, a whetstone and some extra weapons. A forced march doesn't exactly give you a lot of time to pack things. Then Harding found exactly what she was looking for: papers. A map that pinpointed the place the Red Templars were trying to reach. It was a lot deeper in the forest than she thought. And there was another paper, too. An official-looking letter.

_**To all captains of the Red Templars:**_

_**We're not stopping to deal with these elven fanatics. Press forward, post more guards, and handle the ambushes as they come. Finding the Temple of Mythal is our first and only task. Once I become the Vessel, our Master can finally claim the power waiting for him; no elves, no city, no nation will be a match for a living god.**_

_**This is the day we've bled for. The Inquisition and Orlesians are snapping at our heels, and you've sacrificed more than anyone should ask, but if we fall here, the deaths of your brothers and sisters meant nothing. I won't let that happen. I know none of you will, either.**_

_**For the glory of the Elder One,**_  
_**General Samson.**_

Orders from Samson himself? The Templars knew the Inquisition was hot on their trails, they must be getting desperate to continue pushing the way they were. But what was this talk about elven fanatics? Was the Inquisitor's Dalish tribesman out here as well? Wait. This note gave orders about posting more guards and being ready for ambushes. That meant this place wasn't as defenseless as she thought...

"Turn around slowly, Inquisition scum!" A deep, gravely voice ordered.

Harding obeyed. There were four Templar guards, all in a state of mutation from the red lyrium, and all armed with swords. This could get interesting.

"Scouts never work alone, we need to find her cohorts." The captain ordered.

They only found her. Good. It means the others weren't here anymore.

"Look at this boys! The Inquisition sends a dwarven runt to do a man's job!" One of the Templars mocked, getting a laugh out of his compatriots.

Now they made it just a little bit personal. "Okay, now you see that, that wasn't very nice." Harding threw the stiletto she had hidden in her sleeve faster than they could blink right into the laughing Templar's groin. The Templar fell to his knees screaming in such high pitch he could have shattered glass. The captain yelled in anger and tried to cut her down with his sword. Harding easily dashed behind him and cut his hamstrings with the other stiletto she had, bringing down to his knees then slitting his throat.

Harding grabbed her bow and did a running jump off the kneeling Templar she castrated, launching herself high in the air above the remaining Templars. Airborne, and with her bow in hand, she quickly launched two arrows with astonishing speed and accuracy, shooting both the Templars right in the visors of their helmets. The arrowheads went through their eyes and out the back of their heads.

All that remained now was the screaming emasculated Templar. He coughed up some blood, and found Harding looking down on _him_, with an arrow pointed at his face. "Who's the runt now?" Was the last thing the Templar heard before the scout's arrow flew right between his eyes.

Harding did her best not to giggle like an idiot. That the first one-liner she said during a mission, like something out of Hard in Hightown. But the pat on the back would have to wait until later. She had to get back with her men and rendezvous with the Inquisition's forces. They needed to know what the Templars' movements were and where they were headed. And who knows, maybe she could catch up with a certain Avvar Shaman before the real battle started?

**The Inquisition War Camp, Arbor Wilds...**

The Dragon Age was defined by the battles that had changed the course of history. First when King Maric drove Orlais from his country and again when his son King Alistair and the Hero of Ferelden vanquished the Blight. Not since that crucial moment ten years ago in Denerim had so many from such different backgrounds gathered in one place to fight a common enemy. Leliana, Cullen and Josephine sent out the call to all that would hear, and many answered. Avvar Tribesman, Orlesian Chevaliers, Rebel Mages, and Inquisition soldiers from every race and walk of life came to this unforgiving woodland to determine the fate of their future.

The combined armies gathered almost right into the heart of the Arbor Wilds. These primordial woods were as dense as the mountains and twice as treacherous. The trees were titanic in size, the canopy barely letting the sun in and the covering the forest floor in shadow. There had always been tales of a lost city filled with ancient treasures hidden in deep within this forest, but in all those centuries not a soul has ever found proof of such claims. Not for lack of those brave, greedy or foolish enough, no. But because any and all who ventured into this place was never seen again, as if they had been simply erased from existence. And now, there were two armies fighting right in the middle of it.

While the main host of their army was engaging the bulk of Corypheus' forces, Rajmael and his Councilors were giving last minute orders to their people. Rajmael was quite surprised to see both Empress Celene and Marquis Briala at his camp with their forces. Josephine was speaking with both of them, giving them assurances about the battle. Briala wore a simple Lincoln green leather jerkin and pants to blend in with the forest surroundings and was armed with a deadly pair of stilettos. Celene, on the other hand, was wearing the same satin blue gown and mask she wore at the Winter Palace, much to Rajmael's disbelief.

"Your faith in your Commander is well placed, Ambassador. Victory is all but insight." Celene complimented confidently.

"With Orlais' Imperial Guard at our side, it was never in doubt, Your Grace." Josephine assured. "But would it not be wise for you and the Marquis to move further from the field? Corypheus has been sighted in the fray."

"Dear Lady Montilyet, the Marquis and I cannot send our subject where we ourselves fear to tread." Celene insisted gracefully. "All of Thedas will see Orlais stand triumphant with the Chosen of Andraste."

"I am not the Chosen of Andraste." Rajmael half growled. "That's just wishful thinking on behalf of those who exchanged one symbol of false hope for another."

"Ah, Inquisitor, it is good to see you once more." Celene greeted. Briala nodded her head in respect for Rajmael. "Despite what you believe, or don't believe, it is good to finally see the Inquisition's purpose fulfilled."

"Yes. I am eager to finally put this behind me." Rajmael agreed dourly. "Josephine, if the fighting get any closer, I want you to move everyone back. Keep them away from the fighting."

"Of course, Inquisitor. Good luck."

Morrigan stood at the edge of the camp with the rest of the Inquisitor's followers. She watched as her former benefactor exchanged words with the Inquisitor. "'Tis quite remarkable. Here in the midst of battle against one of the greatest threats to all of Thedas, far from the comforts and confines of the court, and Celene still intentionally wears such outlandish garments. Does she think she can walk a battlefield as easily as a ballroom?"

"Be it a battlefield, a ballroom, or a pit of vipers, a true leader is capable of walking anywhere with dignity and grace, though I doubt that is something you could learn in a cold swamp." Vivienne slighted with cold indifference and poise.

"Ah, Madame de Fer. It is quite comforting to hear the subtle barbs of your tongue. It reminds me so much of my childhood." Morrigan chuckled. "Though your barbs don't possess the same sting I am accustomed to."

"I am sure an uncouth apostate such as yourself is used to squalor and spite. Being in the court must have presented such a challenge for your limited expertise." Vivienne continued tauntingly. "It's a wonder Celene ever tolerated you in the first place."

"Hah. Perhaps 'tis cause the Empress values true experience and accomplishment, and not just the false ones so easily found in the Orlesian Court." Morrigan countered. "Given how little you've actually participated in anything that didn't involve sipping wine, or being in a married man's bed, I'm surprised the Inquisitor has found any use for you at all. Though you may want to consider less strenuous activities. You have more wrinkles about your face than last we met."

That last comment snapped Vivienne's famous cold façade and angry fire lit up in her eyes.

Fearing a fatality between the two powerful lady mages before they even entered the battlefield, Varric decided to use his famous charm to diffuse the situation before these two had a magic-powered catfight that would leave them all standing in a crater.

"So, uh, you're the famous witch who fought at the Hero of Ferelden's side, right?" Varric interrupted urgently.

Morrigan smugly turned her attention from the Iron Lady to the dwarven author. "Yes, I did. 'Twas one of my...proudest accomplishments. Though it wasn't my first or last." That last sentence carried an air of condensation, and Morrigan eyed Vivienne with a smug look on her face.

"No kidding. You know, Hawke and I met the Hero of Ferelden back in Kirkwall, before that mess with the Templars came to a head." Varric chuckled. "That encounter left quite an impression."

Morrigan quirked an eyebrow, knowing full well Varric's reputation for telling tales, and spinning lies. "Really? Somehow, I find that difficult to believe, storyteller."

"So do I." Cassandra glowered Varric with a criticizing eye. "I find it difficult to believe that you omitted this tale when we first met."

"It's true, I'll vouch for him." Cullen added honestly. "Trust me, that's not an encounter you could ever forget."

"And how is it that you failed to mention this particular tale, Varric?" Cassandra questioned.

"Well, there was a lot on my mind, Seeker." Varric shrugged off. "For example, there was you kidnapping me, interrogating me for information, then interrupting me when I started telling you bits you didn't like. And besides...I was actually trying really hard to forget some parts of that encounter."

"Ah, I see." Morrigan laughed. She looked at Cullen and Varric both with a look of deep curiosity. "Tell me, what kind of impression did my lo-...former comrade leave from his time in Kirkwall?"

Varric and Cullen both shared a look of dread as a collective chill crawled up their spine at the mere memory of that encounter. Just thinking about threatened to give them nightmares.

"Well, he, uh, ahem...almost cleaved my skull in half." Cullen admitted apprehensively.

Varric shook his head, looking as though he just woke from a terrible nightmare. "I...really don't want to talk about it. It took me a while to shake the nightmares from my dreams, and I don't want to relive them."

"Ah, yes. Now that does sound like Aedan." Morrigan laughed. "He does tend to leave such an impression on people."

"Right now I wish we had the Hero of Ferelden right now. I'm sure he'd just rip the Red Templars apart with his bare hands cut Corypheus' head off with a butter knife." Rajmael interjected sarcastically. "But since he isn't, we're just going to have to make do."

"Inquisitor." Morrigan addressed. "I take it by your presence here that we are ready to depart?"

"Yes. We are." Rajmael motioned his entire inner circle to gather around and here what their next critical move was going to be.

"My agents have confirmed that there is indeed a temple further into the woods." Leliana informed. "I've also received scattered reports that Corypheus himself is trying to make his way there."

"Then there is no room for error." Cullen determined. "While our main forces draw Corypheus' army away from him, the Inquisitor and his company will make straight for the Temple."

"We only have a token force to help us hold back Corypheus' soldiers, and we don't have time to fight in the battle. We must reach the temple and stop Corypheus here if we are to turn the tide of battle in our favor." Cassandra spoke with that fire in her eyes.

"The ballistaes will keep most of the Venatori and Red Templars from doubling back and flanking us, but if they're not careful they'll do the enemies work for us." Blackwall pointed out.

"I hope you're right about this temple, Lady Morrigan. I could use a building or two." Dorian commented longingly.

"Do the woods make you nervous, Pavus?" Morrigan teased.

"It's mostly the things in the woods that are trying to kill us that make me nervous." Dorian answered. "Coupled with the fact that no one who has entered this forest has ever come back out again. So cities spell safety to me."

"Yeah, I'm with him." Sera added nervously. "Cities with loads of pockets and places to hide, good. Evil magic forest that eats people, not good."

"We've already dealt with the demon army and corrupted Wardens at Adamant, I doubt whatever is in this forest can be any worse than that." Rajmael reasoned confidently. At the moment he couldn't think of anything that was worse than the Nightmare and it's demon army being led by some of the best warriors and tacticians in all of Thedas. What in these woods could possibly be worse than them? "Corypheus already has a head start on us. We have to get moving now."

One of the sergeants in the ballista units approached the Inquisitor with a respected salute. "Inquisitor!"

"How goes the battle, captain?"

"We've got the bastards on the run, my lord. Soon there won't be any Red Templars left standing." The captain informed. "Our scouts saw Corypheus moving towards an elven ruin in the north. We can clear you a path straight to him."

"Then now is the time to move. Get the trebuchets ready. We're going now."

"At one, my lord. May Andraste's grace guide you." The captain saluted before running off to man her post.

Morrigan watched the captain resume her duty and looked at the Inquisitor with a curious glint in her eyes. "I wonder: does Andraste your soldiers invoke while in battle, or does a more immediate name come to their lips?"

"That thought bothers me more than you think, Morrigan." Rajmael answered satirically. "Being the object of a faith that is not my own is like they are forgetting that my loyalty is to my own people's culture."

"Given what the loyalist fools of the Chantry have done to your people, I can hardly blame you. I certainly wouldn't want to be revered by pious sheep." Morrigan disdained. "And I am sure that you're more likely to come to their aid than a Chantry fable, but I digress. The Temple of Mythal awaits us."

The Inquisitor and his allies made their way into the thick forest, trying to move as quickly as they could and avoid direct confrontation to reach the temple. Inquisition soldiers battling Red Templars while Rebel Mages engaged the Venatori. The intensity of the battle between the two factions shook the whole forest. Sounds of steel clashing and men dying echoed off the trees as columns of acrid black smoke billowed over the canopy, and freshly spilt blood polluted the streams on the forest floor.

Despite the immediate danger, Rajmael couldn't help but feel that there was something else here. As though there was something else walking around in this forest. Rajmael had spent his whole life living in the wild, and always felt free. But here? He felt like he was an unwelcome guest in another's home.

"Just out of curiosity, Lady Morrigan, how did you learn of the temple in this forest?" Dorian asked curiously, trying to keep his mind off the impending danger. "I doubt finding lost ancient elven ruins is so easy that you can just make a hobby out of it."

"My travels and studies have taken me to many places thought lost or forgotten. And I have always had a keen interest in lost knowledge and the power of the ancient elves."

Solas' eyes squinted harshly as he stared at the witch closely.

"Indeed, my knowledge outstrips the Dalish when it comes to researching lost secrets of the Arcane..."

"For someone who claims to have such a keen interest in the ancient knowledge of my ancestors, you certainly approach the subject with the same arrogance as most humans, Morrigan." Rajmael interrupted, offended. "You may have an interest in my ancestors, and you're interested in the value of their knowledge, but you care seem to care very little about the price."

"Maybe you two can have this philosophical debate when these guys are too dead to try and kill us!" Iron Bull hollered as he charged down a large group of Red Templars and Venatori that were in their way. Inquisition soldier were engaging them, but they were outnumbered. The Bull would turn the tide in their favor.

The muscle-bound ox-man charged headlong into the fray, swinging his enormous axe with full force at the servants of Corypheus. Like a hedge clipper to weeds, he cut them down with ease.

"Eat this, lyrium-lickers!" Sera cackled. She knocked three arrows into her bow string and shot them straight between the eyes of three Spellbinders, preventing them from casting any spells.

"Bet Bianca and I can shoot more of these guys than you can, Buttercup." Varric wagered laughing.

"You're on!"

Cassandra used her Seeker abilities to ignite the red lyrium growths on several Red Templar Horrors, making the crystals explode before finishing them while they screamed in agony. The Seeker charged in with a shield bash, crushing the remaining red lyrium clusters on his body, then jammed the edge of her shield into his neck, crushing his larynx.

Dorian and Vivienne unleashed an onslaught of ice and fire spells on the Venatori mages while Solas laid out a protective barrier around their allies. The Venatori targets soon found them selves burnt to a crisp and frozen into brittle statues that were quickly shattered.

When the Inquisition soldiers saw their leader and his companions turning the fight in their favor renewed their vigor.

"For the Herald!"

"Long live the Inquisition!"

"Death to the Elder One!"

"Ha! Boss, this is almost too easy! Look, they're bugging out!" Iron Bull laughed, pulling his axe out of a Venatori Brute while the rest of them fell back. Bull was so distracted by the ease of his victory that he didn't see the massive silverite hammerhead swinging at him. Fortunately, it wasn't in his blindspot and Bull was able to roll with the hit. But he was definitely seeing some stars now.

A squad of heavily armed and armored men stood strong to halt the Inquisitor's advance to the temple. All of them wearing masterfully crafted silverite armor bearing the crest of the Griffon.

Rajmael could scarcely believe his own eyes. "Wardens!"

No longer held back by a sense of false brotherhood, and knowing full well what had become of these once valiant men, Blackwall charged the Warden who struck Iron Bull with that hammer. The Warden smashed his weapon down on Blackwall, but was blocked by the face of his shield. Blackwall deflected the hammer to the side and swiped his mace to the unarmored joint on the side of the Warden's knee, smashing all the bone and tissue into gravel. The Warden screamed in agony beneath his visor as he fell to his now broken knee. Blackwall reared back his mace, and with one more powerful swing to the man's head, he busted through the silverite helmet and skull, silencing him.

Cole dashed past several Wardens, he moved so quickly it was like they were only blinking. His daggers glided through the chink in the Warden's armor between their breastplate and helmet with masterful precision. Waves crimson erupted from beneath their visors when Cole sliced open their corarted arteries and jugular veins, and dropped to the ground dead.

It had been a very long time since Morrigan had partaken in battle. Not since those days when she fought side-by-side with her beloved Aedan had she been in the midst of such intense fighting. But Morrigan was not one to just stand by while others fought. She focused her magic inward, sought out the form she desired. Remembered its nature, its soul, the very essence of its being. The Witch sprang into the air and landed back on to the ground in the form of a dreaded giant spider. With her many eyes, legs like spears, pincers that could rend armor, and shooting toxic venom and sticky webbing, the Chasing shapeshifter came down upon the screaming Wardens like something out of a nightmare.

"Oh, holy friggin'...! That ain't right!" Sera shouted, aghast and pale at the sight of Morrigan mauling their enemy.

With Evanura in his left hand and Enasalin in his right, Rajmael's Shimmering aura enveloped him, and charged the taint-corrupted knights. Knowing who their primary target was, five Wardens attacked the elven Inquisitor all at once with their silverite longswords. All three Wardens moved with the skill and technique of master swordsmen, but Rajmael was on a different level entirely, wielding both his swords as though it were as natural as breathing. His style was a magnificent amalgam of grace, ferocity and magical mastery. Rajmael's skill was so great, that he was pushing his attackers back instead of the other way around. Now with two swords in his hands, Rajmael could attack and defend simultaneously, giving his enemies now room to even react. They attacked, he parried and counter-attacked. As they withdrew he advanced.

The Inquisitor phased past the first Warden, incorporeal as a ghost, cutting his enemy's head off with Evanura. Another corrupted Warden stabbed at the Inquisitor, Rajmael expertly parried and stabbed the man through the chest with Enasalin, the sword's veilfire blade completely bypassing the Warden's armor and jammed outside of his back, skewering him like a piece of meat. The Inquisitor noticed another Warden standing not far behind his dead companion, ready to attack. Rajmael charged his magic through the Enasalin and an arc of lightning shot from the tip of his sword while it was still stuck in the dead man and struck the other Warden in the head. His helmet acted like a conductor for the lightning and made his head explode into chucks of skull, brain and metal.

Two Warden archers knocked their arrows and took aim at the Inquisitor's back flank while his sword was still stuck inside their dead comrade. Rajmael threw Evanura horizontally at the archers. The blade spun rapidly in the air like a buzzsaw and flew straight threw one of the Warden's neck like a flying guillotine, and then arced in midair and flew at the remaining Warden, and separated the upper half of his head from his lower jaw, leaving behind a geyser of blood and his tongue dancing like a snake.

Rajmael extended his hand, and Evanura magically flew back into his grip. He swiped the blood of both his blades, and returned them to their sheaths. Rajmael looked at the dead former Wardens with pity in his eyes. "These Wardens must be all that is left of the ones we fought at Adamant."

"If they are forced to obey Corypheus, then death is a mercy." Cassandra said sympathetically.

Cole looked down at the dead men sadly. "They heard the song. Listened to it until it was all they knew. Let it fill them, consume them. Now it is all they know."

Morrigan reverted back to her human form. "There is no need to feel sorry for these men. They chose to listen to the song of the Calling than to reason, as Warden Stroud had. That it led them to their deaths is no surprise."

"I agree, and we must keep moving." Solas insisted.

"Everyone, keep you guard up. Engage only if necessary. We still need to make it to that temple." Rajmael knew these weren't the only Wardens he was probably going to fight here, and this forest was still crawling with Red Templars and Venatori. Yet that wasn't his main concern at the moment. He still couldn't shake that feeling that there was something else here, like a feeling of forboding when someone trespasses into another's home or walks on a grave. But he couldn't let that stop them. They had to keep moving.

Rajmael and the others pushed further into the forest, engaging Red Templars, Venatori and corrupted Grey Wardens, all servants enslaved to the Elder One. All of them fought with the tenacity and rabid ferocity of blind zealots; eagerly, carelessly throwing their own lives away all for the sake of the walking disease they believed to be a god. But Corypheus wasn't the only one who commanded an army of believers willing to lay down their lives for a cause they believed greater than themselves.

**~XoXoXo~**

The Inquisitor and his comrades came upon a fortified clearing in the middle of a forest path. This clearing was strategically important because there was a natural path that led closer to the temple. The Red Templars knew how important holding this line was, so they set up a camp here and barricaded it with some heavy defenses. The Inquisition's soldiers arrived and engaged the Templars to give the Inquisitor a path to follow. Except there was one huge problem with this scene: everyone was dead. Red Templars and Inquisition both, their bodies all laid strewn all over the camp with their blood mingling with each others. The path had been turned into a killing field.

"Ashante kaffas..." Dorian gasped at the macabre sight. "What happened here?"

"Look at the bodies..." Iron Bull pointed out. "No way to tell which wound killed them, but judging from the way the bodies are positioned, I'd say they all died where they fought. It came so fast they all died with their eyes open."

"Red Templars _and _Inquisition soldiers. How could this have happened?" Cassandra questioned aghast and confused.

"They wondered the same thing before they died." Cole said cryptically.

"C'mon, Kid, don't be like that." Varric urged. "Fighting's pretty bad here, maybe they killed each other?"

"Even on the most intense battlefields, there are always survivors from one side or the other." Blackwall reasoned. "Something else is going on here."

"They were even able to bring down several Behemoth Red Templars. Not a small feat." Vivienne added.

"Perhaps this forest isn't as vacant as we once thought." Morrigan said stoically.

Rajmael stared at the bodies of his comrades and enemies alike, wondering what in the world could have killed all of them. Then that strange feeling came over him again, stronger than ever. His skin crawled as the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up, and his pointed ears twitched involuntarily. It felt as though something was watching them. In fact, he knew they were.

"Rajmael? Is something wrong?" Cassandra asked, noticing the bewildered look on his face.

**"AMBUSH!"**

Dozens of arrows flew out of the treetops and descended on them like rain. Rajmael drew both his swords and slashed a large arc of arcane force at the volley of arrows and deflected them away from all of them. Cassandra's instincts kicked in, and raised her shield to her face, narrowly deflecting the daggers that were throw at her eyes from the forest shadow. The initial attack failed, and all of them stood ready for another wave. The unknown assailants emerged from the shadows, as quiet as leaves falling. And most shockingly of all, All of them, Rajmael most of all, were shocked beyond belief to see that these assassin were actually tattooed elves.

They all wore a set of armor of ancient, unknown yet familiar design. Every one of them was armed with an elegant, but lethal dagger, sharp and hewn enough to cut through flesh, bone and armor like it was paper. They all stood ready to engage the unwelcome invaders.

"Venaves! Ir'a Vhenallin." Rajmael pleaded. He did not want to kill his fellow elves.

"Na'din shemlen!" One of the elven guerrillas snarled, and they all attacked the outsiders who intruded on their forest.

Rajmael had never seen elves like these before, neither amongst his fellow Dalish or city kin. They were faster, stronger, more highly trained than any elf they had ever encountered, almost like the Vir Banal'ras Nethras had trained. But Rajmael and his company were no push-overs, either. And in open field, outnumbered and without the element of surprise, they were the ones who were disadvantaged.

These elves were fast, slippery, and difficult to hit, but armed with those daggers, they had to get really close to their victims in order to be effective. But Rajmael and his companions were amongst the most elite professionals in all of Thedas, and they had already faced the best assassins, most horrid demons, and vile monstrosities. And it was obvious that these strange elves had never fought invaders of this caliber before. They would not back down on.

Outnumbered and outmatched, without any mages our back up to aid them, and refusing to back down, the Inquisitor and his companions made short work of the would-be assassins, much to Rajmael's chagrin. But even he knew that these elves gave them no choice. Rajmael plunged one of his sword through the last strange elf's chest, with deep regret behind his blow. The Inquisitor gently set his fellow elf down as the blood began to run out of his body.

"Lethalin, quenethra?" Rajmael begged.

"Mth...Mythal...Enaste..." The dying elf spoke with his last breath.

Rajmael sighed with deep despondence and closed his fellow elf's eyes out of respect before pulling Evanura out of the elf's chest. "Mythal enaste, lethalin."

"Those weren't like any elves I've ever seen, and I've seen all kinds." Varric stated. "What were they?"

"Did you see those moves they were using? These aren't just some random guerrillas, these were some hardcore stealth fighters." Iron Bull pointed out.

"If Rajmael hadn't sensed them, we'd probably all be dead." Cassandra said with mixed relief and concern.

"But why did they attack us un the first place?" Blackwall inquired.

"It is there home. They fight to conceal it, to protect it." Cole answered sympathetically.

"These people were merely protecting what they've sworn to defend." Solas added, matching Cole's sympathy. "Killing them was...unfortunate."

"Pbbt! Yeah, right!" Sera retorted. "They's the ones who attacked us first. If they didn't want to die, they shouldn't have been so stupid."

"I hardly think you're one to judge the stupidity of others, Sera. Given how little you regard your own." Solas responded, deeply offended.

"Pbbt!" Sera blew her tongue at the elven apostate and stuck two fingers up at his face.

"Perhaps this temple isn't as deserted as we thought." Morrigan confirmed.

"Did you see their face? All of them, they had the same marks, the same Vallaslin." Rajmael pointed out. "They've sworn to honor Mythal."

"Then perhaps they are the Temple's protectors." Morrigan indicated. "Perhaps these creatures are the reason why no one who enters this forest has ever returned."

"Elves, Morrigan. They are elves. Not creatures!" Rajmael clarified with anger in his voice.

"Darling, as much as I would love to see you put this Chasind apostate in her place, perhaps now is not the time for this?" Vivienne suggested.

And as much as Rajmael hated to agree with Vivienne on anything, she did have a point. They had to keep pressing on. "Alright, let's keep moving. The plan's the same; keep our confrontations to a minimum and power on through until we reach the temple. But keep this in mind, Morrigan: this is _ME_ you're talking to. And you can confirm this with Vivienne; I do not suffer other people bullshit, no matter who you're sleeping with. So I suggest you bite down on those barbs you got on your tongue." Vivienne shifted uncomfortably at the last comment.

"I...will take it under advisement." Morrigan said through her teeth.

"Rajmael, please! We must keep going." Cassandra urged. "Our forces won't be able to keep Corypheus' forces at bay for us much longer."

**~XoXoXo~**

Once again, they pushed further into the forest, trying so desperately to reach the walls of that temple before Corypheus could claim his prize. The further they delved into the forest, the more intense the fighting was. But now it wasn't just the Inquisition and their allies fighting against the Elder One's forces, but now there were these strange elves fighting against all of them. Friend, foe, it didn't matter to them. They no longer even bothered to conceal themselves. All that mattered was killing as many of these intruders as they could. This could no longer be considered a battle, but a free-for-all melee with all sides trying so desperately to kill each other, all of them fighting with all their hearts for the cause they believed in.

They came across another killing field at another elven ruin that appeared to be a shrine. The Red Templars here were already slain, a whole company of them. Only a mere handful of the strange savage elves lay dead amongst the intruders. It became deathly apparent that these elves were no strangers to fighting off invaders. And given how no one who ever entered this primeval forest alive, Rajmael guessed these elves were masters of their domain.

"What is this supposed to be?" Blackwall asked.

"An altar to Mythal." Rajmael answered.

"How can you tell?"

"By that statue." Rajmael pointed to the elven styled dragon statue that loomed over the altar.

"Doesn't look like any kind of dragon statue I've ever seen?" Dorian observed. Unlike most depictions of dragons that featured them as fearsome or even monstrous, this elven statue portrayed it as wise yet still held an aura of power.

"The elves worshipped dragons? I thought that was more of a Tevinter thing." Iron Bull pointed out.

"My people and our symbols predate the Tevinter Imperium, their empire was built on the knowledge and power they stole from us." Rajmael reminded. "A High Dragon is the ultimate creature of the fairer sex, and therefore the avatar of Mythal. Just as the halla is Ghilanain and the hare is Andruil's."

"Did the ancient elves ever practice human sacrifice?" Varric inquired.

"Not...to my knowledge." Rajmael answered.

"No, the didn't" Solas answered almost offended. "That is an inaccurate and derogatory depiction of the ancient elves."

"Well...then what's this guy's story?" Varric pointed to the desiccated corpse of a man whose bones were so ancient they were ready to crumble to dust beneath the armor he was wearing. It looked as though he had been placed on the altar and sacrificed on top of it. judging from how the skull was separated from its neck.

"This man is a Templar, but not one of Samson's, obviously." Cassandra observed the Sunburst of the Chantry on his tunic. "Judging from the style of his armor, I'd say he was from the earlier years of the Chantry."

"What would a holy knight be doing in a desolate forest this far away from the Chantry?" Vivienne wondered.

"Whoever he was, he was no pushover. Just look at the size of him!" Iron Bull noticed. In life this Templar must have stood at least 6'5". "And check out this weapon! He must of done some serious damage with this thing." The horn-headed mercenary picked up a gigantic maul that was left at the feet of the dead Templar. To look at it, you wouldn't think it was the weapon of a religious knight. The hammer head and pommel looked as though they were crafted from bone, no wanted to guess what kind of animal it came from. It was imbued with a very powerful lightning enchantment. But must grisly of all was the skull that was spiked right on top of it and secured by a heavy chain that was wrapped around the hammer head.

"Holy Dirthamen..." Rajmael glared hatefully at the very sight of that heinous weapon. Despite seeing it for the first time, he recognized it immediately.

"You, uh, know this weapon, Boss?" Iron Bull noticed the look the Inquisitor was giving the hammer, and it was making him nervous.

"Every Dalish elf knows that weapon, and every elf in Thedas knows who this knight is. Ser Mhemet!" Rajmael spat the name out of his mouth like as though it left a vulgar taste on his tongue.

"Is that somebody famous?" Dorian asked curiously.

"Ser Mhemet was a Templar from Rivain who lived almost eight hundred years ago. He fought in the Exalted March on the Dales." Cassandra answered with a hint of shame in her voice. "His...desire for killing elves was almost legendary."

"And for the outstanding service he provided for the Chantry, by sending many of my brethren's souls to the Maker, the Divine saw give that butcher the rank of Anointed." Rajmael continued with disgust. "The last anyone ever heard of him, he was chasing the elves the fled Halamshiral southward to the forests."

"He came here, searching hunting. Wanting to bathe his hammer with more elven blood. Do it for the Maker, the Maker smiles on me." Cole whispered, feeling the memories of the dead Templar. "But he never found them._ They_ caught him."

"It would seem that in his hunt for the Dalish refugees, he was instead caught by these elves when he trespassed into their territory, and then killed in Mythal's named." Solas concluded.

"A ghastly end for a ghastly man." Morrigan chuckled. "'T'would seem that fate is not without a sense of irony."

"Being killed in Mythal's name was an honor this murdering pig didn't deserved." Rajmael hocked in his throat and spat into Mhemet's empty eye socket before snatching the weapon of his people's enemy from Iron Bull's hands. Rajmael lifted it above his head and smashed all that remained of Ser Mhemet into dust. "Mhemet, you genocidal piece of shit. You never looked better! Maybe you burn in the beyond for all that you did!"

The dust from Mhemet's bones filled the air and his armor broke apart like gravel.

"Feel better now, Inquisitor?" Varric asked.

"Yeah, a little bit."

"Okay, well, there's a lot of other Templars out in the forest here who need to die more than this guy. Maybe we should go make that happen?" The dwarf suggested.

"Huh. Good point. Let's not keep them waiting any longer."

**~XoXoXo~**

The Inquisition Forces and Orlesian Knights fought side by side against Grey Wardens as the former Rebel Mages unleashed years of pent up anger and aggression against their former custodians. And the Venatori learned a new meaning of fear when the clans of the Avvar, led by Siobahn Skinchanger, came down upon them screaming with fury like something out of their worst nightmares. Their Tevinter style blood magic was no match against the shamanism of the Avvar tribes. And all of them, no matter their race, human, elf, dwarf, even qunari, held in their hearts, that hope that once seemed impossible, yet here they were. They could defeat this enemy. Corypheus was no god. They could win.

"For Andraste and the Empire!" A Chevalier cried, raising the banner of Orlais and held it triumphantly.

Siobahn stood at the front with her fellow Avvar, their axes, mauls and faces all wet with the blood of their enemies. The sounds and heat of battle made the mountain-men hungry for more. "Children of the Frostbacks! Stone-Bear Hold, Redhold, Bear, Fennec-Tooth, Wyvern, my brothers! The gods have more favor to us than any other race in all of Thedas. We marched upon the Blight when the Lowlanders called. We sent the darkspawn running from the gates of Denerim. And now we face one who dares think that he can compare to our gods! Let's show these weak-hearted Venatori slavers the true might of the gods of the Frostbacks! Korth Mountain-Father, hear our battle cries! Hakkon Wintersbreath, grant us strength and glory in battle! Lady of The Skies, we commend these souls to you! The birds will feast well tonight!"

The army of Avvar tribesman roared with such a battle cry that it could be heard all the way in the Frostback Mountains. A new sense of terror gripped the hearts of the Venatori as they vainly tried to hold their ground against the battle-hungry Avvar who came charging down on them, screaming like something out of their worst nightmares. In their last moments, they would find the strength of the Elder One to be wanting.

The Avvar were born in conflict. Every day of their lives, infancy to adulthood, was a battle for survival in the harsh conditions of the Frostbacks. Nothing prepared men for battle the way nature did, and Korth Mountain-Father people strong. A quality that the absent, faceless god of the Southerners lacked. And it would seem this would-be Tevinter god did little to make his followers strong, save perhaps granting them that horrid red lyrium. But it didn't make them strong, it just made them a little harder to kill.

Siobahn unleashed the fury of Korth's burning heart down on her enemies. Fire spat from the mouth of the bear skull mounted atop of her staff, bequeathed to her by her predecessor. With it she felled enemy after enemy, Red Templar and Venatori alike. Siobahn laughed with wild abandon as she watched her brethren maim their enemies with their axes, arrows and bare hands. The sounds of their screams was enough to bring her to ecstasy.

The ground shook as a colossal abomination strutted on to the battlefield. A Templar monstrosity the size of giant. The mutation from the red lyrium was so severe that it was no part of his whole being. One of its arms was incased entirely in a cast of red lyrium shaped like a scythe that mowed down a dozen brave Avvar like they were grass. The Avvar tribesman threw their spears and shot their arrows at the Behemoth, but they merely bounced off it's lyrium-grafted body. The beast roared victoriously as continued to cut down more of the hardy mountain men. Siobahn would show this creature not to underestimate her kin.

Casting her staff aside, Siobahn ran full force at the Behemoth. The creature noticed that buxom shaman running at her and swung his scythe-arm at her, to cut her down like the rest of her kind. Right before the creature's boulder sized limb could harm her, Siobahn morphed into her signature form of a giant golden eagle form and flew at the Behemoths head. Her talon's tore at his face and gouged his eyes, making his roar in agony. He blindly swung his weapon at the skinchanger, but she flew high above his reach and dove back down. Mere seconds before she landed back on the Behemoth's head, she morphed again into the form of Red Lion, the most feared animal in all the Frostbacks. Siobahn pounced on her gargantuan opponent with such force, she drove him backwards on to the ground. With her opponent on his back, Siobahn mauled the repulsive creature's head with her claws, knocking the red lyrium of his skin until all that was left was the flayed, misshapen skull of what used to be a man.

Siobahn resumed her human form and grabbed her staff. It wasn't over yet, she hoped. She hadn't had this much fun since the Battle of Denerim. The Lady's messenger's would feast happily tonight, and Korth would welcome them back to the Frostbacks with honor. But first, they must kill as many of these Red Templars as they could. And when this was over, Siobahn was going to have to find the lovely Scout Harding so that could celebrate their victory properly.

**~XoXoXo~**

Cullen held the line with his best men at the very edge of the temple. He had just barely missed Corypheus making his way towards the temple, with Samson clinging to his side. Everything inside Cullen screamed at him to go after them, but he knew he couldn't. That wasn't his battle to fight. No, he had to be out here with his men, and make sure the Inquisitor could get into that temple.

No more of the Venatori or the treacherous Red Templars would make it past this point. It had been a while since he had fought in open combat, and it was the first time he had ever gone into battle without lyrium to enhance his abilities, but this is what he had been preparing for all this time. The Inquisitor helped him find the strength he didn't think he possessed, reminded him what duty truly was. And for the first time in his life, Cullen was sure, without a shadow of doubt, what he was fighting for. He failed in the Kinloch Hold, he failed in Kirkwall. He would not fail here.

Cullen engaged three foes. Two Venatori mages and on Templar knight. Without lyrium, Cullen could no longer nullify magic; he was going to have to do this the old fashioned way. Cullen attacked the first mage to prevent him from summoning any spells. He cut the mage's staff in two, followed by a forehand swing that chopped the mage's head off. The Red Templar attacked his former brother with rabid savagery, but Cullen quickly discovered that the red lyrium had robbed the man of more than just his sanity. His opponent's strikes were wild, undisciplined, completely lacking in the skill they were taught as recruits. The Red Templar was so enraged, he didn't even pay attention to his surroundings, but Cullen did.

The remaining mage shot a lightning bolt at Cullen while he was fighting the Red Templar. Cullen quickly parried his opponent's sword away and grabbed him by the neck, using him as a shield against the mage's attack, and the lightning bolt hit the wrong target right in the head, killing him. Before the other mage could use another spell, Cullen reached his belt and grabbed the dagger he kept strapped there and threw it right between one of the mage's eyes with practiced speed and accuracy. The mage fell down dead.

"Shield wall, form!" The Commander ordered as rejoined his squad. His men locked their shields into a wall of impenetrable steel and diehard determination, unwilling to give up any ground. Cullen felt his spirit rise when he saw the Inquisitor and his followers making their way towards them. Soon this would be over. "Inquisitor! Corypheus and Samson just entered the temple. You can still make it!"

"Hold the line, Commander!" Rajmael ordered.

"We will not fail you!" Cullen promised. "Andraste be with you, Inquisitor." The Commander stood amongst his men, holding the line. No one else would make it beyond this point. The Red Templar formed ranks and prepared to force their way past the Inquisition's forces. Red Templars, Grey Wardens, and Venatori all stood ready to engage their hated rivals, the men and women who dared to defy the Elder One at every turn.

Cullen and his men stood ready. He trained these men and women himself, he knew their strength, their resolve. This place would not become their grave. Today, they weren't going to die for the Inquisition, they were going to _kill_ for it.

A loud rumbling came crashing through the forest. Like something was stampeding through the forest and uprooting the trees. It's force was so resounding that it was trembling the creek they stood in. What was that?

A great war spit the air as the Avvar broke through the tree line with Siobahn leading their savage assault. "Thabhairt ne trocaire, mo braithre!"

With the Avvar flanking the enemy from behind, Cullen and his men no longer then enemy's equal, but their executioners. "Inquisition...Forward charge!"

Without their General or the Elder One to give them orders, all the enemy could do was rely on their instincts. Some fought savagely, while others fled. Everyone in the Inquisition's ranks had been waiting for this day. The day they would finally strike at Corypheus for all the crime he committed against them. There was no fear, no quarter, and no mercy.

Rajmael could hear the fighting of all the men and women who served the Inquisition as they held off the brunt of Corypheus' forces. He could not fail here, could not let their blood and sacrifices be in vain. This would be the final push against the Elder One. This battle would be another definitive moment in the history of the Dragon Age.

**Language Codex:**

**Eluvian:** Elven, literally translates as _"Mirror"._

**Venaves! Ir'a Vhenallin:** Elven, roughly translates as _"Stop! We are friends of the people."_

**Na'din shemlen:** Elven, roughly translates as _"Kill the quick-children."_

**Lethalin, quenethra?:** Elven, roughly translates as _"Why, my friend?"_

**Mythal Enaste:** Elven, translates as _"Mythal's Favor."_

**Ashante kaffas:** Tevinter expression, literally translates as _"You shit on my tongue."_

**Thabhairt ne trocaire, mo braithre!:** Northern Avvar, roughly translates as _"Give no mercy, my brothers!"_

**Author's Note:**

**Hello, everybody! It's been over two months since my last update, and it's good to be back!**

**I've finally found some time away from my studies and get back to typing.**

**Thank you all for your patience, it will be rewarded.**

**Next Friday, that's April 1st, I will be posting my next chapter.**

**And that's no April Fool's Joke.**

**Please review and give me your thoughts.**

**Happy Easter, Everybody!**


	34. The Place Where Gods Walked

**The Place Where Gods Walked**

Rajmael and all who followed him pushed through the final barrier, and saw the pathway into the temple. Rajmael's breath was almost stolen away by the magnificent sight of the Temple of Mythal. A glorious testament to all that the elves were, all that they could be again.

It was nothing like the Bastion of Elgar'nan that Nethras had discovered; carved into a mountain, bleak and foreboding in its grim ambience. No, the Temple of Mythal was not merely built atop of an expansive lake, but was erected within it. A great citadel of primeval glory pointed like a lance pointed straight toward the heavens. The lake circled around the whole of the ancient marvel, turning into waterfalls on all sides. It was as though the lake had tried to swallow the temple within it's emerald depths, but the power of Mythal refused to be consumed, and was instead hidden but the unforgiving beauty and secrecy of the Arbor Wilds.

Rajmael's awe was quickly shattered by the sounds of battle and death just up ahead. They ran to the end of the entry way, the path totally littered with the bodies of dead Templars. The Inquisitor and the others crouched down behind a railway and tried to see what was going on just below them. They looked down to see more of the strange elves holding their ground at the front of a bridge way against a large number of Red Templars and Grey Wardens. A hooded mage stood strong between two giant dragon statues while archers held their positions.

Samson stood amongst his underlings, an arrogant smile on his face as he stared down the temple's guardians.

"Na milana sel Vilnalas!" One of the guardians growled at the vile knight.

"Ha! They still think to fight us, Master." Samson chuckled vilely.

Corypheus emerged from out of the darkness, his very presence exuding a vile miasma as he strode towards the elves who dared stand in his path. Sweet Sylaise, Rajmael almost forgotten how tall and hideous he actually was.

"They are but remnants, shadows of a failed race from a forgotten time." Corypheus spoke, his voice echoed with malice. "They will not keep us from the Well of Sorrows."

"The Well of Sorrows?" Rajmael whispered looking to Morrigan. The witch gave him an unknowing shrug.

Corypheus moved towards the elven mage with murder in his stride. The guardian held his ground. The two dragon statues that guarded the bridge came to life as ancient glyphs lit up on their stone bodies. Rajmael could feel the powerful destructive energy emanating from the statues and realized that they were some sort of ancient trap meant to deal with intruders. Corypheus merely smiled at the elves' attempt to bar his entry.

"Be honored, vermin. You witness death at the hands of a new god." Corypheus boasted threateningly.

The taint-ridden madman stepped closer to the bridge, the instant he crossed the threshold, lightning and burning white fire shot from the eyes of the dragon statues that guarded the path. Despite the immense power of the attack, Corypheus kept walking through the streams of magic as though he had merely been caught in the rain, and grabbed the elven mage by the head. The mage screamed horrifically in Corypheus' claws. The beams of energy from dragons' eyes intensified. Corypheus stood silently as his face melted from his skull, the dragons were using so much energy that they finally exploded, taking the strange elves with him. Fire, stone, flesh and magic flew everywhere.

A crater of black smoke and shattered stone with lingering stench of burnt flesh was left behind. All that was left of Corypheus was a ruined, smoking corpse with blackened bones surrounded by a puddle of melted flesh, with several Grey Warden laying next to him. Despite the loss of their leader, Samsom lead his whole company of Red Templars across the bridge and into the temple.

"Ha! Guess Coryph-anus wasn't so bad after all." Sera laughed.

"Damn. I was hoping we could be the ones to kill that asshole." Iron Bull complained.

"Don't celebrate just yet, guys. This isn't the first time I've seen Corypheus die." Varric warned.

Rajmael and his companions carefully made their way down to the bridge. Rajmael was left confused. Why? Why would Corypheus walk into such an obvious trap that could kill him? Why would Samson and his men keep pressing forward if they just witnessed the death of their leader? Was Corypheus truly capable of commanding such loyalty?

The Inquisitor looked to the other side of the bridge and saw Samson getting the last of his men inside the temple. The leader of the Red Templars looked back to his nemesis and flashed the Inquisitor an arrogant grin that made that thing in the back of Rajmael's mind scream for murder. What the fuck was Samson smiling at?

A stomch-churning groan erupted from the mouth of one of the Grey Wardens. How did he survive? He began retching horribly, vomiting out a vile black ichor. What was wrong with him? Everyone looked on in horror as the man's body began to reshape itself into a form they believed impossible. Corypheus was taking over the man's body like an Abomination from the Fade.

"It cannot be!" Morrigan tried to deny, but if only saying it would make it true.

"Across the bridge! Now!" Rajmael ordered. They all ran as fast as their legs could carry them as Corypheus stood in his new body, completely reborn. His burning red eyes watched hatefully as the Herald made his way to the temple. An all too familiar roar split the air and shadow darkened the canopy as Corypheus corrupted dragon flew over head. Rajmael could feel the gale from its wings baring down on them. They ran through the doors, and closed just before the beast's fire came down on them, Rajmael felt the heat of it on his skin.

**~XoXoXo~**

The door magically sealed itself and barred the dragon and its master from entering. The beast roared in fiery anger and defeat on the other side. This should at least slow Corypheys down enough and give them the time they needed to find...whatever it was the Corpheus is truly after. They ran from the entrance and didn't stop until they were sure they were far enough from that damned dragon, and then they took a moment to gather their surroundings and catch their breath.

"Ah, at last. Mythal's sanctum. Let us proceed before Corypheus interferes." Morrigan bade.

"You said he was here for an eluvian, Morrigan, but Corypheus mentioned a 'Well of Sorrows'." Cassandra reminded, very agitated. "Which is it?"

"I am...uncertain of what he meant." Morrigan shrugged. For once, it seemed she didn't have an answer for everything.

"Unsure? You mean you have no idea what Corypheus is after. For all we know there is no eluvian here at all!" Rajmael criticized.

"Fine! I admit it, I was wrong. Does that please you?" Morrigan conceded with equal agitation.

"No, it doesn't fucking please me, you moron! Maybe you didn't hear what Cullen said back in the War Room, but there is no room for failure or mistakes in this campaign!"

Vivienne smiled to herself at the sight of the apostate being berated for her obvious lack of knowledge. She always knew this witch was more trouble than she was worth.

"And do you think being angry right now is the best course of action? You of all people know that there are no certainties, especially where Corpheus and ancient powers are concerned." Morrigan reminded. "Whatever this Well of Sorrows is, Corypheus wants it, and thus you must keep it from his grasp."

Rajmael grunted in anger, but proceeded to move on. "So be it. Let's find this Well of Sorrows before Corypheus and his people do."

"What I want to know is how Corypheus survived. We watched him die!" Cassandra shouted.

"It isn't the first time I've seen that guy killed, Seeker." Varric recalled. "I saw Hawke kill the bastard then had his body burned till there was nothing left but ashes. And he still came back to haunt us."

"It would seem his life force passes on to any Blighted creature, darkspawn or Grey Warden." Morrigan rationalized.

"Oh. So that's how he managed to survive Hawke and Bianca." Varric didn't know too much about magic or darkspawn, but that made a whole lot of sense. "But knowing doesn't make me feel any better."

"That creature is even more sickening and vile than I realized." Blackwall said with disgust on his face. "Using Wardens as...as suits to wear then discard when there's a scratch in them. I'd rather take my own life than let that happen."

"'Tis strange. Archdemons possess a similar ability, yet Grey Wardens are able to successfully slay them." Morrigan continued. "But Corypheus they locked away. Perhaps they knew he could do this...but not how."

Dorian shook his head frustration. "The Magisterium has entire vaults with documents and studies about darkspawn. Studies that only the Archon and the Magisters are allowed to view. I wouldn't doubt if they knew something about Corypheus but hid it away for convenience's sake. The bastards."

Rajmael tried to wrap his mind around this new reality. Even if they got to this Well of Sorrows, how could they defeat an enemy incapable of dying? He had truly superseded the Old Gods of Tevinter. They could kill him again and again, but he would merely resurrect and further prove to his followers that he is in fact a god. All their victories so far have merely slowed him down. Corypheys could outlive all of them and remain a threat to all of Thedas. If Thedas was to be saved, they must find a way to kill an immortal before he became a god.

"Come. Let's have a look around. Perhaps we can find a clue as to where this Well of Sorrows is." Morrigan advised.

"Most of us are not scholars, Morrigan. What are we looking for?" Cassandra asked.

"Anything. Anything that might give us a clue." Rajmael answered. He took a moment to take in the beauty of this place. It was nothing like the ruins of the fallen Dalish Kingdom. Even as a ruin, invaded and assaulted, it was still beautiful. The Arbor Wilds was slowly creeping into this place with its ivy and moss trying to blanket it with wilderness, but it did little to hide the majesty of this temple.

At the very entrance to the hall stood a magnificently carved statue of a strange woman carved entirely out of flawless white stone. They had seen many such statues in the Wilds on their way here, but this one was the most masterfully crafted. She had graceful feminine features, yet she had draconic wings in place of arms, opened wide to greet her visitors, and her head was in almost in the shape of a dragon yet retained the features of an ethereal elven woman. The depiction was alien yet beautiful.

"Wow. Whose this supposed to be?" Iron Bull asked rather impressed.

"Quite the feat of masonry." Dorian complimented.

"It is a depiction of Mythal, the protector." Solas answered solemnly.

Rajmael knelt before the statue of the mother goddess with respect and reverence. He grabbed one of the seeds in his coat and magically grew it into a beautiful blue rose that he only presented to his gods. Then he cut his hand and bestowed his own blood at Mythal's feet.

"Is now truly the time for that, Inquisitor?" Morrigan asked.

"This is Mythal's temple. Her last, and perhaps even her first one. Honor to the gods cannot be ignored." Rajmael answered, never taking his eyes from the statue. "What do you know of Mythal, Morrigan?"

"To the elves, she is the goddess of justice. Your people invoke her name when they seek recompense for a crime. But I am not so certain." Morrigan answered honestly. "What is a god but a being of immense power. The dread Old Gods were nothing more than dragons, after all. They rise as Archdemons, and they die. Perhaps Mythal was merely a powerful elf, a ruler amongst her kind. History is never candid with the facts."

"You admit to lack of knowledge, yet dismiss her so readily, Lady Morrigan?" Solas questioned skeptically.

"I do not _dismiss_ her, I simply question her supposed divinity." Morrigan groaned. "Truth be told, I'm not sure Mythal was even a single person. The accounts are...varied. In most stories, Mythal rights wrongs while offering motherly kindness. 'Let fly your to Mythal, deliverer of justice, protector of sun and earth alike'."

"I am aware of her titles." Rajmael assured.

"Others paint her as dark, vengeful. Pray to Mythal and she would smite your enemies, leaving them in agony."

"More Dalish tales, I assume?" Solas asked rhetorically.

"If you have something to say, Solas, then say it now." Rajmael snorted in annoyance at Solas demeaning tone towards his people.

"The oldest accounts say that Mythal was both of these and neither. She was the Mother, protective and fierce." Solas answered staunchly. "And that is all I will say. This is not the place to dredge up old tales."

"Whatever the accounts, the tale ends the same. She was banished to the Beyond after she and her brethren were deceived by the Dread Wolf, Fen'heral." Morrigan finished.

"I am aware of my own people's tales, Morrigan."

"Then let us keep going. We may even find more concrete answers"

Rajmael could feel the sanctity of this place, the ancient powers that lingered here, and he could not help but be in awe and reverence of it. Here was everything that Rajmael had devoted his life to discovering. He could not help but be aware of a strange feeling. Like he could feel the lingering presence of some great power that resided here, watching him. This must be how humans feel when they walk the Grand Cathedral in Val Royeaux. After all this time, all these centuries since the fall of their empire, the elves had a sacred place of their own that was not defiled by human hands. Until today, that is.

"I know a Dalish girl who would give her right arm to be here right now. I wish Daisy could be here to see this." Varric sighed.

"You guys saw those elves, right? Never seen the likes of them anywhere." Iron Bull said with respect to those opponents they found in the forest.

"They're certainly new to me. But they seem...odd." Dorian added.

"All elfy-elves are weird to me, so I didn't notice." Sera disregarded callously.

"It seems that there are two possibilities concerning this temple's guardians." Morrigan affirmed. "One: these are a group of Dalish elves separated from the rest of your brethren. Cultist, fanatic in their desire to keep humans away from their home. Two: these elves are descended from the ancients, having resided here since before the fall of Arlathan."

Rajmael stopped dead in his tracks at that last sentence. A sense of desperate hope stirred deep within his spirit. "Could that be true? If there is proof, then their knowledge could rewrite history. My people could learn so much from them."

"'Tis thrilling, no? To discover an era long thought destroyed has possibly thrived in the shadows." Morrigan said with subtle excitement. "We may, however, find these ancient elves reluctant to want to share their long-kept secrets."

"I would advise caution. Some long-kept secrets carry dark truths that some may not wish discovered." The elven apostate warned as he looked on at this ancient temple of worship with respect and loss in his eyes.

**~XoXoXo~**

They came upon a ruined antechamber. The Arbor Wilds was already taking this place over. Giant roots were springing from the floor and walls, tearing up the ancient stone and structure of the chamber. But worst of all were the dead Templars and elves that littered the place. Turning this ancient hall into a tomb. That thing in the back of Rajmael's mind stirred at the sight of Templars once again bringing ruin and destroying all that he loved and held sacred.

"Ah. I see that the Red Templars have already encountered the temples guardians." Morrigan observed.

A nearby wall had been torn down and left as a smoldering pile of ruble, preventing them from using it as an exit.

"It looks like they couldn't find a way out, so they blew that wall apart then sealed it behind them with explosives." Cassandra pointed out. "We need to find another way out."

"Look at all these pants just waiting to be picked." Sera giggled with anticipation of a lecherous old man at the sight of all the dead bodies.

"Yes. Just pillage the dead. Not at all distasteful." The witch said with obvious distaste in her mouth.

"What? It's not they're gonna miss 'em." Sera reasoned, reaching for the body of a slain temple guardian. A bolt of lightning shot past Sera's nose before her sticky fingers could even touch the dead elf, making the Red Jenny leap back with a yelp.

"You try that again Sera, and the next bolt flies right up your nose!" Rajmael growled viciously, his smoking fingers pointed at her.

Sera took several steps back with a vexed look on her face. "Alright! Jeez! What's crawled up your arse?"

"You, Sera, dear. What else could it be." Vivienne answered haughtily. "Some of us here actually have _civilized_ standards."

Cole looked at the elves with sadness beneath his hat. "This place is everything they knew, their whole world. All that is left of it. They won't let it be taken from them."

"They're fighting to protect their home. That demands respect." Iron Bull added.

"If you're all done over there, maybe you should come over here." Dorian called at the top of a nearby set of stairs before a massive door leading out of the room. The immense door was large enough to let a giant pass through it. Its surface was designed with mosaic tiles that depicted a dragon gazing down on the floor below. "It seems to have been magically sealed to keep intruders out, hence the Templars making a doorway of their own."

Rajmael noticed that the image of the dragon was staring at the middle of the chamber where a small set of steps led to large ruined altar. The altar was surrounded by giant intricately designed blue tiles and the two statues atop the stone pillars of the altar depicted a pair stone dragons, weathered and broken from the toll of years, staring at each other. This must have something to do with opening that door.

Morrigan noticed it, too. The Dalish elf and Chasind witch approached the altar, and the instant they stepped foot on the tiles, they came to life with a warm blue light and pleasant ringing melody.

"It seems the temples ancient magicks are still strong after all these centuries." Morrigan said, impressed. The two of them noticed a tablet on the altar written in a language very few had ever seen.

"This is elven. I can read the words, but not all of them." Some of the ancient glyphs were worn down to nothing after many centuries. It took all the years of late night studying and dedication as Keeper Deshana's First for Rajmael to read what was there. "Atish'all Vir Abelas'an. Enter the Path of The Well of Souls."

"Masterfully translated, Inquisitor." Solas complimented honestly.

"There is something else here about knowledge." Morrigan pointed to a set of worn out runes on the tablet. "Respectful, or pure. Shinven, shivennen...'Tis all I can make out. That is mentions the Well is a good omen."

Rajmael noticed ancient candles and offering bowls on the altar. "This place was the entryway into the temple. Perhaps this is where visitors and disciples would pay their respects to the All-Mother."

"Yes, that would make perfect sense." Morrigan agreed. "Supplicants to Mythal would have first paid obeisance here. Following their path may aid entry."

"Not much of a lock if all you have to do is step on it." Iron bull scoffed.

Morrigan rolled her eyes in annoyance. "'Tis a ritual, not a barred door. There is more here than just earthly treasure."

Rajmael's eyebrow quirked skeptically. "You would perform a ritual to honor an elven god, Morrigan? Somehow, I have my doubts."

"Don't look that far into the matter, Inquisitor." Morrigan discarded. "To the ancient elves, these rituals were as common and customary to them as a bow or a handshake is to you or I."

"I find the idea of you curtsying to anyone just as doubtful, too." Rajmael scoffed.

"Why the empress ever tolerated her is a mystery for the ages." Vivienne commented with veiled disgust in her voice.

The witch chuckled mockingly. "Ah, Madame Vivienne, it would seem those barbs on your tongue are growing more blunt by the minute. Does this place vex your small mind, or is it I?"

"You unnerve no more than a rat scurrying across the carpet. Making me think new accommodations are required. And an exterminator." Madame de Fer shot back.

"Oh! I almost felt that. Well done." Morrigan laughed before turning her attention back to the Inquisitor. "I can be cordial when I wish to be, as I demonstrated in Celene's court." Morrigan reminded. "It does no one any good to offend the one you seek favor from. Especially in ancient rituals that are built on such customs, like this one."

"Well, let's see if this curtsy gets us the response we're looking for." Rajmael stepped on the next tile and it too came to life with it light and song. Rajmael didn't know if it was the magic of the altar or his own, but he could feel something guiding his steps on to each tile until he came full circle around it. When he completed the steps, the two dragon statues' eyes and the whole altar lit up, and they heard the massive stone door creak open for them. The ancient ritual worked.

**~XoXoXo~**

All of them walked through the door and into the central chamber on the other side. The instant they entered, Rajmael's blood boiled like hot oil at the sight of the man standing on the upper floor of the chamber. Samson, accompanied by many of his followers.

The General of the Elder One's army blew a hole in the floor, a shortcut to the path he was seeking. He looked down at the Inquisitor with a taunting look of arrogance that made that thing in the back of Rajmael's mind scream for blood.

"Hold them off! The rest of us are pressing forward." Samson ordered.

The bastard general jumped down the hole he made, accompanied by most of his men, while the rest stayed behind to fight off their enemies. They weren't going to last very long, The Inquisitor was going to make sure of that.

Rajmael held both swords in his hands, his Shimmering Aura burning brightly, and that thing in the back of his mind demanded blood. He would oblige it. The archers shot a volley at the Inquisitor, he struck them all with both his swords and redirected them back to their owners, nailing them in all the vital areas. The Red Templar Knights, Horrors and Defenders all charged down at them, and Rajmael engaged them with all the anger he had for these sacrilegious invaders who spat on the legacy of his people.

Rajmael's magic increased his speed many times over, moving like a flash of white from one enemy to the next. The Templars could not touch the Arcane Warrior, their weapons slipped past him, through him, or didn't even get the chance to move at all. Evanura and Enasalin sang with a hymn of death as their wielder cleaved the Templars bodies, impaled their hearts and knocked off their heads. Samson's feeble attempt to slow the Inquisitor down was in vain. All he did was make them easier targets.

With the Red Templars here dead, and their bodies parts lying all over the place, Rajmael and his company ran to the path in the ground Samson made for himself.

"Hold a moment!" Morrigan bade, getting between them and the exit. "While Samson and his men rush ahead, this way leads to our true destination. We should take the petitioners path as before." Morrigan pointed to yet another sealed door with two dragon statues facing each other.

"Can you not hear the battle that rages outside this temple, Morrigan?!" Cassandra demanded in that angry way of her. "We must stop Samson now!"

"Our men are fighting for us right now. We do not have time for sight-seeing." Blackwall growled.

"And the longer we play around with these elven games, the more of our people die." Iron Bull grunted. "There's a hole right there. Jump in it!"

Sera nodded fervently. "Yeah. We've got people, real people, getting hurt. No time to be playing with this stupid elfy crap and their demon stuff."

Solas shook his head in disagreement. "In this case, I must agree with the witch. This place is ancient sacred ground, and deserves our respect."

"No! No more stupid elfy-demon-magic crap while people are dying. Let's go now!" Sera demanded.

"We don't know what we'll run into if we just bulrush into this temple haphazardly. Maybe it'd be better to play by this place's rules. Ancient magic like this isn't so easily defied." Dorian reasoned.

"Got to go with Sparkler on this one. Just running into something ancient and magical that we know nothing of has led to some bad mistakes in the past." Varric agreed.

"You see the urgency. We _cannot_ find the Well unprepared." Morrigan urged lividly.

Rajmael glared at Morrigan with suspicion in his eyes. "You seem very, _very_ eager to want to reach that Well, Morrigan."

"Is that not what we both want?" Morrigan balked back.

"I don't know! _Is_ it?!"

Morrigan sighed in defeat and beckoned Rajmael to follow her. "There is...a danger to the natural order. Legends walked Thedas once. Things of might and wonder. Their passing has left us all the lesser. Corypheus wants to squander the power of the Well. _I_ would see it restored."

"Really? It sounds to me like you want the power of the Well for yourself." Rajmael dejected.

"Ah, yes. 'Tis far easier to believe me the distrustful witch full of lies and greed." Morrigan said coyly.

Rajmael scoffed at the witch's sarcasm. "It wouldn't be that far of a stretch for you, now would it, Morrigan?"

Morrigan sighed and her face became sorrowful. "Mankind blunders through the world, crushing what it does not understand: elves, dragons, magic...the list is endless. We must turn the tide or be left with nothing more than the mundane. This I know to be true."

Rajmael almost laughed at the witch. "Right. And I suppose you expect me to believe that you want to preserve the wonder of the ancients because your altruistic and giving nature would have you share this knowledge with those it truly belongs to, and not horde it away like some bauble for you to keep for yourself."

"Have I not proven my worth thus far? Have I given you any reason to distrust me? You are a Dalish elf, you of all people should know and understand my goals." Morrigan argued angrily.

"Do you think I am fool?! That I don't know enough about you to distrust you? That I didn't know who you are the day we met, Dal'en tir Asha'bellanar!?" Rajmael demanded, his anger piqued.

Morrigan was taken aback in shock. "How...how do you know that name?"

"You truly _do_ think me a fool. Every Dalish elf knows who you are! At the last gathering of the clans, Keeper Solan told every Keeper how she welcomed the daughter of Asha'bellanar into her camp in friendship. How the witch stole their most priceless piece of knowledge like a thief in the night, and didn't return it until it was of no further value to her. And you expect me to trust you with something you know nothing of?!"

"Yes! Because...because I read more in the first chamber than I let on." Morrigan revealed, trying to stay calm. "It is said that a great boon is given to anyone who uses the Well of Sorrows...but there is also a terrible price."

"You expect me to trust you when you withhold such vital information from me?" Rajmael could scarcely believe it.

"I wanted to gather more information to be absolutely sure. If I wanted to cheat you, I would have feigned ignorance this whole time." Morrigan assured. "My priority is your cause, but if the opportunity to save the Well arises, I am willing to pay the cost."

"And what, pray tell, is the price for this boon?"

"Like all ancient elven writing, it was insufferably vague." Morrigan answered. "The term I deciphered was 'Halam'shivanas'..."

"The sweet sacrifice of duty?"

"Yes. It implies the loss of something great and personal for duty's sake. Yet for those who served the temple, a worthwhile trade." Morrigan explained.

"Then you really have no fucking clue as to what you're getting yourself into Morrigan." Rajmael opposed. "You've already admitted how easily you discard Mythal, yet you're so willing to sacrifice something to her? How can you be so arrogant!?"

"What need do I have to be afraid of a sacrifice to a goddess that no longer walks this world, even if she did. And if the knowledge is here and I can protect it, what do I have to fear?" Morrigan questioned. "For all the evil that was, there was also great good. And I will fight for it, if I must."

"Do you truly believe yourself able to champion all that good in the ancient power? That you know how to discern the benevolent from the malign? Or are you just so hungry for a power you seek that you don't care what that power is capable of?" Solas berrated.

"What would you know of any of this, dreamer?" Morrigan argued. "Unlike you in your dreams, bringing nothing to anyone, I want to revive even a piece of what was lost. What could you possibly know?"

"I have seen enough to know that there were countless people like you, like Corypehus, who sought out ancient power for the mere benefit of having, and then using it for reasons they deemed necessary, and using the best of reasons to justify it. That is what I know." Solas spoke with truth and held back pain.

"And what about your son? What if this sacrifice takes you from him?" Being an adopted parent, that was Rajmael's greatest fear.

That question struck a nerve in Morrigan's cold façade. "Kieran...my son is...a strong lad. He will thrive, with or without me."

That answer rang in Rajmael's pointed ears like a bell. "You're so certain of that?"

"I am certain of precious little these days." Morrigan scoffed before turning her attention to back to Rajmael. "You must make your decision now, Inquisitor."

Rajmael didn't even need a moment to think. He knew what he needed to do. "I'll do what needs to be done, Morrigan, but not because it's what you think should be done. But because I'm honoring what I have devoted my life to." Rajmael turned to his companions, the look on his face told them how serious he was. "We perform the ritual. Whatever exists in this place, it must be honored if we are to be allowed safe passage to the Well."

"Then we should look around here and see if we can find anything that will tell us about the ritual or more about the Well." Solas recommended.

"Hey, Boss! Maybe you can find something over here." Iron Bull called from an adjacent room. While the others were waiting for the Boss to finish arguing with the hot witch, he decided to see what was nearby.

The nearby room was a lavish chamber lit with fir and perfumed with incense. Unlike the rest of the temple, this room looked perfectly preserved. All along the wall was another masterfully crafted statue of Mythal and all the other members of the elven pantheon made from varying precious stones and metals. All of them bore resemblance to the totems Rajmael made his prayers and offerings to. Rajmael wished so badly that he had time to make a proper offering to all his gods in an actual place of elven worship. Elgar'nan, Sylaise, June, Andruil, Falon'din, Ghilain'nan, and Dirthamen, Rajmael's patron god. Oddly enough, there was one of the Dread Wolf, Fen'heral standing midst the Creators, standing closest to the image of Mythal, sitting relaxed with watchful eyes.

"Why would this be here?" Morrigan questioned incredulously, looking at the statue.

"All the other Creators are present, why shouldn't he be?" Rajmael asked rhetorically.

"But this is the Dread Wolf! In elven legends, he seals the gods away in the Beyond, locking them from the world forever which caused the fall of the elven empire."

"And thus he became our god of misfortune, yes, I am aware." Rajmael agreed. "But this temple was built during the reign of the ancient empire. Perhaps he had a different meaning back then?"

"The setting of Fen'heral in Mythal's greatest sanctum is as blasphemous as painting Andraste naked in a Chantry." The Chasind Wilder continued.

"For all your supposed 'knowledge', Lady Morrigan, you can't help giving legend the weight of history." Solas reproved as if he were insulted. "The wise do not mistake one for the other."

"Pray tell, what does our elven 'expert' sense lurking behind this statue then?" Morrigan inquired agitatedly.

"None that can be found by simply staring at it!" Solas argued.

Rajmael took the time to make his offering to one of the statues. It depicted a hooded figure kneeling with two raven perched upon his shoulders and a bear at his feet.

"Who's that supposed to be, Inquisitor?" Varric inquired.

"Dirthamen, Keeper of Secrets and Knowledge. My patron god." Rajmael glided his hand over the vallaslin on his face. "And given all the secrets and knowledge we're discovering here, I'd say he deserves his tribute."

"Then that must be his twin-soul, Falon'din. Elven guide to the afterlife and keeper of funeral rites." Morrigan pointed to another statue depicting another hooded figure pointing with one hand and holding a shepherds crook in the other. At his feet was a statue of a large owl. I've heard it said that the Dalish will often speak his prayer on their deathbed or when they go on missions in which they do not expect to return."

"Yes. My Keeper taught us the prayers." Rajmael agreed.

"I highly doubt that the Keepers of any clan speak of Falon'din's vanity." Solas added with disdain.

"I suppose you have a story from some ancient dream, Solas."

"It was said that Falon'din's lust for adulation was so insatiable, he began wars to amass more worshippers. The blood of those who would not bend filled lakes as wide as oceans." Solas spoke truthfully and with contempt. "So Mythal rallied the gods, and led them to war when Falon'din's vanity began harming her people. It was almost too late. It wasn't until his own brethren bloodied him in his own temple did Falon'din finally cease."

Rajmael was stunned. He didn't want to believe that, but the way Solas told that tale compelled him to. "That...can't be right. Falon'din is supposed to be the guide of the elven dead, not the harbinger of death itself."

"As your clans spread apart, the more your tales branch out and grow." Solas responded dismally. "Never mistake them for 'true' arbiters of elven culture."

"And do not mistake us for some wide-eyed children you can just chastise and insult, Solas." Rajmael growled. "We try to preserve and teach what we rediscover. That there is so little left for us find after our empire and our kingdom was destroyed is no fault of ours."

"Sadly true..." Solas sighed. "Let us continue with our purpose here."

Rajmael noticed a mosaic on the roof of the chamber. It depicted elves in white robes receiving their vallaslin from priestly hooded figure. The petitioners then followed a certain path along the tiles around a giant statue of Mythal. They humbled themselves in the presence of the protector goddess and recited her prayers in the hopes of gaining the right to receive her blessing. Rajmael looked down at the floor below and saw the ancient path these faithful walked and the statue they presented themselves to. He knew what he needed to do and made his way down to the floor below.

"This is stupid." Sera antagonized. "Weird magic, elfy rituals, this all reeks of stupid! What about you Miss Devoted-her-whole-life-to-Chantry? You got no problem letting your boyfriend do something against everything that the Chantry says is shit?"

Cassandra sighed deeply. It was true that as a devout Andrastian, she wasn't comfortable being party to a ritual meant to appease elven gods. "I don't believe in these elven gods. But I _do_ believe in Rajmael. He has led us only to victory, and I know he won't lead us astray."

Cole looked around at the ancient petition grounds with wonder, sensing all the centuries of feeling and emotion that lingered here. "They came here seeking justice, seeking her. And she spoke back, gave them guidance and protection. Gave them justice. And then...she was gone."

Cole's words were all the motivation he needed. There was no doubt in his mind now about the sanctity of this place. Rajmael stood in front of the path where the ancient elves would walk and pray as they petitioned for grace Mythal's presence. He placed Evanura and Enasalin gently on the ground before stripping off his Keeper robe and undoing his hair. Everyone could now see the many and horrific scars he had sustained and suffered over the years.

"Not that I don't enjoy the show, but what are you doing, Inquisitor?" Dorian inquired.

"Honoring Mythal." Humbled, unarmed, and all the scars he suffered laid bare before his comrades and his goddess, Rajmael wrapped a cloth around his eyes, blinding himself, then placed his hands together like in prayer and began the ritual. Rajmael would not rely on his sight, but on the magic he was born with, his training as an Arcane Warrior to guide his footsteps as he whispered a prayer to Mythal under his breath.

Everyone watched in silence as the tiles came to life with each step Inquisitor took each step and flawlessly performed the rite of petition. With the exception of Cassandra, it was hard for many of them to see Rajmael's scars again. Dorian, Cole and Morrigan had never seen his scars, and how they horribly marred his body. The old but obvious burn scars he received as a child blanketed almost his entire upper body, and the scar he received from Nethras' death blow was still fresh on his chest, plus the various other wounds and blemishes that he had sustained from a life time of hardship. He must still suffer wraith pains. How could he have endured so much pain?

Despite being having blinded himself, using his training as an Arcane Warrior, Rajmael walked the path of petition flawlessly. He felt the power of the path and found himself at the feet of Mythal's image. He removed the cloth from his eyes and looked up to her with respect. "Mythal enaste."

The path lit up and rang with a luminous ambience as the eyes of Mythal came to life. A beam of energy sprang forth from the goddess' gaze, enveloping Rajmael in a halo of blue magic and raising him from the ground. A wave of shock washed over everyone. What was this ritual doing to him?

Rajmael felt the magic of the temple saturate his whole being. Images of this ancient place flashed across his eyes as foreign images as familiar as memories. Elves entering the temple while its guardians watched with vigilance. Priests and warriors alike all receiving their vallaslin and declaring their loyalty to Mythal in a chorus of prayers and voices that shamed even the Grand Cathedral. A memory of bare-faced priests, all from different lifetimes, walking in solemnity towards the ultimate treasure in this place; the Well of Sorrow. Rajmael could almost touch it. Then he felt a powerful presence, like someone was watching him, and the whole temple bowed to her will..."

The magic died, and Rajmael dropped to the ground, gasping, not sure if anything he saw was real. The shock on his face was almost foreign to him.

Cassandra rushed over to her lover with fear grasping her heart. "Rajmael! What's wrong?!"

"Told you this ritual was a stupid idea." Sera criticized.

"You gonna live, Inquisitor?" Varric asked.

"I...I don't know. I saw...I don't know what I saw." Rajmael gasped, trying to get back on his feet. "It was like I could see the memories of this place, not as a ruin, but an actual temple. It was like I could almost feel Mythal walking these halls."

"You proved yourself worthy. This temple gave you a glimpse of all that came before you, and granted you entry." Solas explained calmly.

"But that's not all. I feel...different. Renewed, better. As if everything I suffered in the past twenty years was taken off of me. Like an ages old wound is finally cured." Rajmael tried to explain and make sense of it.

"Inquisitor, look!" Blackwall pointed to the elf, and everyone was shocked into utter silence.

Rajmael looked at himself, and his bewilderment far outstripping his comrades'. All the scars he possessed began to fade from his body, like water dissolving into mist. The burn scars he suffered as a boy, the sword wounds he endured while training, even the still fresh scar he received from Nethras began to evaporate from his body like water from stone. His body felt revitalized, and his magic stronger. He was completely healed.

"Sweet Andraste..." Cassandra gasped with awe. She tried to hide it, but it was obvious she was immedietly smitten by the sight of Rajmael's strong, now flawless skin. She tried to stay focused, but some rather racy thoughts began run through her mind as her eyes marveled him like gold.

"I...what was that?" Rajmael questioned in disbelief.

"The temple found you worthy of entrance and granted you a blessing." Solas answered with a hint of pride in his voice. He looked over and pointed to the now open doorway. "The way is now open, and you have the strength to keep going."

Rajmael picked up his gear, his spirit and strength renewed. "Then let's get going. I won't let this go to waste."

**~XoXoXo~**

They passed through the once sealed door and found themselves entering another antechamber, but it wasn't what they were expecting. The whole room was sealed off, no other passages or exits except the one they came through. Except for a tall balcony that stood high over the room, the place was completely vacant. What was the point of sealing this place.

Morrigan looked the room with confusion, her eyes scanning for anything. "'Tis strange. Why seal this place? What was this room used for?"

Rajmael's ears twitched and he sensed something. "This...was the reception area."

"How do you know?"

"...Because here's the welcoming committee."

A multitude of elven guardians materialized out of thin air throughout the whole chamber, completely surrounding the intruder. Rajmael and his comrades each had at least four arrows pointing at their heads.

"Venavis." A tall hooded elven figure ordered from the top of the balcony over the room. His armor and uniform was different from the others, a distinction of rank. He stood with authority and had a deathly intensity in his eyes, and like the rest of his ilk, he bore the mark of Mythal on his face. His intense eyes observed the Inquisitor with a strange curiosity. "You...are not like the others. You bare the features of those who call themselves elvhen. You wield the arms and training of the Dirth'ena Enasalin. And you bare the mark of magic that is...familiar."

Rajmael looked at the Anchor on his hand. Did these elves understand this kind of magic?

"How has this come to pass? What is your connection to those who have disturbed our slumber?"

The Inquisitor stepped forward and addressed the elven leader with respect. "They are my enemies, as well as yours."

"I am called Abelas. We are Sentinels, tasked with standing against those who would trespass against sacred ground." The elven leader waved his hand over his facial tattoos almost reverently. "We wake only to fight, to preserve this place. Our numbers diminish with each invasion. I know what you seek. Like all who have come before you, you wish to drink from the Vir'Abelesan."

"The place of the Way of Sorrows. He speaks of the Well!" Morrigan whispered.

"It is not for _you_. It is not for _any_ of you." Abelas stated sternly, obviously hearing Morrigan's voice.

"Solas, perhaps he'll listen to you?" Rajmael pleaded.

"What shall I say, Inquisitor? Shall I persuade him from a millennia of servitude by virtue of our shared blood? He clings to all that is left of his world, because he lacks the power to restore it." There was a hint of sadness in the elven apostates voice.

"What is the Well? Why do you protect it so passionately?" Rajmael finally asked.

"It is a path. One walked only by those who have toiled in Mythal's favor. More than that, you need not know."

"He speaks of priests perhaps?" Morrigan suggested.

Right now, the Well was not the closest thing to Rajmael's thoughts. His mind was a torrent of questions. So many things he wanted to know from his people's predecessors. "Are you...are you truly elves from the time of Arlathan? Before the Tevinter Imperium destroyed the empire?"

"The shemlen never invaded Arlathan, they never possessed the strength." The ancient elf answered coldly. "We elvhen warred amongst ourselves. By the time the doors of this temple closed, our time was over."

"Wait, what? Are you saying there was no war against the elves?" Dorian stepped in, this went against everything he was taught to know, what everyone was taught to know.

"The 'war' of vultures feasting on a corpse." Abelas scoffed. "You shemlen wouldn't know true history. Your knowledge is as short as the pool of your years."

The elves were destroyed because they warred on each other? No, that couldn't be true. Yet, Rajmael knew Abelas was telling the truth. What was the point of lying about such a thing? And why shouldn't it be true? Rajmael himself killed other elves just trying to reach this place. His family was betrayed to the Chantry by other elves when they were condemned to die. Hell, he even killed the brother he loved to save the people he hates. Like the humans, the dwarves, the qunari, it was probably only natural for elves to wage war on one another.

"We are all that remains of Mythal's faithful. We awaken only when called, and each time we find the world more foreign than before. It is meaningless. We endure. The Vir'Abelasan _must_ be preserved." Abelas asserted.

"If you know how much this world has changed, then you know that our people have lost everything. If you truly are all that remains of the ancients, then our people need you. We could learn so much from you!" Rajmael beseeched, begged.

"_Our_ people? The ones we see in the forest? Shadows wearing vallaslin, marks that you know nothing of? You are _not_ my people!" Abelas scoffed as though insulted.

"We wear the vallaslin to honor the gods, to honor our ancestors. Just as you do!" The Inquisitor argued.

"You wear the markings without knowing their true burden, their true purpose." Abelas denied. "It was bestowed only upon those who serve, by the ones that they served. Gods and elvhen alike. A mark to show which master they served."

Bestowed upon those that served? A mark to show who which master they served? In the deep recesses of Rajmael's soul, he felt something shatter, realizing what Abelas meant. It was like a piece of his heart was stolen, and all that was left was a void. Like when a child wakes up and learns the wonder of his youth was nothing more than a naïve lie, and all that was there was reality in all its terrible, ugly truth. The vallaslin, one of the most integral parts of Dalish identity that they wore as badge of pride...was a slave brand.

"You know nothing of what it means to be my people. And you have invaded our sanctuary as readily as the shemlen." Abelas accused.

Rajmael shook the revelation of the truth from his mind. He could not falter now. "We knew this place was sacred. We knew we didn't have the right to trespass here. Our people respected it as best as we could. And I came here to stop these invaders from defiling the memory of our people."

Abelas looked down at the Inquisitor, their elven eyes locking. "I believe you. Trespasser you are, but you have followed the rites of petition. You have shown respect to Mythal. If these others are enemies of yours, we will aid you in destroying them. When this is done, you shall be permitted to depart...and never return."

"This is our goal is it not? There is no reason to fight these Sentinels!" Solas pleaded.

"Piss on that!" Sera hissed. "We turn around, we get knives in the back. That's exactly the kind of thing these pricks will do!"

"I disagree." Cassandra voiced. "If they wish to ally, why should we turn them away?"

"They are merely performing their duty, holding their post. We shouldn't have to kill them for that." Blackwall urged.

"They're willing to help. We don't need to fight them if they want to help." Cole whispered.

"Consider carefully, Inquisitor." Morrigan cautioned. "You must stop Corypheus, yes, but you may also need the Well for your own."

The choice was easy. Despite what Abelas may think, they were both still elves, and Rajmael's loyalty was always to his people. "We accept your offer."

"You will be guided to those you seek." Abelas obliged solemnly. He turned his back and started walking back into the temple. "As for the Vir'Abelasan...it will not be despoiled, even if I must destroy it myself."

_**"NO!"** _Morrigan shouted in outraged horror. She took the form of a raven and flew after Abelas.

"Morrigan!...Bitch." Rajmael couldn't believe she would just take off like that. How could Aedan Cousland love such wild card? The other Sentinels disappeared in puffs of smoke to go battle the Red Templars. The western wall of the room parted open, and an elven woman carrying a staff and a giant book stood waiting for them.

"This must be our guide." Solas surmised.

"Mythal'enaste." The woman greeted grimly.

"That's good, since that vile apostate took off on her own. Foolish woman." Vivienne scorned.

"She seeks to protect the Well." Solas said worriedly.

"She turned into a bird." Cole whispered.

"Man, a woman turning into a bird is the closest thing I've seen to normal all day." Iron Bull groaned.

Dorian shook his head in disbelief. "Did you hear what he said? He said the elves destroyed each other. Before my countrymen invaded! This...it changes everything."

"In any event, we need to reach the Well before Morrigan or Samson does." said Cassandra.

"Penshra! Ghilas vellathan!" The Sentinel ordered.

"I think she would prefer it if we star close." Solas informed.

"Well, then maybe she should try using real words." Sera criticized. "Hey! You! Can you speak words? Wo-ords..."

"I hardly think you're one to judge anyone when it comes to the use of proper language, Little Sera." Vivienne mocked.

"Shut it, Vivvy!"

"All of you shut up! We need to focus." Rajmael ordered. He was trying his damndest to focus on the mission and not these truths he had learned. The fact that the elves destroyed themselves, the fact that the vallaslin was in truth a way to brand elven slaves. Solas was right about what he said earlier, some long forgotten secrets carried dark truths that some may not wish to know.

**~XoXoXo~**

The Sentinel guide led them through a secret passage of halls and chambers that looked as though they had been untouched for all these centuries. Mosaics of the Creators and statues Mythal flawlessly preserved along with mounds of treasure and ancient pieces of art were stored here. It was as if they stepped into a part of the temple that remained untouched by time.

Iron Bull's single eye marveled at the sight of the treasure that was just left laying here like a gift. The horned mercenary was almost drooling. "Do you guys have any idea how much this stuff is worth?"

"Bull?" Solas warned.

"I'm just saying!"

Sera made sure to keep her sticky fingers to herself. She knew the Inquisitor was watching her.

"The entire temple must have been like this once." Cassandra observed with mixed wonder and confusion. "How could the ancient elves put so much devotion into such...nonsense?"

"Because, Cassandra, our gods once walked these halls. And we gave them the respect they deserved." Rajmael answered in a voice so serious it almost made her believe him. Almost.

As they navigated through the maze of hallways and empty walls, Rajmael and the others heard the sounds of intense fighting as the Sentinels engaged the Red Templars. They watched through a hidden view as the ancient elves fought with all the strength to repel the invaders.

"The Sentinels, they're holding their own against the Red Templars." Rajmael observed.

"These guys give as good as they get. Maybe even better." Varric complimented.

"Tch. Good for something, I guess. If they keep it up." Sera scoffed with disrespect.

"Abelas gave us his word." Solas reminded disapprovingly.

Sera rolled her eyes with disgust. "Well, good for Dusty-Butt."

In that very instant, Rajmael felt that thing in the back of his mind screaming at him, made his sword hand twitch. It told him to take his sword and lop Sera's empty head right off her chicken neck. And Rajmael would have been a liar if he said he didn't want to listen. How dare she treat these people and this place with such disgust? Her attitude was so very human! But Rajmael abstained. He wouldn't kill her, not now anyway. He had to focus on the mission, make sure that these Sentinels' fighting wasn't in vain.

"Virma sumiel." Their guide called. They must be reaching the end. She stopped at another wall and tapped her staff on the ground, revealing another hidden passage. They could hear the sounds of battle at the end of the hall. This must be the right path.

"Ma serannas, lethallan." Rajmael thanked humbly.

"Dareth shiral." The Sentinel bade.

**~XoXoXo~**

They burst through the door and came upon the Sentinels battling their common enemy. Rajmael wasted no words, he just set to work helping his fellow elves in hacking the human invaders to pieces. Within a moment the severed limbs, blood, and shattered red lyrium of the Templars was scattered on the ground. The Sentinels formed a formation at the floor they were on, they would hold this line and give the Inquisitor the chance he needed to protect the Vir'Abelasan. No more of these vile humans would even see the Well.

Rajmael pushed through the final doors and beheld the coveted treasure that lay behind them. The Well stood high above the ground on a trunk of a mighty tree, without stairs or any other means of climbing to it, surrounded by waterfalls. Standing behind the Well was a giant statue of Mythal in all her ruined glory. A waterfall of tears cascaded from her eyes, much like the statue of her in Nehn'numinas. Their prize was just within their grasp.

"There it is. The Well of Sorrows." Rajmael smiled.

"Mythal endures." Solas sighed with awe.

"It is so cold. So loud." Cole whispered. "The voice want to be heard."

"Come to finally die, Lavellan?" Samson taunted from the floor beneath them, his men fighting the Sentinels. "Come on then! I'll bury you with the rest of the elven scum in this temple!"

Rajmael's eyes burned with seething hatred, and his knuckles turned white from gripping his swords at the sight of Samson profaning this holy place in his vile armor. "Let's _end_ this."

The Inquisitor marched down the steps with murder in his stride, and every one of his companions felt his motivations. They had seen the crimes the Red Templars had committed under Samson's orders, the countless lived ended and destroyed because of him and the heinous loyalty he had to Corypheus. After today, the Red Templars would cease to exist.

Samson's men fought off the Sentinels. Samson was no slouch with that accursed sword of his. The one Knight-Commander Meredith wielded to bring Kirkwall to heel, giving her unnatural abilities, then ultimately driving her insane. It was thanks only to Samson's specially crafted armor did the sword not effect him the same way it did it's previous owner. But Rajmael wondered, how much of Samson's ability was thanks to his own skill and not his armor. Time to find out.

The Red Templars finally finished off what was left of the Sentinels who stood against them. Impaling them with red lyrium, immonlating them with fire, even drowning them in the temple's waters. The twisted smiles they had on their faces while they did it was enough to make a sane person sick.

Samson looked at his subordinates with pride, marveling at their heinous work. "Look at you, you tough bastards! A forced march, hours of fighting, and still as fierce as dragons. The Chantry didn't know what it was throwing away."

"Samson! Ser! Watch out!" A Templar Horror warned.

The general turned around to see the Inquisitor approaching, and he looked pissed. "Inquisitor...You and those elf-things just don't know when you're beaten! You've hunted us halfway across Thedas. I should've guessed you'd follow us into this hole."

"After everything you've done, all the lives you helped destroy, there isn't anywhere I wouldn't hunt you down." Rajmael growled, recounting all of Samson's crimes. "But if you throw down your sword and get on your knees, I'll consider accepting your surrender."

"What, to enjoy the same mercy you gave my brothers and sisters? No thanks?" Samson scoffed.

"You know, I was hoping you'd say that. And I'm not going to be a merciful to you as I was with all those brothers and sisters of yours that I only killed."

A hated glare gripped Samsons eyes. "And you're going to suffer for every one of them! Corypheus chose me twice. First as his General, now as the Vessel for the Well of Sorrows. You know what's inside the Well? Wisdom. The kind that can scour a world." Samson looked up towards the Well with hungry anticipation. "I won't forget any of the Well's knowledge. And when I present it to Corypheus, he will be able to walk into the Fade unhindered, without the aide of your precious Anchor. He'll finally be unstoppable."

"You'd gladly help him destroy the world? That's insane!" Rajmael cursed. "Once he has what he needs, he'll just cast you aside as the worthless thing that you are!"

"You dare say that to my face? After you butchered my men!?" Samson snapped hatefully. "I was chosen by Corypheus to help him take his rightful place as god, to help him reshape this world!"

"_You're_ the one who led your men to their deaths, Samson. Made it necessary for me to kill them." Rajmael scorned. "You weren't chosen by Corypheus because he thought you were worthy. He chose you because you were pathetic enough to listen. Isn't that right, you lyrium-addicted gutter-trash?"

A furious scowl came over Samson's face at that insult. "You're no match for Corypheus, Lavellan. Even if you drink from the Well, you'll never master its wisdom the way he can." Samson drew his vile sword and his red lyrium crystal on his armor radiated with power. Rajmael could feel the intensity of it's loathsome aura as it increased Samson's strength to unnatural heights. "_This_ is the strength the Chantry tried to bind. But it's a new world now. With a new god." Samson held Meredith's vile sword tightly in his grip and assumed a stance of competent warrior, ready to finally put his enemy into the grave. "So, Inquisitor, how will this go?"

"It's going to go _my_ way." Rajmael smiled victoriously, grabbing the red lyrium rune his arcanist gave him. "From Dagna with love, you son of a bitch."

A beam of red energy erupted from the rune and shot Samson like a bolt of red lightning. Samson screamed and fell to his knees, the lyrium on his armor that gave him all his strength shattered to dust.

"What did you do? _What did you do?!" _Samson retched and gasped uncontrollably, his long forgotten withdrawals wracking his body. All the strength that carried him here was gone. "Lyrium..._**I NEED IT!"**_

Samson savagely attacked the Inquisitor, while his men went after the others. Rajmael evaded every wild swing of the red-lyrium blade, he could feel the intense toxicity of the blade as it barely missed him. But with Samson in a state of sudden withdrawal, without lyrium to give him the strength he needed, he was barely able to keep up with the Inquisitor. There was no discipline, strategy or thought behind Samson's attacks, only the basic instinct to kill the damned elf who robbed him his strength.

Rajmael could hardly believe it. This? This sorry, skilless wretch was the arbiter of all the pain and destruction that had been done in Corypheus' name? Without that fancy armor or red lyrium to fuel him, he was just a pathetic beggar who would lick a man's boot for lyrium. While his companions engaged Samson's subordinates, Rajmael would remind Samson of what he truly was.

"Come on, Samson, can't you do better than that? Come on, show me the strength of the Elder One's chosen! Show me why Corypheus chose a pathetic piece of shit like you to lead his armies!" Rajmael didn't even bother to activate his shimmering shield, it was so sad.

"Shut up! Everything I did was for my brothers and sisters! The people the Chantry threw away! The men and women you murdered!" Samson screamed.

"I'm sure the people of Sarhnia share your grief." Rajmael would make him feel the pain he inflicted on others. Without red lyrium to protect Samson and reinforce his strength, the enchantments of Evanura and Enasalin would cut through his armor like paper.

Samson came in with a wild swing, Rajmael evaded and punched him square in the nose, breaking it beneath his knuckles. "Is that it, Samson!? Come on! Show me how well you wield Meredith's sword!"

**"ARRGH!"** Samson roared furiously. He gathered all the strength he could muster, every ounce of will he had to try and kill the Inquisitor who stole everything from him. His master gave him reason to fight again. He gave him the ultimate weapon that Meredith was too weak to handle. And he trusted him with getting the knowledge from the Well. Too many of his brothers in arms have died for this, he could not fail now. He could not.

Samson attacks became more determined, tried to maintain technique, but he couldn't withstand the crippling effect of lyrium withdrawal after relying on it for so long. Rajmael sidestepped and dodged every feral swing, never giving the Samson even the hope of a chance. It was time to end this. Rajmael remembered every life Samson helped destroy all to serve Corypheus. All the loyal people in Haven, whose only crime was standing with the Inquisition. Lina, the little elven girl who was forced to mine red lyrium in Sarhnia, and he was forced to euthanize her because of the pain she was in. Junnarel, who was infected by red lyrium when the Red Templars tried to use it as a weapon against their clan.

"Pathetic, Samson. You should just stick to what you were good at: begging for money for lyrium, like the little nothing you are!" Rajmael activated his Shimmering Shield, phase-stepped right through Samson, and struck his enemy three times from behind, cutting his back open. Samson screamed in pain, his agony multiplied. "That was for Haven!"

Samson turned around to face the Inquisitor, but the instant he came face to face with him, Rajmael rained a continuous storm of cuts down on the Templar-General, turning his body into an open wound beneath his armor. "That was for Lina!" Unable to hold his sword anymore, Samson fell screaming to his knees. Rajmael kicked his enemy onto his back. He dropped his swords to the ground and grabbed Samson by his hair, forcing him to look him in the eyes.

"And this...this is for my _father_!" The memory of his once mighty father reduced to a shriveled husk thanks to the red lyrium poisoning fueled his every blow, breaking the bones of Samson's skull and breaking his knuckles on his face. Within moments, Samson's face was reduced to a smashed, lumpy ruin of broken bones and torn flesh. Rajmael finished Samson's face with one last punch with all his anger behind it. The sheer power of strike dislodged Samson's left eye from his skull and sent it flying through the air and splattered against a wall.

Rajmael breathed the fire out of his lungs and got off his enemy. He took a moment to take in the sight of Samson limp, broken body. Rajmael couldn't help but feel a depraved sense of satisfaction looking at the damage he inflicted on his enemy, and was half-tempted to spit in the man's now empty eye socket.

"The...Well...you bastard. You...can't take the Well from him. You...m-mustn't..." Samson begged through teary eyes and split lips before finally falling unconscious.

"He's still alive." Cassandra noticed, half impressed.

"Tough bastard. I'd be impressed if he didn't turn my stomach." Blackwall snorted.

"I can fix this easily." Iron Bull suggest, holding his axe over Samson's head.

"No, Bull." Rajmael ordered. "That lets him off easy. We'll take this...thing back to Skyhold for judgment. Now, let's get to that damned Well."

**~XoXoXo~**

Abelas made his way to the edge of the precipice, the Temple's magic recognized him and materialized a bridge of stone out of thin air for him as he ran towards the Well, followed closely behind by Morrigan still in her raven form. Rajmael and the others chased after them. They needed to stop whatever insanity was going on before it destroyed everything they came here for.

"Abelas!" Rajmael called out to the ancient elf, but the Sentinel ignored him.

Rajmael reached the top of the stairs at the threshold of the Well right behind Abelas. Morrigan landed right in front of the Sentinel, between him and the Well, ready to stop the ancient elf by enemy means necessary. Abelas looked at both the invading mages, a glint of defeat in his tired eyes. After all these centuries, he had finally failed.

"You heard his parting words, Inquisitor. The elf seeks to destroy the Well of Sorrows!" Morrigan reminded angrily.

"So the Sanctum is despoiled at last." Abelas lamented in defeat.

"You would destroy the Well yourself, given half the chance!" The witch accused.

"To keep it from your grasping fingers! You are no different than the rest of the shemlen who came before you." Abelas returned. "Better it be lost than bestowed upon the undeserving!"

"Fool! You'd let your people's legacy rot in the shadows!" Morrigan damned, ready to strike the elf down.

"Morrigan, back of right now." Rajmael finally ordered, enraged at the witch.

"You cannot honestly...!" Morrigan's arguing came to a halt in the split second that the Inquisitor's sword reached her neck.

"Do not make me say it again, Morrigan. I will _not_ hesitate to kill you if I must." Rajmael warned furiously, the edge of his sword pressing dangerously against her flesh. "Now...back off."

Morrigan took the Inquisitor's warning and slowly backed away from the Well until Rajmael was satisfied enough to lower his sword. She took a deep breath and finally calmed down. "The Well clearly offers power, Inquisitor. If that power can be turned against Corypheus, can we afford not to use it?"

Abelas shook his head pitiably and looked at the Well with pain in his eyes. "Do you even know what you ask? As each servant of Mythal reached the end of their years, they would pass their knowledge on...through this. All that we were. All that we knew...it would be lost forever."

"I know the pain you're suffering, Abelas. It is a pain my people carry every day, seeing the world we once ruled reject and revile us." Rajmael sympathized, remembering just how hard his own life was. "Trying to hold on to what's left, I know that hurts."

"You...cannot imagine. Each time we awake, it slips further from our grasp." Abelas lamented.

"There are other places, friend. Other duties. Your people yet linger." Solas beseeched.

"Elvhen such as you?" Abelas asked with a faint hint of hope in his voice.

"Yes. Such as I." Solas answered truthfully.

What were they talking about? Rajmael knew Solas' knowledge of the lost and unknown was vast, but did he know of other ancient elves who might exist? He would have to wait until later, if they make it out of here.

Abelas took one last sorrowful look at the Well before turning his attention back to Rajmael. "You have shown respect to Mythal, and there is a righteousness in you that I cannot deny. Is that your desire? To partake of the Vir'Abelasan as best you can, to defeat your enemy."

"Only if you permit us." Rajmael answered.

"One does not gain permission. One obtains the right." Abelas answered. The ancient Sentinel finally turned and walked away from the Well. He did not show it, but Rajmael recognized the pain he was in. "The Vir'Abelasan may be too much for a mere mortal to comprehend. Brave it if you must but know you this: You shall be bound forever to the will of Mythal."

"Bound? To a goddess who no longer exists, if she ever did?" Morrigan scoffed.

"Bound as we are bound. The choice is yours." Abelas answered ominously. "But my duty is over now."

"Where will you go?" Rajmael asked.

"Away. Perhaps there are some places the shemlen have not yet touched." Abelas sighed.

"That might be difficult." Dorian responded regrettably. "The ancient Imperium went to great lengths to sponge out elven history. You might be the last to know the truth. Perhaps you could seek out other elves, the ones who live today. There is so much you could teach them."

"Would the 'elves' of your lands even listen to the truth?"

"Perhaps." Dorian shrugged. "Would it hurt to try? To help them understand who they are?"

"It might shemlen. It very well might."

"There is a place for you, lethalin...if you seek it." Solas urged gently.

"Perhaps others of my kind exist," said Abelas. "Or perhaps only uthenera awaits us. The blissful sleep of eternity, never to awaken and only dream. If fate is kind."

"Wait. There is something I must know." Rajmael beseeched. "If you truly are a servant of Mythal, if you do know what fate befell our people, then please tell me: what happened to Mythal? What happened to our gods?"

"As I said before, Inquisitor, elven legends say that Mythal was tricked, along with the rest of the gods Fen'heral, and banished forever in the Beyond." Morrigan asserted confidently.

"'_Elven_' legends are wrong." Abelas answered gravely. "The Dread Wolf had nothing to do with her murder."

That caught Morrigan off guard. "Murder? I said nothing of-"

"You know nothing of elven history, shemlen." Abelas interjected. "I know not what happened to the other gods, only that they too are silent. Mythal was slain, if a god truly can be slain. Betrayed by those who destroyed this temple. Yet the Vir'Abelasan still remains. As do we. That is something. And now, I leave it to you."

"Ma serannas, Abelas." Rajmael thanked respectfully.

"Do not thank me, Dirth'ena Enasalin." Abelas pitied. "You still must pay the price."

"Malas amelin ne halam, Abelas." Solas said encouragingly.

Abelas looked back at the Well one last time with heartbreak in his eyes, then turned respectfully to Rajmael. "Garas'a enasalin, Ghil-dirthalen"

With his duty finally over, after centuries of devoted vigilance, the ancient elf walked away, and back into obscurity, like everything connected to the ancients. Rajmael could not help but feel regret and shame. Just like the Red Templars who invaded this place, he helped rob this people of everything they were, and all for the sake of a world that spits on the elves.

"His name, it means 'Sorrow'." Solas informed. "I said 'I hope he finds a new name'."

"And what about you, Inquisitor?" Varric asked. "What did you say?"

"Abelas said 'May you find victory, Seeker of True Knowledge." Rajmael answered dourly. "He called me 'Inquisitor'."

Rajmael and Morrigan turned their attention to the Well. On the other side of the Well was an inactive eluvian, long since made silence.

"You'll note the intact eluvian." Morrigan pointed. "I was right on that account at least."

"Is it still a threat? Could Corypheus use it to access the Fade?"

"You recall how I told you that every key for an eluvian is different, yes? The Well is the key. Take it, and Mythal's last eluvian is as useless to him as a sheet of glass." Morrigan answered.

The two mages stared at the Well, it's power demanding their attention. It was a pool of water, shallow yet so dark it may as well have been a bottomless pit. It was unnaturally still, as if it refused to move by anything. Despite its stillness, Rajmael couldn't help but feel something from the Well. Not just a reservoir of ancient knowledge, but some kind of presence lingered within the Well's dark water. An ominous feel, like a great pit that could never be filled. Looking at made Rajmael feel a sense of hesitant fear, like standing on the edge of a cliff, not knowing if you'll survive the fall.

Morrigan stared at the Well with an almost blank look in her eyes. Like she was in a trance. "'Tis strange. I did not expect the Well to feel so...hungry."

"_All_ power demands a price, Morrigan. And _all_ gods demand sacrifice." Rajmael warned.

"Knowledge begets a hunger for more." Morrigan stated, still in her semi-trance. She turned to the Inquisitor with a determined look on her face. "I am willing to pay the price the Well demands. I am also the best suited to use its knowledge in your service."

"Or more likely to your own ends." Solas accused.

"And what would you know of my _'ends'_, elf?" Morrigan demanded.

"You are a glutton! Drooling at the sight of a feast, seeking power you neither understand or have even earned. You cannot be trusted." Solas answered angrily.

"Of those present, I alone have the training to decipher the Well's knowledge." Morrigan insisted.

"You didn't even know of the Well's existence until today, Morrigan. Now you think you have the power to decipher something you know nothing of, as if you have the right to?!" Rajmael interrogated. "This is _elven_ knowledge, something I have devoted my whole life to reclaiming!"

"I have delved into the oldest lore! Studied mysterious that you could only dream of." Morrigan argued. "Can you_ honestly _tell me there is anyone more suited to this task than I?"

"Solas? You know more about the secrets of the ancients than anyone, and you respect the knowledge of our people. You could do this." Rajmael pleaded his fellow elf.

"No, I _cannot_. Do not ask me again." Solas answered dangerously. "You do not know what you're asking."

"Then it's _me._" Rajmael said with steel in his voice. "I have waited too long, lost too much just to let the greatest rediscovery of my people's history fall into your hands, Morrigan!"

"You lead the Inquisition. The world, your people, need you to be their protector. This is not a risk you must take." Morrigan claimed.

"Is there no other way?" Dorian interrupted. "I know this might seem hypocritical coming from a Tevinter mage, but if this is truly the last piece of elven knowledge, then right do we have to just take it? It doesn't belong to us. If we take it like this, we are no better than Corypheus."

"If we do not take it, then Corypheus will. Is that what you want, Pavus? A decision must be made." Morrigan asserted.

"If that is the case, then I say _you_ take it, Inquisitor." Vivienne spoke out with a deathly look at the Chasind she despised. "This witch has already proven she cannot be trusted. By all accounts, the power of this Well rightfully belongs to you. It is your birthright! You should not let anyone else claim it."

"If this power can be used against Corypheus, then it's better not to let someone you don't trust have it." Blackwall advocated. "You've already proven that you know how to wield power like this. I wouldn't trust it to anyone else."

"Stupid elfy things and their creepy demon stuff is nothing but trouble. Let the creepy witch take and let's forget this place." Sera demanded.

"I don't know, Boss. Even that Abelas guy seemed scared of this thing. Maybe listen to Sera on this one?" Iron Bull suggested.

Varric groaned in frustration. "Andraste's tits this is hard. Daisy would have given her life for just a mirror, and that didn't turn out well. But this isn't something you can find and put back together. Maybe you should take it. Maker knows you'll probably never find anything like this again."

Cassandra had conflictions of her own. All this talk of gods and sacrifices clashed with her devotion to the Maker and her feelings for Rajmael. "I understand that you want to protect this, Rajmael. Andraste, I know that seeing this temple like this hurts you. But these ancient rituals and magics demand heavy prices, and it may not be one you should have to pay. I dread to think what this would demand from you, my love."

"The Well demands a price. It will give you what you want, but it will take even more from you." Cole said quietly.

"Inquisitor, listen to me, please." Solas begged. "I understand what you're feeling right now, more than you could possibly know. You want to reclaim this knowledge for the People, but some things aren't _meant_ to be shared. You know what it means to serve, and what the price of servitude demands. The Inquisition has taken much from you, just as it did Ameridan. If you truly believe in Mythal, that her power was real, that she commanded the power that Corypheus covets, then you know the price gods demand from those in their service. Is that a price you wish to pay?"

Solas' words struck Rajmael's mind like lightning, everything he had learned about the Well flooded back to mind. The warning that Abelas gave them, the memories of the forlorn priests from different lifetimes who gave themselves to the Well. Rajmael realized the truth, the terrible price that was mentioned. The huger he felt emanating from the Well. Why only those who knew halam'shivanas, the sweet sacrifice of duty came to the Well. Something he understood, and Morrigan did not.

Rajmael looked deep into the Well, his mind conflicted with the choice before. "Looking at, hearing it...this isn't just a vault for the elven priests stored their knowledge. It's their collective will. The will to serve Mythal."

"How would you know such a thing?" Morrigan asked curiously.

"Because you're not the only one who's studied the works of the ancients! Because that is what Abelas warned us about!" Rajmael yelled. "The collective will of the priests puts whoever drinks it under a compulsion they must obey, a geas! Or are you too numb to feel that?"

"That...would explain the legends, but it does not say what the geas entails. I would still use the Well, but you are right, we must be cautious." Morrigan finally agreed, but not enough to relent.

"You saw how zealous Abelas and his Sentinels were, Morrigan, but they were not priests, only the guard dogs. What do you think the priests of Mythal must have been like?" Rajmael reminded. "I was Dirth'ena Enasalin and First of my clan long before I was Inquisitor, I know what it means to serve, what it demands. What it takes from you. You discard the very notion of servitude, you do not see the honor, nor are willing to submit to such a thing. Do you really think you're capable of paying the Well's price?"

"Bound to the will of a dead god? It seems an empty threat. Perhaps the will of the priests may take their toll on me, but I do not fear it, even so." Morrigan answered honestly and with all her self-confidence.

"And what's to stop you from taking the Well's power for yourself and leaving once you have it?" Rajmael demanded.

"My word." Morrigan answered with all the honesty she had.

"And what's the word of a lying thief worth, truly?" Rajmael looked at the Well. Never before had he been so conflicted. Everything he desired, his sole purpose in life, the chance to rediscover the knowledge his people lost lied in this Well. But was also aware of the price that all gods demanded for their favor. He remembered what the Jaws of Hakkon did, the destruction they could have caused by binding the might of the god of winter and war. He remembered what Nethras sought to accomplish, the power he and his Vir Banal'ras wielded from Elgar'nan's Blessing, and the terrible toll it took. No, this was not a price he could pay. He was still a walker of the Lonely Path, he would never submit. "You...are an arrogant fool, Morrigan. You seek knowledge you know nothing of or even respect, and you think you alone can wield it. And you care nothing for the consequences or what they can take from you."

"I told you already, I am willing to accept those consequences, whatever they may be." Morrigan insisted fervently.

"Then you are just like Corypheus." Rajmael scorned, earning a glare of anger from the witch. "Drink from the Well, then, and choke on it."

"A most wise decision, Inquisitor." Morrigan thanked.

"Don't make me regret this, Morrigan, or you will." Rajmael watched Morrigan wade into the Well. He could feel it's power awakening from its slumber, surrounding her. Rajmael felt waves of self-loathing and loss crash against is soul as he watched Morrigan take the last bit of knowledge of his people's heritage. It was almost like what he felt when he watched Evanura died, or when he killed Nethras. Everything he had sworn to claim for his people, everything he had dedicated his life to finding, and he was letting someone else take it, all because he was afraid of the consequences. In the back of his mind, Rajmael could feel Nethras kicking his ass for letting something that rightfully belonged to their people slip through his grasp. All he could do now was hope that this was the right decision.

The Well's waters came alive as Morrgan waded into the prize she finally had claim to. Streams of magic glowing like candle lights fluttered around the soul brave enough to dare the Vir'abelasan's price. At long last, another had come to give of themselves to Mythal. Rajmael could feel the power stirring from the Well, like dragon finally waking from years of slumber. And it was hungry.

Before any of them could realize what was going on, the Well's waters consumed Morrigan in a cascade of bright blue magic before erupting into a wave of white light. The Well's waters evaporated into nothing, leaving an unconscious Morrigan behind. She wasn't moving. Did the Well claim her life? Was that the price?

"Morrigan!" Rajmael called, he may willing to kill her to stop her foolishness, but he didn't want her to die from it. "Wake up!"

Morrigan's eyes shot open and she gasped for air as though she was trying to breath life back into her own body. She seemed confused, bewildered. Like she was trying to make sense of a bad dream she had forgotten. "Ellasin sallah! Vissan...vissanalah..."

What did she just say? That was of the best elven he had ever heard, except perhaps from Solas. What did the Well reveal to her? Already Rajmael regretted letting her take the Well's knowledge as a lump of envy swelled inside him.

Morrigan staggered to her feet, trying to regain her thoughts. "I...am intact. 'Tis difficult to sift through...but now we can..."

A pillar of fire exploded through the temple's entryway followed by the rancid stink of brimstone and rotting flesh. Out from the billowing smoke came the demonic silhouette of Corypheus. A triumphant and vile grin spread across the flesh of his twisted face. At long last he had found his prize.

The Elder One's victorious smile quickly soured into a twisted scowl of rage at the sight of his enemy already standing at the Well. How dare they touch a power reserved only for gods?! If he can't have the Well's knowledge, no one will!

_**"AAAAAARRRRGHHHHHH!"**_ Corypheus' scream erupted from his tainted mouth so powerfully that it could have put his pet dragon to shame. He furiously conjured and black cloud and flew towards the wretches who dared rob him of victory.

Without a plan to permanently kill the immortal magister, the Inquisition had to pull out now. But the only way out was to get past Corypheus, who was flying right at them.

"Quick, through the eluvian!" Morrigan merely pointed to the mirror and it activated from dormancy.

"Everyone, go! Now!"

There was no time think, no time to hesitate. All of them ran to the magic mirror, Rajmael waited until he made sure that every member of his party made it through. Corypheus was getting closer, Rajmael could feel the taint emanating from his being.

The Well's waters swirled out of nothing like a tidal wave, halting Corypheus' advance. Rajmael wasn't sure if his eyes could be trusted, but he saw the silhouette of a woman standing in side the wall of water, barring the magister from getting any closer. Rajmael didn't know what was happening, but he wasn't going to stick around long enough to find out. With Corypheus distracted, he jumped through the eluvian.

What was this? Another wretched guardian these pathetic elves thought would stand in his way? The strange spirit had the visage of an ethereal woman. She held her hand up before him as though she had the gall to order him to stop. This wretched thing would avail nothing!

The Elder One clawed at the apparition, but it flew out of his reach and soared into the eluvian, Corypheus flew after it. He must reach the mirror! It was barely within inches of his clawed hands, and it shattered. The explosion sent him flying back to Well's threshold.

Corypheus staggered to his feet and stared at everything he had so desperately tried to take as his own. Here he stood at the Well with eluvian nearby, after sacrificing all that remained of his forces. To have found his prize, yet it may as well be on the other side of the world. If his blood had been fire, his heart would be furnace burning with rage. He raised his head to the sky that he once tore open, and screamed his rage to the world. He _will_ gain entry to the Fade. He _will_ become the god this world deserved. But first, he must show the world the weakness of its faith. He must _kill_ the Herald, and world will watch him snuff its final hope out into dust.

**Language Codex:**

**Na milana sel Vilnalas****:** Elven, possible translation, _"You shall not enter"._

**Vir'abelasan:** Elven, translates as, _"Path to the Well of Sorrows"._

**Atish'all Vir Abelas'an:** Elven, translates as _"Enter the Path to the Well of Sorrows."_

**Dal'en tir Asha'bellanar:** Elven, roughly translates as _"Child of the Woman of Many Years"._

**Mythal enaste:** Elven, translates as _"Mythal's Blessing"._

**Halam'shivanas:** Elven, translates literally as _"The Sweet Sacrifice of Duty"._

**Ma serannas:** Elven, translates literally as _"My thanks"._

**Shemlen:** Elven term for humans, translates literally as _"Quick Children"._

**Venavis:** Elven, translates as _"halt"_ or _"stop"._

**Abelas:** Elven, translates literally as _"Sorrow"._

**Eluvian:** Elven, translates literally as _"Mirror"._

**Dirth'en Enasalin:** Elven, translates as _"Knowledge That Leads to Victory"._

**Dareth shiral:** Elven farewell, translates as _"Safe Journey"._

**Garas'a enasalin, Ghil-dirthalen:** Elven, translates as _"Find Victory, One Who Seeks Truth",_ or _"Go to victory, Inquisitor."_

**Author's Note:**

**And here we are, as promised. Two updates in one month to make up for the two months of nothing.**

**I will try to get my next chapter out as soon as possible, but I make no promises.**

**Obviously, I don't want to rush what comes next. I want to get every detail right.**

**Please review and tell me what you think.**


	35. The Calm Before The Storm

**The Calm Before The Storm**

Everyone found themselves right back in Skyhold after leaping to safety out of the eluvian Morrigan had locked away. As soon as the Inquisitor got through safely, Morrigan closed the mirror as quickly as possible. They all barely escaped their encounter with the Elder One by the skin of their teeth, the adrenaline was still pumping in their ears. Most of them had no idea what to expect when they went through that mirror back in the temple, but they were all glad to be back in Skyhold.

"It is done." Morrigan sighed with relief.

"Did everyone make it out alright?" Rajmael asked.

"I think I might lose my lunch, other than that, I'm okay." Varric groaned.

"It would seem we're all intact." Cassandra answered.

Rajmael sighed wearily, he was so tired right now but there was no time for rest at the moment. "Everyone, go get some rest. I must gather my council and plan our next move. Morrigan, I want you there with me."

"Of course, Inquisitor."

The two apostate mages made their way to the War Room, and to Rajmael relief, his Councilors were already there, waiting for him. Josephine breathed a sigh of relief to see their leader returned safe and sound. Cullen and Leliana were just as glad to see the Inquisitor. But this was not yet the time for celebration.

"Thank the Maker you're back." Josephine praised with heartfelt relief.

"I am pleased to report that we won the battle, Inquisitor." Cullen informed. "When you leapt through that mirror, Corpheus and his Archdemon fled the field. I am not sure why."

"What he wanted was no longer within the temple." Morrigan answered.

"Perhaps. He spent so much time trying to get into the temple, he probably couldn't have helped his forces at that point." Cullen finished.

"Then...Corypheus is finished." Josephine said hopefully.

"If he is wise, he will hide and rebuild his strength before he attacks again." Leliana added.

"He will not hide." Morrigan assured.

Rajmael believed the witch's words. "I know he won't. He can't. He will not let such an insult go unpunished. Corypheus will probably try to attack us here at Skyhold."

"Tis more to it than that, but yes, Inquisitor, you're correct. Corypheus will not stand idle." Morrigan assured.

"And how could you have such insight into his plans?" Leliana demanded accusingly.

"The Well of Sorrows held many voices, and they speak to me from across the ages." Morrigan answered.

A sour grimace spread across the Spymaster's face. "Tch. I cannot believe you let _her_ of all people drink from the Well, Inquisitor. Now we must rely on her interpretation and _hope_ that whatever she's telling us is the truth."

Morrigan glared at Leliana indignantly. "Why such ire? Have I not been forthcoming enough for you Spymaster?"

"Yes. As forthcoming as you were with Aedan during the Blight, I'm sure." Leliana scoffed, hitting the witch's soft spot.

That actually stung more than Leliana thought. Morrigan's glare became deadlier than a cobra's venom. "You dare?!"

Morrigan's magic flared in her hands as she advanced on Leliana, intent to do her harm. A stiletto sprang from the Spymaster's sleeve, and in the blink of an eye, she had the sharp Orlesian steel pressed against Morrigan's throat. Ten years worth of pent up resentment and distrust seethed from the two deadly women like hot steam from a burning cauldron, and they intended to finally let loose. Cullen and Josephine both readied themselves for what looked like a fatal encounter.

A bolt of lightning flew right between the redheaded bard and the raven-haired skin-changer, instantly getting both their attention.

"Enough!" Rajmael commanded with full authority, his hand raised to both of them, ready to cast another spell. "I will _not_ have infighting in my own camp! Whatever issues are between you two, they can wait until there isn't a Blight-corrupted psychopath with delusions of godhood out there trying to kill us."

The witch and the spy both lowered their weapons and slowly backed away from each other, regaining their composure.

Rajmael waited until he was satisfied that both these women weren't going to murder each other to speak. "Now, back to the matter at hand. Morrigan, how _do_ you know what Corypheus intends?"

"The voices from the Well possess great wisdom, and the hold secrets I never dreamed possible." Morrigan answered calmly, her normal ice-cold demeanor returned. "But even they fear what Corypheus has become."

"Them, and the rest of the world. Can they tell you anything useful, like how do we kill him?"

"As a matter of fact, they do. He has a weakness." Morrigan revealed with a sly grin on her face. "The dragon Corypheus commands is not truly an Archdemon. It is a dragon, in which Corypheus has invested part of his being. He doubtlessly did so out of pride. To emulate the Old Gods of Tevinter who he abandoned. That pride can be exploited. Kill the dragon, and his ability to leap into other bodies is disrupted. He can be slain."

"Oh, is that all? And here I thought this was going to be difficult." Rajmael sighed glibly.

"T'would foolish to think that dealing with any such power would be easy, but from what I understand, you've slain quite a number of dragons yourself. This should be nothing you're not already used to." Morrigan assured.

"So what do you propose?" Cullen asked. "If this thing does share Corypheus' power, then it will be more powerful than any dragon the Inquisitor has encountered. Finding the creature alone would be a difficult task."

"There is a way to defeat the dragon, to match Corypheus in his power. The Well whispers it to me now." Morrigan explained. "Your help will be required, Inquisitor. Speak to me when you are ready to begin."

Rajmael looked back over to his Councilors. "In the meantime, I want all of you to make sure our defenses are ready. If the dragon does come here, I want us to be able to survive it."

"Such preparations have already been accounted for, Inquisitor." Leliana promised. "We've been preparing for this ever since Haven."

"Thanks to all the support from our allies and the resources we have gathered, this keep is ready to hold off a ten-year siege, if needs be." Josephine assured.

"There is one more matter we must address, Inquisitor." Cullen affirmed with a more serious look than usual. In fact, it was deathly. "Even as we speak, our forces are bringing Samson to Skyhold for Judgment. I...believe it would be best to finally put this matter behind us when he arrives."

Rajmael's face became just as grim as Cullen's. "I agree, Cullen. Samson has had this coming for too long. Oh, and Josephine? I need the list of casualties from the Dales ready for me, and would you be so kind as to get Master Dennet for me, please? Tell him to bring a branding iron."

**~XoXoXo~**

With their orders clear, the Councilors left the War Room, leaving the Inquisitor by himself. Rajmael stared at his hand, unable to take his eyes of it. Where once there was marred, distorted flesh with a waxy sheen, a permanent reminder of how his childhood was destroyed, was now perfectly healed. No traces of that horrible day when he was almost burned alive. Every other scar he had acquired over the course of his difficult and harsh life, every battle scar and injury, was gone too, like they never even existed. It wasn't like new skin, soft and sensitive, but strong and lean, but uninjured, like nothing had ever happened to it. But it was not enough to cover up the the anger and sorrow that was tearing him up inside.

After everything he had seen, learned and lost in the Temple of Mythal left Rajmael in a state of melancholy and anger. He was angry seeing humans once again razing everything he held sacred for the sake of their own selfish gain. How much more could his people afford to lose until they were left with nothing? Why? Why must everything that the elves built be burned like it meant nothing? Depressed, sorrowful, heartbroken these words were not strong enough to describe how he felt about learning that the elves destroyed themselves in a war so devastating that it made them easy prey for Tevinter. Worst yet, to learn that the vallaslin, the most integral part of the Dalish's identity was nothing more than a slave brand. A reminder that they, a people who cherish freedom more than anything, were once no better than the humans who enslaved them. This would crush every Dalish heart in Thedas.

Rajmael sauntered out of the War Room and out of the keep to get some air. He needed to take his mind off these things. Corypheus was still out there, and he needed to get his head together. First put Corypheus in the grave, then he could feel sorry for himself. But first, he really, _really_ needed a smoke and a drink.

The Herald's Rest was quite full and the sounds of cheerful conversation as Maryden the bard played a jaunty tune that filled the air. Many of them were bragging about the major victory they won in the Arbor Wilds, raising their glasses to themselves or comrades who didn't make it. The Bull's chargers were laughing loudly and singing their company song, while the Sutherland company toasted one another for contributing to the Inquisition. Varric was there with a tankard in clenched in his fist while he spun a yarn to the soldiers about what they discovered in the mysterious temple. Even Vivienne was there, having Cabot the bartender shake her up a fruity drink. But Rajmael wasn't here to join any of them in celebrating their victory, he was here to drown his loss.

He ordered himself a bottle of Aquae Lucidius, brewed from wyvern venom with a legendary reputation for knocking even the most battle hardened Chevalier flat on his ass. There were many stories of men actually killing themselves just by sipping this stuff. But if there's one thing Rajmael learned from the dwarves, it's to never underestimate the healing powers of booze.

Rajmael sat down at a table by himself on the first floor. Perhaps this could help dull the stinging sensation that was tearing him up inside. He took out his sylvanwood pipe and lit it before taking a nice, long, relaxing drag, letting the effects of the burnt herbs sooth his nerves.

"Hey, you!" Hollered an all too familiar and annoying voice. No sooner had Rajmael started smoking did Sera seat herself across from him with a smile that was more smug than usual, and a pint of beer in her hand. She was giggling so much it was almost disturbing, even for her. What was so damned funny?

"Sorry." Sera sniggered. "Wait, no, I'm not. It's just so funny, innit? That creepy old Abelas saying the elves weren't destroyed by Tevinter?"

That thing in the back of Rajmael's mind began to stir dangerously. "I'm sorry, are you...gloating? Over someone else's pain?"

Varric saw the conversation going on between the two elves, and sensed what was going to happen. He got behind Rajmael and tried to signal. Pressing his finger to his lip, crossing his hand against his throat, even just shaking his head. But Sera either didn't notice, understand, or care.

"And why not?" Sera snorted. "That's the elfy elves' thing, innit? Being the sore losers of history? Can't be a _proper_ elf unless your complaining about what happened hundreds of years ago. I never hear the end of it. Always whining about how some history was_ 'stolen'_ from us. Turns out, we're no different from anyone else." Sera took another swig of her beer before laughing some more, never noticing that Varric was still trying signal danger to her. "Plus, a big, old temple full of demon-worshiping lies. Grand, that."

_"Excuse me?_ Maybe you want to elaborate on that?" Rajmael dared, smoke billowing out of his mouth and nostrils.

Varric waved his arms and jumped up and down behind Rajmael, trying so hard to get Sera's attention and avoid the Inquisitor's. Iron Bull noticed what was going on, and fearing what might happen, tried to assist Varric in silently telling the Red Jenny to shut up. Sera just looked blankly at the two guys making asses of themselves in the middle of the tavern, never noticing what they were trying to tell her, or the vein pulsing in Rajmael's forehead. Vivienne certainly noticed, but did nothing except watch everything begin to unfold while sipping her drink with an entertained grin on her face.

"Well, I mean, it was impressive and all. Makes the Dalish look like tits for living in the woods, but so what?" Sera responded. "I mean, there can't be a bunch of elven gods _and_ the Maker going about, now can there? No matter how much or how little you believe, those things don't fit. So call me stupid, but I like _not_ believing in things made up by dead people who _failed_."

"Oh, you mean just like Andraste? A barbarian war leader who failed to defeat her enemies and was burned by them?" Rajmael scoffed completely repulsed.

"What? No! It's not the same thing, completely different." Sera denied with her foot in her mouth. "I mean...No, that can't be right. I don't know much, but I know that there are things out there that just don't fit, no matter how hard you believe. I mean, there can't be a buncha elfy gods _and_ the Maker going around. It just doesn't fit! Mythal is a ruin full of _demons and lies_, and anyone who doesn't know that is a bunch of idiots."

Rajmael grabbed the bottle of aquae lucidius and chugged down half the bottle in several large gulps, the vein in his forehead still pounding. That thing in the back of his mind was screaming at him, and this time, he was going to listen to it. "Okay, Stupid, so you're calling _me_ an idiot _and_ a demon worshipper? You're saying my entire clan, my father and my _daughter_, are idiots and demon worshippers. Is that what you're telling me?!"

"Oh, shit." Varric sighed in defeat. Iron Bull groaned into his hands while Vivienne looked on in anticipated delight.

"You...make me sick to my ass, Sera." Rajmael seethed with a disgust he usually reserved for Chevaliers. "You're an emotional fucking cripple, with the IQ of a rotting apple. Were you dropped on your head or bottlefed stupid as infant. There has got to be a logical explanation as to how insanely stupid you are for having the gall to insult my people to my face!

All the onlookers gasped in silence at that last sentence. Even Varric, and especially Cole, felt the sting of the Inquisitor's words. Vivienne watched on in anticipation with her drink, enjoying that look on Sera's face that reminded her so much of a whipped dog that got in trouble for soiling the carpet. After the humiliation the Inquisitor had inflicted on her, Vivienne felt a sense of satisfaction seeing him bestow it on someone far more deserving of such treatment. Sera sat frozen in shock at what the Inquisitor was saying.

"I have never seen such a blatant waste of potential as you are!" Rajmael fumed. "You could accomplish so much yet you're content to be nothing but a stuck-up pain in the ass! You go around pretending to care about the poor and mistreated, but have no problem stuffing yourself like a damned pig while other people are starving. You pretend to care about your so-called friends, but you never even bother to remember their names. Shit, you didn't even bother to remember the people you got killed in Verchiel!"

That last comment stung, and Sera's lip twitched painfully. All sounds of music and laughter died and the room became as silent as a tomb. No one dared to even breath too loudly. No one had ever seen the Inquisitor this angry before. Too often many of them had forgotten that the Inquisitor was a Dalish elf before he was declared the Herald of Andraste, and like many elves, he had a difficult life and knew how to bare a grudge. All they could do was watch in silence and pity as they watched the Inquisitor take his anger out on Sera for offending him.

"Abelas and all his Sentinels did more with their lives in those final hours of protecting that temple, than you have done in your whole fucking life! You run around with your head stuffed up your ass pretending to know what the world is, but you have no idea what real people go through. You think because the noblewoman who adopted you ruined cookies for you, you know what true pain is? What the rest of us have lived with?!"

"How...how do you know about that?" Sera gritted through her teeth, an angry tear forming in her eye.

"You think Leliana's just here to look pretty? I know everything I need to know about you, and I'm not impressed." Rajmael spat. "Grow the fuck up, Sera! You don't know what it's like to starve, to watch everything you love be destroyed right in front of you. You had a better life than any elf in the Alienage, but you dare to mock our suffering?! Tell me something, Sera, and be honest because I'll know if you're lying: when you first met me and you realized I was an elf, you were disappointed weren't you? You didn't like the idea of being around an _elfy_-elf, did you?

Sera stood there silently, her face hard and gritting her teeth. She didn't want to answer, but she did. "...No."

"You knew me for about five seconds, and you were already judging me." Rajmael remembered angrily. "And when Briala was leading the elves in a rebellion against Orlais, you weren't rooting for her. You wanted us to save Celene."

"Hey! That's not my fault!" Sera hollered. "She was the stupid one, getting people killed so she could get back at the empress over a lover's spat!"

"Oh. So it had nothing to do with the fact that Briala was fighting for the oppressed elves. You just wanted us to save the empress who burned Halamshiral's Alienage and thinks it's okay to treat elves like shit. So what were you doing to help the suffering little people?"

Sera said nothing, she had nothing to say.

"Oh, that's right. You were running around playing and stealing some nobleman's pants." Rajmael said mockingly. "You don't have the right to judge anyone, least of all the elves. All you want to do is play and go around like you think you know how the world works. You spit on elves and our culture while mocking our suffering, then you pretend as if you're fighting for the oppressed and mistreated when all you're doing is just having fun at other people's expense."

"Yeah, well...if what elves didn't believe was so stupid, I wouldn't need to laugh, would I?" Sera said defensively.

"You're the stupid one Sera! We elves may not have much, but we have each other. What do you have?" Rajmael's words cut a deep wound into Sera. "You do nothing for anyone, least of all yourself. All you are is a spoiled, ignorant child and a fucking hypocrite. You are no different than the nobles you steal from."

Sera got up from her chair. Her face twisted into a mix of hurt and anger. What the Inquisitor said stung in her chest. "You...you take that back, or else I'm gonna...I'm gonna...!"

Rajmael's hand swiped across her face faster than she could blink and left a red hand mark on her cheek. It stung so bad tears welled up in Sera's eyes. Even Lady Emmald had never struck her. In a fit of anger, she reared her hand to strike him back, but his sword flashed against her neck faster than she could blink

"The truth hurts, doesn't it?" The Inquisitor asked rhetorically, pressing his sword against Sera's scrawny neck. "I'd dare you to prove me wrong, but you and I both know you're incapable of doing that because it's too damned hard you. All you're going to do is go back to your room, cry like you didn't deserve this, write in your bullshit little journal and complain about how stupid I am. You'll probably pull a few pranks that'll just annoy me, but that's it. You're incapable of doing, or even being anything else."

For the first time since Sera was you, she started crying. What he said hurt, real bad. Why? Words aren't suppose to hurt this bad.

"Inquisitor." A firm voiced addressed.

Rajmael kept his sword held on Sera and looked over to the doorway to the voice that called him to find Commander Cullen addressing him from the doorway. "What is it, Commander?"

Cullen's face was more stern than usual and his eyes had a look of urgency in them. "Our forces from the Arbor Wilds, they've finally delivered Samson. They're waiting for you in the keep to render judgment."

That finally took Rajmael's attention off of the Red Jenny being held in his grip. She was insignificant compared to the general of the Red Templars. Rajmael finally took the blade of his sword away from her neck and sheathed. He never looked back at her. "Sera, if you ever, and I do mean _ever_, insult my people within earshot of me again...I _will_ kill you."

Everyone in the tavern waited until they were sure the Inquisitor was gone to start breathing again. It was like waiting for a hungry bear to leave and hope it didn't notice them. Sera stood there with a look of mixed pain and anger painted on her face. The rest of the Inquisitor's companions looked out the doorway where the Inquisitor left.

"You think he's going to be okay?" Varric finally asked.

"Him?! What about me?! I was the one with that crazy nutter's sword against my neck, getting slapped!" Sera shrieked in outrage. Her cheek was still stininging and tried to rub it away.

"Oh, come on, Sera, I saw you get slapped around worse back at Adamant." Iron Bull shrugged. "I've seen the Boss deflect arrows and fireballs with that sword of his. If he really wanted to cut your head off, he would have."

"I don't get it, Buttercup, why'd you have to set him off like that?" Varric sighed.

"Ha! A rather pointless question, don't you think, Varric." Vivienne laughed, finishing her martini. "As if she has ever taken the time to think before she talks."

"Shut up, ya nob-sucker!" Sera spat, her throat still hurting.

"No, you need to shut up. Shut up and listen, Buttercup." Varric said with a serious look on his face that was almost foreign to everyone. "You don't like anything elven, I get that." Varric stood in front of Sera and made sure she was listening to what he had to say. "I don't like most things dwarven. I'm as far from a real dwarf as you can possibly get. I think real dwarves are crazy for living underground that they care way too much about what the Ancestors think or did, instead of concentrating on what's going on now. But you know something? Deep down, maybe I'd like to see Orzammar restored, the thaigs reclaimed and dwarven society not being on the brink of extinction."

That caught everyone offguard. Never before had any of them heard Varric speak so firmly, or of the dwarves with respect.

"I can say all the crap I want about dwarves because I know what they're like, but not once have I ever mocked the dwarves for their shortcomings, especially considering the number one cause of most dwarven homicides is other dwarves. Orzammar only has itself to blame for its troubles. But elves like the Inquisitor, like Daisy, love their people, despite their mistakes, and risk everything to give something back to them." Varric defended adamantly. "Rajmael was forced to kill his own brother, had to watch his father die not even a week ago, and then for you to laugh at his people suffering, after everything his been through...well, that's pretty damned low. You oughta be ashamed of yourself."

"Yeah, Sera." The Bull joined in reluctantly but was compelled to says something. "I hate to say it, but ever since you first joined up with the Inquisition, all you've ever done is insult him. And to tell the truth, I'm surprised this didn't happen a long time ago."

"No..." Sera tried to deny, mostly to herself. "All I did was..."

"The Inquisitor considers _all_ elves as his people. You've insulted the elves at almost every chance you got, jut like you did now." Bull reminded. "And when you disrespect the elves, no matter what _you_ might think, you're disrespecting him and everything he believes in."

"Oh, please do wipe that sad look off your face, darling. It's ever so pitiful." Vivienne handed Sera a handkerchief with a mocking smile on her face. "And while you're at it, dear, why don't you just insult everyone else here in this tavern. They've all lost something in this war as well, and I'm sure they'd love for you to laugh at them, too."

The rest of the Inquisitor's companions made their way out of the tavern, leaving Sera standing by herself on the floor, completely stunned. Hearing Vivvy talk down at her was no big thing, she could just laugh that off and make her own fun right back. But hearing Varric, Mr. Never-Takes-Anything-Serious, scold her, that hurt. Like, really hurt. Sera took a moment to look at everyone in the joint and they we're all giving her the stink eye.

"That girl has some major problems to work out." One of the Inquisition soldier muttered to a couple of his drinking buddies.

Her? His Inquisy-elfness is the one threatening to chop off hands.

"How can she just mock our people after what was found in the Arbor wilds?" An Orlesian sounding elf said to some more elves. "She's like those humans I used to work for in Jader."

What? All they found there was a mess and some crazy elves looking at some old statues and were DEMON WORSHIPERS!

"Are all Red Jennies insensitive brats, or did we luck out and get the stupid, mouthy one with the annoying voice." The dwarven barkeep grumbled.

"Well, what can you expect from a thief?" Some snooty knight responded. "They lack honor, tact and especially respect. Honestly, the Inquisitor must've been drunk when he recruited her."

"Oh, how can that girl be so blind?" A Chantry sister sighed. "Is she not close enough to our Lord Herald to realize that the Maker may be in other forms and that there are other divine mysteries to our world?

What was with everyone? Seriously!? There can't be a bunch of elfy demon-gods out and the Maker! All she did was just point out the obvious facts. So...why was everyone looking at her as if she did something wrong?

Why did she have this bad feeling in her gut and chest that made her wanna hit something, or cry. Or both. She wasn't supposed to care about what other people thought about her. So why was she feeling like such a shit? Was she really the only one in the Inquisition who thought like that. The only one who was...well, normal? Well, she obviously isn't if she's the only normal person in a place full everyone whose not, then she's the one who's not normal. Elves, dwarves, even qunari were all in this Inquisition, and everyone she traveled with weren't normal. They all believed differently, right? And regular people don't like it when snooty pricks shit on the things they cared about.

Wow. Sera never thought this deep before. It's a bad feeling, yeah? To be the only one with your own beliefs, then have others mad at you and kick you for it. Now she knew how the Inquisitor felt this whole time. Sera felt the same way when the Harrmond arse killed and insulted her friends. She really is a snooty little prick after all. That realization hurt more than the Inquisi-Herald's fist ever could.

Sera made her way back to her room, not letting anyone see that their words got to her. Her first impulse was to just draw a crude picture of the Inquisitor and cover it with arrows, or maybe do something dirty to his food or room. But that wouldn't make her feel better, just thinking about it made her feel worse. Instead she took out her little diary and started writing in it. "What is normal? Who are normal people?"

**~XoXoXo~**

Once again, Rajmael sat on the Throne of the Inquisitor. It was not a seat he placed himself in lightly, nor was it ever one he wanted to take. But given everything he had seen and fought against, all the pain and destruction Samson caused by leading the Red Templars, Rajmael was exactly where he wanted to be.

The guards dragged the defeated, chained general into the keep. All eyes were fixed on him, glaring hatefully at the object of all their grief. Pain, anger and disgust was painted on every face in the room, Rajmael's included. One of the servants even spat at Samson, but the guards urged him to get back. Rajmael didn't blame the man, he wanted to spit on Samson, too.

Samson stood before the Inquisitor. The now one-eyed general couldn't even bring himself to look the Inquisitor face-to-face. Rajmael could already see the effect the lyrium withdrawal was having on his body. He seemed so much weaker now, like all the vitality and power had been sucked right out of him, leaving behind nothing but an empty, sad shell. But there was no room in Rajmael's heart for pity, not for the man who willingly, proudly caused so much death in Corypheus' name.

Instead of looking to find Josephine standing ready to read the charges, Rajmael found Cullen standing in place of his Ambassador. Rajmael wasn't in the least bit surprised.

"Forgive me, Inquisitor, but for personal interest, I've taken the liberty of relieving Lady Josephine. As you might expect." Rajmael gave a consenting nod. Cullen turned to charge the accused with contempt etched on his face. "Knight-Templar Raleigh Samson, General to Corypheus, traitor to the Order of Templars. The blood on his hands cannot be measured." The guards shoved Samson before the Inquisitor. "Strangely enough, his head is too valuable to take. Ferelden, Orlais, Kirkwall: many would see him suffer. I can't I am not one of them."

Rajmael stared down at his defeated enemy forebodingly. "Well, they're just going to have to wait their turn. I have every intention of leaving my mark on him first."

"The red lyrium will steal your vengeance. You already know what it does." Samson reminded bleakly. "Corypheus only delayed my corruption."

It was true. Samson was shivering uncontrollably from the severity of lyrium withdrawal. And after that horrible beating Rajmael gave him, he was surprised the man could even stand.

"Are you still loyal to that thing?" Cullen asked disbelievingly. "He poisoned the Order. Used them to kill thousands of people!"

"The Templars have always been used! How many of them were left to rot, like I was, after the Chantry burned away their minds." Samson snapped back. "Piss on it! I followed him so that the Templars your kind threw away could at least die at their best! Same lie as the Chantry, the prophet just isn't as pretty."

That thing was starting to chew at the back of Rajmael's head again. He didn't think it was possible, but he hated Samson even more now. "That's it? That's your defense? You intentionally led your men to their deaths, in the name of a monster, but at least they got to die at their best? You're even more pathetic than I realized."

"I'm not offering a defense!" Samson barked through his crooked teeth. "What I did was a mercy for those men and women who were already lost."

"You were always weak, Samson. And your leadership proves it." Cullen scoffed in disgust.

"Everyone of those Templars would have suffered until nothing was left of them. And then be forced to kill and die, only to be discarded by the Chantry that said our cause was a holy one, when all we were was their chained dogs." Samson argued, looking at Cullen hatefully. "You think you understand what is was like for the other men and women in the Order who didn't swallow the Chantry's rot as happily as you did, Commander? You don't! Not when you happily hopped like a faithful dog at Meredith's every command no matter how terrible."

A glint of shame appeared in Cullen's eyes, remembering those terrible days. Even Hawke had hated him for that.

"You don't know what is was like to be thrown to gutter and forgotten like garbage, like me and the rest of us who didn't kiss every Grand Cleric's shoes." Samson gasped for breath, tried to keep the pain from his withdrawals under control. "I gave them hope, a chance to die for a cause where we would we be honored for our sacrifices instead of being discarded when weren't needed. Just like you, Cullen. Just like the Chantry. But I'm weak, right? And you're a bloody savior. Do what you want. I'm done talking."

Those two words that Samson spoke echoed in Rajmael's head like a loud bell. Mercy and Hope. Never before had he heard those two words together and felt so disgusted. Hearing Samson's excuses was enough to make him want to puke. Rajmael had heard enough. He signaled Josephine to hand him the list he requested earlier.

"Do you know what this is, Samson?" Rajmael held the scroll so that everyone in the hall could see it.

Samson looked closely at the item in question with his remaining eye but remained silent.

The Inquisition flung the scroll forward and everyone watched as it unraveled on the floor, rolling well past Samson and a good distance down the hall. By the time it stopped rolling, it was a mere six feet away from the Main Hall's entry. Many eyes looked at the sheer length of this document with astonishment.

"Ambassador Montilyet, would you tell us what this document is." Rajmael instructed.

"It is a...list of names, Your Worship." Josephine answered with a hint of apprehension in her voice.

"Whose names?"

"All the unfortunate souls who've perished at the hands of Corypheus and his followers." A wave of disbelieving gasps and murmurs went through the crowd at Josephine's words.

"And what is the total number of victims?"

Josephine's lip trembled, she tried to maintain a neutral face, but it was difficult to not feel saddened by the answer she had. "We...we do not an accurate count, Inquisitor. We are still receiving reports of those who have been killed all over Southern Thedas. Some on this list is the names of those we lost at Haven, and some are from Sahrnia. The losses are...incalculable."

That crowd of murmuring witnesses turned into a choir of shock and outraged horror. Almost every soldier, servant, volunteer and supporter had lost someone to the Red Templars, and any sense of pity was now gone. Samson stood there, as unmoved and silent as stone.

"Did you hear that, Samson? So many dead that we can't even get an accurate count. You're reasons, you're excuses, make me sick!" Rajmael seethed with revulsion. The memory of killing that little girl in Sahrnia to end her pain still haunted him. "You dare speak of _mercy_ when you ordered all the people in Sarhnia to be turned into fertilizer for your red lyrium? You believe you can give _hope_ when you willingly assisted Corypheus in killing thousands? You think _I_ don't know what it means to be a victim of someone else's tyranny?! All you are is a pathetic reprobate with a grudge and a line excuses to help you feel sorry for yourself!"

Samson tried to remain stone-faced, but the Inquisitor's words cut him deep. "What else do you expect? I am...only what the Chantry taught me to be. Killing for a cause, some higher power and feeling righteous about it, knowing that anything that was done was necessary. Who do you think taught me that?"

"All you've ever done is allow others to define you. All you've ever been is someone else's bitch. Well, now you're _my_ bitch, and I'm going to do something that will define you for the remainder of your miserable waste of life. Master Dennet?" The stable master approached the Inquisitor and handed him a branding iron with the Inquisition's crest. Rajmael held the iron tightly and charged his magic through it, causing the brand to burn furiously in his grip. "Hold the prisoner."

The guards did as they were ordered, and forced the prisoner to his knees. Not that weakened, beaten man could put up much of a fight.

Rajmael walked down from his throne with hateful malice burning his eyes, and the flaming hot iron held in his hand. He held and waved the iron dangerously close to Samson's face and remaining eye. "Countless other people, better people died, because of you. You left a mark on this world from which it will never truly heal. well, now _I'm_ going to put a mark on you from which you will never heal. A permanent reminder of what you really are: evil." The guards held Samson's head firmly in place. Heavy breaths of terror and spit flew out of Samson's mouth while he tried to brace himself for the pain. A small but sardonic grin appeared on Rajmael's face. "A mage branding a Templar. Sick irony or poetic justice?"

Samson's scream split the air and curdled Josephine's blood. Many of the onlooker turned gasped in horror and turned away from the grisly punishment. Despite the severity of this act, there were also many in the hall who felt justified in the Inquisitor's action. Many of them lost their homes or loved ones to Samson and his Templars. It was time someone delivered punishment on the man who took so much from them.

Cullen never took his eyes away. As the man who put the most effort into finding Samson and aiding in his apprehension, Cullen was duty-bound to witness his punishment. There was no room for sympathy, not after everything Samson did. He remembered why Samson was cast out of the Order. Thrown out of the Order he had sworn himself to and left to starve by Meredith simply because he showed a mage the decency every sentient being deserves. It was unfair and unjust, Samson had every right to hate the Chantry for it. But in the end, it didn't matter. Samson _chose_ to follow Corypheus. He _chose_ to poison what was left of the Order, then lead them in a mad war that left countless people dead. Being branded was the absolute least he deserved for all the pain and horror he caused.

Josephine averted her eyes and covered her mouth in horror. The agony Samson's terrible screaming filled her ears and turned her blood to ice. She wanted to stop this, to beg the Inquisitor that this was inhumane and beneath them. But she remembered that list and all the names of those poor people that died under Samson's command. How many people died in such horrible agony, how many of them begged for their pain to end? Then she remembered all those brave souls who died defending Haven when Samson attacked them. Josephine could not bring herself to look, but she knew that this was man responsible for all the pain that was happening. Josephine would not interfere with the Inquisitor's justice.

Leliana put a comforting hand on Josephine's shoulder, she knew the horror her friend was feeling right now. Leliana looked on at Samson's mutilation, in Josephine's stead, her gaze cold and unflinching. Ten years ago, she did the very thing Josephine wanted to do. During the Blight Leliana begged Aedan to spare the lives of a group of Howe soldiers when he forced them to dig their own graves. But then she saw the horrible crimes Rendon Howe and his men inflicted on those who served Aedan's household, and all the terrible things Howe did to his own people for selfish gain. What Samson was suffering right now was a mercy compared to what the Hero of Ferelden would have done to him. Those commit terrible crimes in the name of evil must suffer terrible punishments. And it was up to men like Aedan and Rajmael to administer those punishments.

Rajmael pressed the white-hot branding iron firmly against Samson's forehead. The sounds of Samson's agony rang in his ears and the vile stench of his flesh cooking filled Rajmael's nostrils. It was a horrific pain that Rajmael was all too familiar with. It was a pain he had lived with since he was ten years old when the Chantry condemned him to burn. Samson deserved to know what this pain was like, and he was going to live with it for the rest of his life, just like every child who was orphaned in this war, every parent whose child was ripped from the because of Samson's twisted conviction.

Rajmael finally removed the brand from Samson's forehead, the mark of the Inquisition burned deeply into his flesh. Samson blacked out and fell to the floor unconscious from the agony. The fresh burn was still smoking and reeked with that horrible stench. The Inquisitor threw the branding iron into a nearby bannister, never taking his glare off his sights off Samson, his eyes filled with hate.

"Now, take this..._thing_ out of my keep. Send him to Kirkwall. I'm sure Guard-Captain Aveline would be more than happy to pass judgment on the man who betrayed their city for the Elder One."

The guards did as they were ordered, and everyone in the keep watched in shocked silence as the general of Corypheus' army was carried out like a mutilate corpse. Some believed the Inquisitor's actions were too harsh, but they had never set foot on a battlefield, nor seen the innumerable dead that were killed thanks to Samson. Then there were those who felt that the Inquisitor was not severe enough, that merely branding the bastard who killed so many deserved to be killed in turn. Many of them did not know the truth that Rajmael knew, the true punishment of his infliction. For those who have been beaten down, broken and left with nothing but a permanent reminder of their loss, living was worse than death. Rajmael knew it all too well, and now Samson was going to have to live with what he is and what he has done until the sweet mercy of death claimed him.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael sat by himself on his throne, the main hall now empty. It was so quiet you could hear a moth flying, yet the sounds of Samson's screams still echoed in these walls. The smell of burning flesh still lingered in the air. After he had passed the sentence, many could not get out of the hall fast enough. It was for the best. Rajmael was not in a happy mood, despite the monumental victories they had achieved.

Even after all this, it still felt like they were far from victory. Foiling his attempt to destroy Orlais, robbing him of his demon army at Adamant, and now denying him the Well of Sorrows at the Temple of Mythal, all of it would be meaningless unless they found a way to kill a truly immortal being. Corypheus had truly surpassed the Old Gods he had once served so completely. Nearly all the Archdemons had been slain, but Corypheus, had been killed multiple times, only to rise again. And the more he rose, the more evident his godhood seemed to his followers, making them that much more eager to kill and die in his name. This war will not end until Corypheus is dead, and Rajmael knew the final battle was coming soon.

Rajmael couldn't have been the only one thinking these thoughts. He was sure some of his companions were probably tearing their hair out thinking about what was coming next. Perhaps talking would help them as much as himself.

**~XoXoXo~**

Cullen was in his office, throwing knives with surprising accuracy, and a good deal of anger, at a training dummy. He threw enough daggers into that thing to open a cutlery.

"Samson took everything from those Templars." Cullen lamented. "He corrupted their souls, twisted them into everything they stood against. Everything they would have hated."

"He got to you, didn't he?"

"And so what if he did?" Cullen scowled. "The red lyrium left Samson's mind unaltered, he knew what he was doing to those men and women. He dares to say it was a mercy? The man's a monster. Putting a brand on his head then shipping him off to Kirkwall was still too kind for him."

"But he was right, to some degree, wasn't he? That's why you're so angry." Rajmael guessed. He was fully aware of Cullen's past.

Cullen sighed a deep breath of depression. "Samson was forced to become addicted to lyrium by the Chantry, then he was kicked out and left to starve over a few love letters. To be a respected knight then kicked down to a beggar scraping for lyrium? He had every right to hate the Chantry. I know what it means to feel hatred like that. After what happened to me during the Blight, I hated all mages and treated them like threats. I'm no longer addicted to lyrium, but if things had gone differently, would I have become like him?"

"I cannot say what could or could not have been, Cullen. There's not a doubt in my mind that if you and I had met years ago, I probably would have killed you for what the Templars did to me." Rajmael answered honestly. "But when it mattered, you made the choices to define yourself. You chose to stop letting your lyrium addiction control your life. And you chose to follow me. Samson was dealt a shitty hand, but in the end it's our choices, not our experiences that define us."

"I suppose that's true, though even you can't deny that our experiences also shape us into who we are." Cullen agreed. "Thank you for all that you've done. I doubt any of us could have ever made it this far without you, nor would I be the man I am now thanks to you."

**~XoXoXo~**

The Inquisitor walked to the armory. Several shipment of fine weapons from Orzammar, Val Royeaux, and even a shipment from the master smith Wade in Denerim, had been just been procured by Quarter Master Eustace Morris. The Bull's Chargers and the Sutherland Company were already plundering the newly acquired gear by the time Rajmael got to the armory.

"This is some high quality gear!" Sutherland marveled at the silverite armor he put on. "This is like the stuff those knights in Amaranthine would wear."

"Back in Orzammar, the Mining Caste has a monopoly on digging up silverite while the Smith Caste wars with itself over its use." Rat informed while adjusting her commander's armor.

"So this is real silverite. I never thought I'd ever actually get tot even touch silvierite. I heard it's stronger than steel but lighter than a feather." Shayd marveled smilingly with glitter in her eyes.

"Oh, and it looks great on you, love. You too, Voth." Sutherland complemented. Voth was his usual stoic self, but it was obvious he was comfortable in his new set of armor.

Everyone was so busy trying out their new acquired goodies that most of them failed to notice the Inquisitor walking in on them.

"Oh, Your Worship! Great to see you." Krem saluted, along with the rest of the Chargers. "Great fight back in the Wilds, huh?"

"Glad to see you and the Chargers made it out alright, Lieutenant Krem." Rajmael greeted. To look at him and the rest of the Chargers, you'd think they were kids in a candy store. "I see you've decided to celebrate by raiding our latest shipment of arms and armor."

"This is the best equipment we've ever had!" Krem laughed. "Usually we have to pay for our own gear or scavenge what we can from the people we killed. Makes me wish the Inquisition happened years ago." Krem looked at his fellow Chargers as they excitedly picked and tested the new gear.

"Hey, Krem! Check this out!" Iron Bull laughed as he emerged from behind an armor rack. Krem and Rajmael's eyes went wide at the sight of the Bull covered from head to toe in full silverite armor while wearing his signature Dread helmet. He reminded Rajmael of those metallic siege golems the dwarves constructed, except with horns. "What do you think of this? Huh?" The Iron Bull's voice echoed through his armor like he was in a deep cave.

"I don't know, Chief. If you have to wear that much armor, some of us might think you're trying to compensate for something." Krem teased.

"Oh, ha, ha, ha." Bull laughed sarcastically before removing his helmet. "Hey, Boss. Man, that was some fight back in the Arbor Wilds. The way those Red Templars and Venatori assholes acted, they thought they were actually going to win, right before we kicked their asses out of their throats." A shimmer of fond memory glinted in the horned mercenary's single eye as recalled their most recent victory. "Oh, and then fight you had with Samson. Puffing himself up, all high on that red lyrium crap, acting like he was some kind of badass, and then you pulled out the wicked rune Dagna made and beat his ass like the wuss he was. Aside from all that ancient elven magic crap, that was one of the best things I've seen my whole life."

"Hey, Your Worship, is it true what they're saying about that Temple of Mythal?" Krem inquired. "Cause Dalish and Skinner were asking."

"Yes. Everything that anyone could possibly saying is true." Rajmael answered proudly. "That Temple is living proof of my people's history, our greatness. It undoes centuries of Chantry propaganda."

"Oh, man, the Chantry's just going to love that." Iron Bull laughed. "You walk around and change history like it's nothing. Taking names and kicking ass while you do it."

"Well, that's because I had guys like you to pave the way for me." Rajmael chuckled.

"You're the one who makes it all happen, Boss." Iron Bull sighed. "In all my years back in Seheron, I didn't enjoy kicking ass as much as I do now. Thanks for making that possible, Inquisitor."

"We still got one last fight, and it's going to be biggest battle since Aedan Cousland killed the Archdemon. You ready for it?" Rajmael asked grinningly.

"Kill an Archdemon-looking dragon to bring down some Vint-god wannabe asshole? Shit, yeah!" The Bull laughed roaringly. "And hey, everyone! After we kick that Corypheus asshole six feet under, we're all gonna drink 'till we puke, on me!"

"The drinks'll be on you, or you want us to puke on you chief?" Krem asked jokingly.

"Oh, ha, ha, ha. Good one, Krem." Iron Bull laughed sarcastically.

**~XoXoXo~**

It was almost finished. After weeks of long hours of blistering work and painstaking detail, his labor was almost complete. All the effort he had given was definitely worth the result. It had been so long since he had done something like this, and Blackwall was proud to have done something as good as this. This rocking-griffon was without a doubt the best thing he had ever carved. Now he just needed to put on the finishing touches.

"Almost finished I see." Rajmael observed as he walked into the stables.

"Just about." Blackwall confirmed, smiling proudly at his work. "The little ones in the camps don't have anything to play with. Even in the midst of war, they deserve to be children."

"Many people, especially the children of this war, have suffered. It would be good for them to receive such kindness." He was impressed with how well the miniature griffon toy was made. "It's good craftsmanship. I think they'll enjoy it."

"You think so? Been thinking about maybe making more of them, once you've defeated Corypheus." Blackwall started painting the griffon's head.

"You really think that's possible? Even after what we saw back in the Arbor Wilds?"

"You've already pulled off the impossible more than once. You'll find a way." Blackwall said with full confidence. "It's strange. When I think back to that day we met back in the Hinterlands, I never thought my life would be changed so radically. I was thinking that once this was over, I'd go out and make amends for the mistakes I've made. Maker knows I've got a lot to make up for."

"Really? That's a worthy cause to take up."

"Not all that long ago, I never would have considered it." Blackwall confessed. "When you found out about my past and my crimes, you had every reason to leave me to rot or punish me as you saw fit. Instead you gave me a second chance, showed me what honor truly was. There are others who deserve to know that it's possible to get back up, no matter how low you sink, you can still find value in your life. I owe you a lot, Inquisitor."

"Maybe you can deliver toys while your at it? That's another way to give good cheer." Rajmael half-joked.

"What, like every Wintersend I got to people's houses and deliver presents to help spread the holiday spirit? I doubt that could ever catch on." Blackwall laughed. "Do you honestly think people would be glad to see a big bearded man with a sack full of toys showing up to their houses?"

"Try showing up in carriage pulled by halla. I'm sure that'll get people's attention."

**~XoXoXo~**

Cole sat alone on the battlements, perched on the ledge overlooking the inner courtyard like a bird. He had been sitting here ever since they came back through that mirror. This was one of Cole's favorite spots where he did one of his favorite things: watching people. He would watch the soldiers practicing in the training yard while the Chantry sisters debated amongst themselves who would be a better Divine, Cassandra, Leliana or Vivienne. Cole saw Scout Harding sneak around the corner to one of the abandoned battlements with Siobahn Skin-Changer and Captain Isabella, all three women had very excited and playful looks on their faces. Cole really loved to watch Maryden sing her songs with that lovely voice of her, and enjoyed how much happiness her songs brought.

However, right now, Cole wasn't watching to help people. His own mind was plagued by what he saw back at the Temple of Mythal. How Corypheus died, then came back to life. Witnessing that event conflicted with everything Cole thought he knew about the physical world. To be alive then dead, then dead and alive again. This paradox confused Cole, made him question what he thought was supposed to be real.

He felt the familiar aura and spirit of the Inquisitor. He too was conflicted. The truths he learned at the temple hurt him. The truth of the Vallaslin, the cornerstone of the Dalish's identity was nothing what they believed it to be, and it was hurting him.

"Corypheus died, then he didn't. That's why he always felt so wrong." Cole said with appalled confusion. "Like he didn't fit inside himself. He was wearing another man's life. I thought that dying was forever."

"It's supposed to be. What Corypheus does is unnatural and abhorrent. He takes another man's life and wears his body like a suit. It's why he must be stopped." Rajmael responded, his mind filled with disgust at that memory.

Cole rose from his perch and walked back and forth on the battlement in frustration. "Is it possible that...Is it really him? Is he real? If a man can be dead and then not...?" Cole paused and a deep melancholy took hold of him. "Could...Could I have saved the real Cole?"

Rajmael remembered Cole's tale very well. It was not one he could forget, a tragedy that matched his own. Cole, an apostate who suffered horrible abuses from his father, was thrown into the White Spire by the Templars. Instead of getting the help he needed, Cole was forgotten by the very men who imprisoned him, and left alone to starve to death in the dark. Then a Spirit of Compassion came, and mercifully ended his suffering. Then that Spirit of Compassion became Cole.

"What happened to Cole was not your fault. What happened to him was a horrible tragedy, and you were the only one who cared enough to find him." Rajmael assured.

"His hands were bruised, bleeding, broken from beating on the walls. It was dark like the cabinet he used to hide in to escape his father's rage." Cole sat himself back down, the pain and sorrow of remembering was almost too painful. "His belly hurt like knives stabbing him, lips and throat cracked dry from thirst. He was alone, all alone. I pushed through and held his hand. It was all I could do. He said, 'Thank you', and he died." Cole hid his face under his hat, trying to hide the tears on his face as his voice cracked with pain. "Then I became him, even though I'm not. I wear his skin and use his name, like I stole his life."

Rajmael sat right next to the former spirit placed his hand comfortingly on his shoulder. "You are _nothing_ like Corypheus. You did more for Cole than anyone else did. Not the Templars or even his own father. You cared enough to find a single forgotten soul lost in the dark, you were there for him when he needed you. And when you became him, you came here. You helped me so that you could help others. You gave Cole's life meaning."

Cole sniffed and wiped tears from his eyes. The Inquisitor's words helped him. "Thank you. For talking to me, and letting me stay."

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael found Varric at his usual spot near the fireplace. The dwarven merchant sat at his table with a glass of wine, writing in what appeared to be a journal. This was actually the first time Rajmael had ever seen Varric write anything down, despite his fame as a renowned author.

"Writing anything good, Varric? Another love story to bribe Cassandra with?" Rajmael inquired.

Varric looked up from his paper and smiled at the Inquisitor. "Actually, I finally decided to start writing down everything I've seen and done while with the Inquisition. Maker knows if I'll even survive to see the end of it, so I decided to put as much of it as I can to writing."

"What, you don't think you'll survive one last battle against Corypheus?"

Varric sighed deeply, but didn't take his eyes off his paper. "Inquisitor, despite my masculine good looks and irresistible chest hair, I'm still just a businessman with a crossbow. Surviving that trip to the Deep Roads, my first encounter with Corypheus, then the Qunari Invasion and Meredith, that was a miracle, thanks in no small part to Hawke. Ever since I've been with this Inquisition, my luck has held out. Haven, Adamant, a resurrected Avvar god, the Temple of Mythal, well, eventually my luck's gonna wear out."

"So you want to make sure that this story is written before you run out of luck?"

"There's a little more to it than that." Varric assured. "When Cassandra first tracked me down, she was so certain beyond a shadow of doubt that Hawke was responsible for everything that led up to the Mage-Templar War. She was so certain of his guilt that I had to tell Hawke's story to make her see the truth. If I die, I don't want to leave the same mistake with your story. I may lie and bullshit with every third breath, but I don't want people getting the wrong impression with the hero who saved the world."

"And what will your story say?"

"The truth. You know, the real truth about the Inquisitor." Varric answered with a hint of honesty in his voice that was rarer and more precious the gemstones. "How the Inquisitor was a Dalish tribesman, and damned proud of it. That you didn't declare this Inquisition for the Chantry or because you believed that Andraste chose you, you simply did it because someone had to put the world back together. You were the ultimate mix of might and magic, swordsmanship and sorcery, the Elder One's forces never stood a chance. And not matter how bad things got and all the power you accumulated, you never compromised your principles, you were a real hero when the world needed one."

"That...honors me more than you can imagine. Thank you, Varric." Rajmael nodded his head in respect, deeply touched by his friends words.

"It's been an honor, Inquisitor. Bianca and I will be ready when you need us."

**~XoXoXo~**

If there was any constant in these turbulent times of change and chaos, it was that no matter what was happening outside these walls, Rajmael could almost always find Josephine sitting at her desk scribbling over letters, important documents, or promissory papers. Today was no different it seemed. Josephine was setting ink to paper with more intent than she usually did.

"Still keeping yourself busy I see." Rajmael mused.

"Actually, for once I'm not burying myself in my work." Josephine confessed. "I'm writing a letter back to Antiva City to my Mama and Papa. Even now, people are singing of our victory in the Arbor Wilds, and I know my parents will be relieved to know that I am safe."

"Given everything that has happened, I'm sure they'll be happy to hear from you. And after everything you've done, I know your parents will be proud of what you've done for this Inquisition."

"I thought, given the circumstances, now would probably be the best time to let my family know that I am well, and that I love them all so very much." Josephine continued. "It comes swiftly. The final battle between good and evil, when the Inquisitor faces down the mad darkspawn that would become a god. Defeat him, and your name will be know throughout eternity. You will be a legend."

Rajmael almost blushed at that notion. "I hope your name is written next to mine in every song and story. I doubt this Inquisition would have gotten as far as it did without someone like you around to bolster our reputation and bring respect to our name."

"And there is the respect and modesty that we have all come to admire." The Ambassador said with deep admiration. "Everyone, myself included, joined the Inquisition because we had heard that you had been blessed by Andraste, even though you continue to deny that claim. But we all stayed because of how you led us, who you were." Josephine's bright smile could have lit up an entire room. "Thedas has many leaders, some great and others not, but nowhere, in any court or kingdom, is there anyone like you. May you find victory in the light, Inquisitor."

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael wasn't surprised to see Leliana praying before her small shrine to Andraste in the rookery, but he was somewhat surprised to see mother Giselle there with her. He was used to seeing the Revered Mother walking in Skyhold's garden, administering her faith and wisdom to other members of her faith. Perhaps she and Leliana were discussing the Chantry. The prospect seemed likely.

"Greeting, Inquisitor." Mother Giselle welcomed, rising from her prayers.

"Good day." Rajmael returned politely.

"I had heard about the events that happened at the Temple of Mythal. It sounds magnificent. We should send scholars to study it when this is all over." The Chantry Mother suggested, much to Rajmael's surprise.

"I never thought a Chantry Mother would take interest in a temple dedicated to an elven god." Rajmael said skeptically.

"Whether your gods are merely myths or simply aspects of what we call the Maker, they are worth studying, to better help us understand our world and our place in it." Mother Giselle explained. "The faithful should not fear the truths that we might discover."

"I'm sorry, but no. I cannot allow that." Rajmael's face was as hard and cold as the mountains. "The elves have learned too well that when the Chantry wants to 'study' anything of ours, it means they want to steal from us. Even though it has only just been rediscovered, that temple is sacred beyond all measure to my people. It can teach us so much about our history that has been forgotten. Our heritage and culture is not some quaint study for your scholars to poke and prod at like a dead corpse."

"I understand your reservations, Inquisitor, and I would be lying to say that they are unfounded." Giselle agreed quietly. "I confess that the temple's discovery has already turned many of the Grand Clerics on their ears, many of them wish to deny its very existence."

"And it's for that reason that we would like to speak with you, Inquisitor." Leliana joined in. There was a certain kind of hope in her eyes. "Mother Giselle and I have been discussing my candidacy for being Divine. Is it so ridiculous that the Grand Clerics would support me? Why shouldn't they?"

"And what would you do with the power that comes with being Divine?" Rajmael asked and began smoking his pipe.

"Change things. Change everything." Leliana answered with hopeful enthusiasm, like a child saying what they wanted to be when they grew up. "Your open support for the mages was a good thing, we must build on this. No more Circles, no more prisons. The mages will be free, and the Chantry will accept them as the Maker's children."

"You honestly think that the other Grand Clerics, or mages like Vivienne, will just accept something like that? I have my doubts."

"Of course there will be difficulty, but that shouldn't stop of us from trying. You've proven that change is possible, and that it's the only way for the world to move forward." Leliana continued, her enthusiasm undaunted. "And we shouldn't just stop there. It will accept everyone. Elves, dwarves, even qunari. Why exclude them? The Chantry allows our differences to tear us apart, instead of teaching us that we are the same."

Rajmael chuckled sarcastically with smoke puffing from between his teeth. "Leliana, you're smoking something a lot better than what I've got in my pipe right here if you think that anyone, especially other Andrastians, will ever accept that."

"Why? Because it conflicts with age-old beliefs? There are many good people in Thedas who merely need to be shown what they right path is." Leliana insisted fervently. "The Chantry was a beacon of hope to me once. It can be once again, for me and so many others. In my years in Lothering, we turned no one away from our doors. It was a refuge, a place of peace. I felt the Maker's presence and his love, even though others said He'd left us. This is the Chantry I know, the Chantry I wish the world to see."

"Yeah, you're definitely smoking something, Leliana." Rajmael said sardonically, taking another drag from his sylvanwood pipe. "What you described just now, is not the Chantry I have seen, the Chantry that everyone knows."

"And that is why it needs to _change_." Leliana asserted. "The Chantry dictated where it should have inspired. Passed judgment when it should have accepted. We created bigotry by demonizing mages, made enemies by brutalizing elves and belittling dwarves. If the Chantry is to survive this crisis, it must have a Divine willing to see these truths and make sure we do not repeat the same mistakes we have done for centuries."

"To this end, Inquisitor, we wish to know if we can count on your support." Mother Giselle spoke. "Your word would greatly ease the proceedings and sway many of the Grand Clerics to endorse Leliana."

And so the whole reason behind this conversation was revealed. Rajmael took a very long drag of his pipe, letting the smoke and aroma of the herbs fill his lungs, then slowly exhaled it in a pillar of black out of his nostrils, before giving his answer in two very small, but very final sentence. "No, I refuse."

The Revered Mother and Spymaster were struck completely dumbfounded. How could he just refuse?

"Inquisitor, I know that you bare the Chantry a grudge, and you have every right to. After everything that I just said that the Chantry did, I would find it difficult for anyone who has suffered because of the Chantry to forgive us simple because we said we're sorry." Leliana said with sympathy and understanding. "But as the Inquisitor, you have an obligation to those who look to you for guidance, to rebuild this world. And that includes the many thousands of Andrastian who look to you for faith."

"Their faith is not my concern, Leliana, it never was. I did not dedicate my role as Inquisitor to the rebuilding of the Chantry, or shepherding the faithful. I accepted this role to restore order." Rajmael reminded. "And don't forget this Leliana, there's not just Andrastians under my command, but also Dalish, dwarves of the Stone, Avvar and even Qunari. This Inquisition was not founded to place any one faith over another's."

"Without a Divine, there can be no Chantry, and all the kingdoms that adhere to it will squabble and war with one another over any and everything." Leliana argued. "And even if the Grand Clerics finally agree on a different candidate for Divine, there's no guarantee that she'll not put things back to the way they were before."

"The Chantry has a chance now for real change. To be what it was always meant to be." Mother Giselle added. "You could help accomplish this. Your predecessor, Inquisitor Ameridan..."

"Ameridan was a naïve fool! I am neither!" Rajmael shouted furiously. "He let his friendship with Kordilius Drakon and his idealism blind him! He didn't see that the Chantry was built on blood, by stamping out anyone who didn't obey its dogma. And in his blindness in bringing the Inquisition into the Chantry, Ameridan helped bring about my people's destruction. And for a second time, a great human power was created on bones and destruction of my people. I will _not_ repeat his mistake!"

"Every thing you've said is true. I will not deny that." Leliana sighed. "But now there is a chance for renewal. For something new, something better to replace the old Chantry dogma. But it cannot be accomplished without help."

"I will _**never**_ serve the Chantry!" Rajmael hissed vehemently. "You have no right to ask this of me. You want the Chantry rebuilt, but my people are still broken. You say the Chantry gave you light, but it gave me fire! It brought you peace while it brought me destruction! How can you say that the Chantry is able to guide anyone to righteousness when it creates people like Meredith and Samson!?"

That condemnation stunned Leliana. It was harsh, even cruel, but it was almost impossible to deny. The Chantry's harsh treatment and unfair, even fanatical teachings are what created Meredith, who in turn created Samson. Both of whom committed terrible atrocities that led to the destruction of countless lives. It wouldn't be unfair to say that everything that happened was just as much the Chantry's fault as it was Corypheus'. Leliana still believed with all her heart and soul in the good the Chantry could do and that it deserved to be saved. Rajmael, however, did not. And as one who suffered so much thanks to the Chantry, Leliana truly did not have the right to ask this of him.

"I..._cannot_ help the Chantry, Leliana. It's crimes against me and my people are too severe."

"I see." Leliana said, finally accepting defeat. "Then we will simply have to find a way without you."

Rajmael breathed the anger out his lungs and regained his composure. He didn't want to sound like a stubborn ass, but this was the truth. He didn't have it in him to serve something that had brought him so much pain. "If you wish to restore the Chantry, Leliana, then that is for _you_ and those like you to achieve it. If the faithful of the Chantry cannot bring about the change it needs, then that change is meaningless. I cannot help you in this. If I do, I'd be turning my back on my own people." That was Rajmael's greatest fear.

"My faith in the Maker has brought me this far, Inquisitor. I know it will take me further, where I need to be." Leliana assured, finally letting the matter go. "I will become Divine, and I will show the world the same love it showed me. And I will show you what the Chantry is meant to be."

**~XoXoXo~**

The wayward Tevinter altus sat alone in the familiar surrounding of the Inquisition library which had become his haunt. His eyes glided over the pages and words written in Brother Genitivi's book "A Study of Ancient Thedas". Dorian had read this book so many times that he could almost recite it by heart. Yet as familiar as the book was, he may as well have never read it in the first place. Everything written in this book, every piece of history that almost every one in Thedas knew was a lie. For over two thousand years everyone throughout the known world knew that the Ancient Imperium destroyed the Elvhen Empire when they sank Arlathan beneath the earth, yet everything he saw at the Temple of Mythal undid centuries of what everyone was led to believe, everything his country was built on.

Dorian couldn't help but be conflicted on the matter. The decency in him demanded that he be relived that his ancestors were not actually responsible for something so horrid. Yet the Tevinter in him couldn't help but feel outrage and shame, wishing that everything he learned at the temple was a lie because of how profanely it smeared the Imerium's image, their history.

The Tevinter mage felt the strong and familiar presence of magic that could only belong to the Inquisitor. Not that he needed to sense his magic to know it was him, Dorian, and probably the whole keep, just got done hearing the little tirade the Inquisitor had with Leliana and Mother Giselle about supporting the Chantry. It didn't sound like Rajmael was keen to oblige them that particular matter.

"Reading something interesting, Dorian?" The Inquisitor asked.

"A Study of Ancient Thedas, by Brother Genitivi. A personal favorite, or at least it used to be." Dorian closed the book shut and set it on the nearby nightstand. "It got me thinking. I should go back, shouldn't I. To Tevinter. Once this is over...and if I'm still alive." Dorian walked over to the railing, an upset look on his face, his voice bitter. "All my talk about how terrible things are back home, and what have I ever done to change it? Nothing!"

Rajmael could guess what was bothering him. "Is this because of what we learned at the Temple of Mythal?

"That elf, Abelas, he said it wasn't the Imperium that destroyed the elves. My people, my countrymen, would never accept that, even _I_ can barely accept that. My country's whole ego, our pride comes from us being able to destroy the elves. To say otherwise would reduce us to scavengers. It would destroy our legacy, no matter how terrible." Dorian answered with a hint of bitterness in his voice. "But we should accept it, knock the arrogance in our history down a peg, and confront that terrible legacy hanging over us like a dark cloud. Maybe not all of us want to, but that could be altered. If you can change minds, so can I."

Rajmael understood how Dorian felt right now. He himself was going to have to give the truth to his people the real history behind the vallaslin, and knew how much so many would reject and be crushed by the revelation. But he knew the importance of the truth and that it needed to be confronted, not hidden or ignored. Dorian understood this as well.

"Dorian, you came here, sought me out and gave this Inquisition everything you had when owed the South absolutely nothing." Rajmael reminded sincerely, recalling every battle and ordeal the Tevinter necromancer had been in ever since they first met in Redcliffe. "If anyone is capable of making your country finally open its eyes, I know you can."

"Thank you for saying that." Dorian smiled with adoration in his eyes. "You're my inspiration, you know? Seeing you, a Dalish elf, accomplish the things you've done, win the battles you've fought...If someone like you can pull off the impossible, then maybe a wayward pariah like me can do something similar."

"As someone who's still facing the impossible, let me know if there's anything I can do to make your crusade any easier than mine." Rajmael chuckled before turning to leave.

"Wait." Dorian urged, halting the Inquisitor's departure. "I...I know that what we learned at the temple is tearing you up inside, Rajmael." Dorian rarely called the Inquisitor by his name, but that's how serious he was. "I know saying that nobody's perfect would be meaningless, so let me say this: I look at my people now, and I wish we were more like yours, that we had more people like you. In Tevinter, we try to relive our ancient glory, even though most of it is terrible, and trying to relive that ancient glory has brought us nothing brought ruin. We're still trying to relive the past and make the same mistakes. But your people have shed the mistakes and atrocities of your past. You find value in every piece of history you find, and in one another. If my people were more like your, I think the world would be better for it."

Rajmael sighed deeply. He never thought to hear something like that from Dorian, but was glad he did. For a human from Tevinter to give him lessons on acceptance and inner-peace? The world must truly becoming to an end.

"You know, it's funny, Dorian." Rajmael chuckled dryly. "Not at all that long ago, I never would have dreamed that I could call a mage from Tevinter my friend. But I am glad that you are."

"The honor has been all mine, Inquisitor." Dorian smiled.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael made his way down to the rotunda at the bottom of the library tower, where Solas had just finished adding their latest exploit to the elven styled fresca mural he worked on. Rajmael was always impressed by how well and how quickly Solas was able to paint something as grand as this. He also impressed by Solas' mastery of what many believed to have been a lost art, something that elves hadn't had the chance to practice in centuries. Yet another skill Solas learned from his studies in the Fade.

The latest addition to the mural depicted two opposing warriors standing before their respective armies. One was an elven warrior in white holding two swords with the mark of the Inquisition behind him, the other was a human in red armor armed with a red greatsword. These were obviously depictions of Rajmael and Samson leading their armies. Both leaders stood either side of a golden prize that stood in the middle of the mural, the Well of Sorrows. Standing over the Well, and leaning over to drink, was a depiction of a black raven, which Rajmael guessed was meant to represent Morrigan taking the Well's knowledge. The mural was aesthetically pleasing to look at and was accurately depicted, yet brought Rajmael bitter feelings of self-loathing and loss to look at it. Rajmael still couldn't believe he let someone else take what should have belonged to his people.

Solas finished applying the final touches to the mural before wiping the paint from his fingers. There was an air of sadness about him that almost matched Rajmael's.

"The Temple of Mythal was extraordinary. In all my journeys, I never would have dreamed to find anything like it." Solas spoke softly, turning his attention from his mural and to the Inquisitor. "What will you do with the power of the Well once Corypheus is dead?"

Rajmael looked at Solas as though he told a joke in bad taste. "The power of the Well? Solas, I let that power slip through my fingers and let another person take it, someone we both had reason to distrust. What could _I_ possibly do with any power the Well had?"

"You underestimate your own influence, even as nations and sovereigns heed your will and seek your favor." Solas reminded. "The power of the Well may still yet be under your sway, even if you think otherwise."

"I'm not sure I want to even be _here_ when this is all over, Solas." Rajmael groaned.

"Indulge me. Please." Solas insisted.

Rajmael sighed wearily. It seemed a pointless question with a meaningless answer, but he would humor the older elf. "If I had the power of the Well...I don't know. I'd...Too much has changed. Everything that has happened, all that will happen once Corypheus is dead, proves that we can't go back to the way things were before. I'll do what I can to help this world move forward. To prevent us from repeating the same mistakes that led us here in the first place."

"That's it? You would risk everything in the hope that the future is better?" Solas asked incredulously with a bitter scowl on his face. "What if it isn't? What if you wake up one morning and find the future you've shaped is worse than what was?"

"Speaking from personal experience are you?" Rajmael said skeptically.

"I...I have seen many such attempts in the memories of the Fade." Solas answered sadly, a look of nostalgia and memory glinting in his eyes. "Foolish, naïve young men with more power than they deserved vainly trying to build a better world for themselves only to end up failing and creating something even worse. Is that what you want?"

"What I want, Solas, is a world where my daughter won't have to suffer how I suffered, or see the things I have seen." Rajmael answered with earnest hope. "Hoping, trying everyday for a better future is the core of the elven spirit. And if I stop simply because I'm afraid to fail, then everything that Junnarel, Nethras, and my parents died for will be for nothing. If we quit, we lose we everything we are and what we could gain."

Solas smiled hopefully, but sadness still lingered in his eyes. "You're right. Thank you."

"For what?"

"You have not been what I expected, Rajmael. You have...impressed me. More so than I could have ever expected. You truly represent all that is best in our people." Solas spoke with a respect he had never given anyone in all the time Rajmael knew him. "You've reminded that if one keeps trying, even if the consequences are grave, that someday the world will be better." The older elf paused for a moment, his sadness still present. "Forgive my melancholy. Corypheus has cost us much. The Temple of Mythal did not deserve such a fate. The Orb he carries, and it's stolen power, that we may at least still recover. With luck, some of the past may yet survive."

The past. The Temple of Mythal. All Rajmael could think about right now was the Well of Sorrows, and what he could gained from it.

"Did I make the right choice, Solas? Letting someone else take the knowledge from the Well?" Rajmael asked earnestly, hoping that Solas could give him an answer. "All the knowledge that I could have gained. What could have given our people..."

"I understand what you're feeling, Inquisitor. More than you realize." Solas assuaged. "But you know the price such power demands, it takes more than it gives. And we cannot afford the Well stripping you of who you are to be Mythal's servant."

"You don't even believe in the elven gods, yet you're relieved that I am not bound to one?" Rajmael scoffed.

"I do not believe that they were gods, no. But I _do_ believe that they existed." Solas clarified ardently. "Spirits, or mages, or something else entirely that we have never encountered. And their favor may have been powerful but so were their prices. You had the wisdom to not take the power, despite what you may have gained. You respected the price such things demand, and that is worth more than the Well itself. And I have no doubt that Morrigan will find that the price the Well's power demands more than she is willing to give, and it's a price you shouldn't have to pay. You do not deserve such a fate."

There was one more thing that was bothering Rajmael. Another question he had, but was afraid of the answer what he had learned there, and how it may effect his people. "Solas? What Abelas said at the temple, was it true? Was the vallaslin really used to mark those that served? Was it truly used as a slave brand?"

"I'm sorry, but yes. It's true." Solas answered sadly but honestly. "In ancient Arlathan, nobles would brand their slaves with the marks of the gods they favored. I am sorry, Inquisitor."

"Yeah, right. Just one more thing my people got wrong, right? Another tale we repeated wrong a thousand times. All these centuries we've been telling people that this is what true elves wear, that this is what separates us from elves like Sera, thinking they're no better than humans, when all this time we were mistaken." Rajmael's said spitefully. He almost felt unclean, resentful, and full of hatred with himself. His whole life he devoted himself to the rediscovery and truth of his people's history, and this is what he has to show for it. "It's sickeningly funny. Of all the things we've lost, the knowledge we've forgotten, the only thing we've managed to keep is a reminder of a time when we were no better than Tevinter."

Rajmael turned to leave, his scorn painted more clearly than Solas' mural.

"Inquisitor, wait." Solas bade apprehensively. "I know that learning this is painful for you, but you don't have to live with it. During my travels in the Fade, I learned of a spell that certain...rebels would use to remove the vallaslin from freed slaves. I could remove it if you want. You don't need to live the rest of your life wearing a mark of shame."

Remove the vallaslin? That was possible? Rajmael traced his fingers over the ink on his face. Would anyone who knew him recognize him without it? Would he be able to recognize himself? Perhaps it would be better if it was removed. It's true origin was that of a slave brand, a representation of shame and everything his people stood against. Maybe it would be better removed and forgotten. Rajmael thought he had his answer, then he remembered something he had almost forgotten.

The day he and Nethras received their vallaslin early was one of the proudest days of his life. He remembered how Keeper Deshana skillfully bestowed the marks on their faces as Junnarel and Ariva looked on with pride. They were so proud Ariva almost wept. Evanura once promised to marry whichever of them managed to earn their vallaslin first, but now she had two handsome warriors to choose from. Rajmael remembered why he chose the mark he had worn with pride for so long and what it meant to him.

"No, Solas. I will _never_ remove the vallaslin." Rajmael answered firmly and without disgrace. "I am not an elf of Arlathan. I the First of Clan Lavellan and an Arcane Warrior of the Dalish people. The vallaslin is a part of who we are, it declares the path we have chosen to follow in life, and proves we have a people to belong to." The Inquisitor looked to Solas, the shame and bitterness he felt was gone. "We've lost too much to just discard our history because it isn't as perfect as we want would. It would only lessen us further and teach us nothing. We've moved on from the mistakes of our ancestors and outgrew them. The Dalish took a mark of shame and turned it into our sign of pride. And that makes us greater than the ancient elves."

Solas was surprised. He could not have predicted such a reaction nor so wise an answer. "It would seem that I have once again been proven wrong about the Dalish. It is a welcome feeling. Your wisdom does the people credit, Inquisitor. Thank you."

**~XoXoXo~**

The Inquisitor stood outside Skyhold, seeking solidarity. He stood by the lonely cliff overlooking the keep where he buried Nethras. The vhenadhal tree he planted there was growing strong. From here, he had the entire view over the Frostback Mountains. He looked down into the mountain valley where most of the soldiers, refugees and pilgrims had made their campsite. Most of the enormous camp was still empty, many of the people who occupied it were still making their way back from the Arbor Wilds. Rajmael could see some of the soldiers making their way back, but it was a slow return. Rajmael regretted that soon he would have to send them back into battle when Corypheus made his move.

"I thought I would find you here." Said a familiar and welcome voice.

Cassandra made her way up the path and stopped to admire Nethras' vhenadhal before standing next to Rajmael. Whenever he was nowhere to be found in the keep, she knew to find him here. It was quiet, and the view of the mountains was spectacular. It was certainly a perfect place to forget one's troubles. There was not a doubt in Cassandra's mind that Rajmael was very troubled right now, and she wanted to be there for him.

"I heard about the...conversation you had with Leliana and Mother Giselle." Cassandra informed gently.

"Cassandra..." Rajmael sighed.

"No. You do not need to explain yourself. I understand." Cassandra said sympathetically. "Because you're right. It should be up to the faithful to restore our Chantry. We shouldn't force others to do that for us. The Chantry has done too much of that in our history."

"After everything we saw, everything I did in the Temple of Mythal, you would still accept me as I am, what I believe in?" Rajmael asked more concerned than curious, knowing how devout Cassandra was to the Andrastian faith.

Cassandra looked at her lover with a gentleness she had never shown anyone. "Rajmael, being with you has shown me how wrong we were about your people, how wrong _I_ was. You have shown a wisdom and devotion that I wish I could see in most members of the Chantry. Your people and beliefs are a magnificent part of this world, and it was wrong of us to ever think otherwise." Cassandra gently took Rajmael's hand and lovingly cupped it to her face. Where once it was blanketed in a horrible burn scar, it was now completely healed thanks to the magic of the elven temple. Cassandra basked in the warmth and feeling of his hand against her cheek. "Nothing so wonderful, so capable of such marvelous things could ever be evil.

Rajmael brought Cassandra's face to his in a loving and gentle kiss. Cassandra's arms wrapped around his neck while his coiled her waist, deepening their embrace. Rajmael could never get enough of how soft and warm her lips were. Cassandra loved how safe Rajmael's arms made her feel. Like she didn't need to be a warrior in full armor to be protected. All she needed was him.

The Seeker paused to take in the mountain's breathtaking beauty and hugged herself to the Inquisitor. "We stand upon the precipice of change. Once Corypheus is defeated, the world will never be the same. I hope that it's a better one."

"None of this would ever have come to pass if you didn't have the courage to defy the Chantry and declare the Inquisition." Rajmael reminded smilingly. "How does it feel to know that you'll now be one of the most important women in all of history? No to mention on of the most beautiful."

"M-my part was very small. As I recall, we would have gotten nowhere if you weren't there to lead us." Cassandra stammered bashfully trying to avert her eyes as she blushed an adorable shade of red. Even now, the way he always gave that look made her heart race. "When we first met, I never could have imagined this. To see the world change so much, victory so close at hand. Nor could I have ever dreamed that I would come to love you as much as I do now."

"When Evanura died, I thought all chances of finding love died with her. The only thing that kept me going was raising Eva." Rajmael spoke his heart out, his liquid golden eyes full of emotion. "Then after meeting you, seeing the woman you truly are, I found that love again. Now I have two women in my life I can't live without. Eva, and you."

Cassandra felt her knees go weak and her heart fluttering inside her chest. His words brought her more joy and fulfillment than anything she had heard sung in a Chantry. "No matter what comes next, whatever Corypheus plans, or the future may hold, I want to stay by your side." Cassandra brought Rajmael close to her again, with deep longing in her eyes. "I'm so glad you told me that I hit like a Nevarran girl."

"So am I." Rajmael held Cassandra close to him, pouring all the love and affection he had for the Nevarran princess into a deep and tender kiss.

The two lovers from different races and religions came together in tender, passionate embrace. At this moment, there was no danger, or Corypheus. Just a man and the woman he loved. Just one last moment of peace before the oncoming storm.

**Author's Note:**

**Alright. So here's the latest chapter.**

**Sorry it took almost a month to update, but at least it wasn't two months this time.**

**Still busy, but I sure as hell am not going to stop now.**

**Please review and give me your thoughts.**

**Up next is Armageddon.**


	36. Apologies

**Author's Note**

**Sorry if what has happened as confused some of you. For those of you who have tried to post a review but can't, that is my fault. I had to remove the previous Chapter 36 because it was against the site's policy. I will put this note in its place, and post my actual update as Chapter 37. **

**Please review and tell me what you think. This chapter was the longest and most time consuming of any chapter I have ever written and I would love to know your thoughts and critique. Please accept my apologies and thank you all.**

**Sincerely and emphatically, **

**Powerslammer.**


	37. Armageddon

** Armageddon**

With his business with his Councilors and companions finished, and after sharing one last tender moment with Cassandra, Rajmael finally made his way to Morrigan's private room where she kept her eluvian. Whatever secrets the Well of Sorrows had was now the key to Corypheus' defeat, and as much it pained Rajmael to know this, Morrigan was the only one now who knew what those secrets are.

A wave of shock smashed down on the Inquisitor when he entered Morrigan's chamber. The first surprise was finding Leliana there instead of Morrigan, but the greater shock came from seeing the eluvian activated. A strange and extreme amount of power was surging from the magic mirror like a tidal wave.

"Leliana, what happened?!"

"Inquisitor! Thank the Maker you're here." Leliana answered with worriedly. "Morrigan ran into the mirror after Kieran. She said he somehow activated it. I've never seen her so frightened."

"What? Kieran? How could he...? Never mind." How could a child like Kieran possibly activate a relic like an eluvian? Rajmael pushed the thought from his mind and focused on what was happening. "I'm going after them. Leliana, explain what happened to the others and makes sure nothing happens."

"Be careful, Inquisitor." The Spymaster bade.

Rajmael strapped his sword to his belt and ran into the eluvian. Whatever power activated this relic and brought Kieran through it, Rajmael had no doubt he might need his weapon.

**~XoXoXo~**

The Inquisitor emerged from the other side of the eluvian as easy as a doorway, but was dumbstruck to find where he now stood. Instead finding himself at the Crossroads with all the shattered or dormant mirrors and the strange colors glittering in the air that only elven eyes could see, he found himself standing in a nightmarish place that was alien yet so familiar. It was like he was trapped in a maze-like canyon surrounded by veins of lyrium and streams of vile green liquid. The green sky cracked with red thunder as a strange light with no sun fell to the ground. It was almost exactly like being in the realm of the Nightmare back at Adamant Fortress. Once again, Rajmael was standing physically in the Fade.

"This...this is impossible. How did the mirror take us here?" So many questions were flying in Rajmael's head like a flock of birds. From what he understood about the eluvians, each mirror could only lead to a single destination depending on the key that was used on it. How could a mere boy of ten years possibly have summoned enough power to have the eluvian bring them physically into the Fade? This was Corypheus' goal, and he had spent all the power he had gathered to get it, only to fail. Yet Kieran walked here like it was nothing. How?

Rajmael had to push the questions out of his mind. If they were in the Fade right now, and if it was anything like what he saw back in Adamant, Morrigan and Kieran could both be in terrible danger. The Inquisitor marched further into the dream world, searching for any sign of the child or his mother.

Rajmael heard something echoing through the stony walls of this realm. A voice, familiar and desperate, calling a name over and over. Kieran. Kieran. Kieran! He looked ahead and saw the Chasind woman crying desperately into the massive void of the Fade, tears verging in her golden eyes, hoping that her son could hear her.

"Morrigan!" The Inquisitor called.

"Go back! You cannot be here..." Morrigan bade. She was trying so hard to keep calm, but like any mother, she deathly concerned about her child's safety. "Why would Kieran do this? _How_ could he do this?"

"We can still find him, Morrigan. But we must search together, he couldn't have gotten far." Rajmael tried to assure. For all that he might feel about Morrigan, he too was a parent, and the thought of losing Eva was his greatest fear. He couldn't let such a thing happen to Morrigan.

"This is the Fade, Inquisitor. Kieran could literally be anywhere. If he is lost to me now after all that I've sacrificed..." Morrigan's voice cracked with pain and tear of heartbreak escaped her eye. She wiped the tear away and tried to regain her composure. Now was not the time for weakness, not when her son was in danger. "Please, Inquisitor. Please, just a little longer. Help me find my son."

The two mages walked further into the strange realm. There weren't any demons here to attack them like there was the last time Rajmael was here, so that was promising. It meant that Kieran was also not being attacked. However, Rajmael's tracking skills were useless in a realm where the laws of physics meant nothing, and in the Fade, trusting only one's eyes could prove fatal.

"Inquisitor, look." Morrigan pointed to a spirit, a simple observer, looking directly at them. It looked like it was beckoning to them. There were other spirits nearby, all floating away from them, but this one hovered in place as if it wanted their attention.

"I think it wants us to follow it." Rajmael guessed. It seemed he was right. The spirit quickly made off, but not so fast that they couldn't keep up with it. The further they went, the more spirits they found were flying in the same direction, like something was calling them there. It looked like the spirits were trying to lead them to another clearing amongst the maze of this place.

Rajmael noticed something particularly strange about the region they were walking towards. There was no longer any streams of filthy liquid, but streams of crimson blood, Rajmael couldn't decide which was worse. Ruined statues of Tevinter dragons littering the ground like some terrible disaster had struck them down. But what really caught Rajmael's attention was the statues that depicted, yet at the same time, defaced the elven Creators.

Dirthamen was kneeling forward with a sword shoved through his back and out of his chest. Andruil had been cast to the ground, her body riddled with arrows. Falon'din was struck down, his body broken into pieces while Sylaise was being devoured by crows and dogs. He saw Elgar'nan standing tall with his hand held out, carrying his own severed head. Rivers of blood surged from the Creators' open wounds and pained mouths. Rajmael could scarcely believe he was witnessing such sacrilege. Was this part of the Fade directed towards elven hatred?

The spirits gathered around in the clearing like a grand chorus, watching with deep intent at the outsiders who had come to their realm. In the middle of the clearing stood Kieran, safe and whole. But there was someone else there. A figure that Rajmael didn't recognize, but these spirits were looking at the most.

"There he is!" Morrigan sighed in relief.

"Who is that with him?"

"That's...no. No it can't be!" Morrigan gasped, terror and disbelief clutching her heart.

The two of them entered the clearing, the spirits watching all of them closely as they approached Kieran and the woman who summoned them all here. She stood tall with a sense of grace that belayed her age. There was an air of authority surrounding her that could put Vivienne to shame. Her white hair was styled and held in a fashion that was reminiscent to dragon horns and wore a strange metallic headpiece that pointed skyward like a horn the fit with her armor and leather robe, furthering her draconic appearance. There was something very familiar about this woman, but Rajmael couldn't figure out what.

There was something more to this woman than her appearance, obviously. Whoever she was, Rajmael could feel his sword hand twitching. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that she was dangerous. Surrounding this mysterious figure was an aura of magic that Rajmael didn't know existed. Something very ancient and powerful. All most as if she was constructed purely of magic, like a spirit only more powerful. Whoever she was, Rajmael could feel Morrigan's magic starting to flare up dangerously. Who was she?

The woman was kneeling before Kieran, and the boy looked like he was bestowing some kind of magic energy to her. What was this? Kieran ceased what he was doing when he noticed the Inquisitor and his mother approaching. He was so calm, despite being in the Fade. As though the dangers of this place meant nothing to him, nor the worry of his mother.

"Mother!" Kieran cried happily, a wide smile on his young face.

"Mother..." The word escaped Morrigan's lips like poison, her golden eyes glaring dangerously at the older woman standing next to her child.

Mother? That's who this woman was? This was Asha'bellanar? Yes, Rajmael could see the similarities between the two witches. Their features, their eyes, even the same air of arrogance that made Rajmael want slap them both. Every Dalish in every clan, especially the mages were aware of the Woman of Many Years, and knew to be cautious of her. Rajmael's hand gripped his sword on instinct. What the hell was going on here?

"Now, isn't this a surprise?" The legendary Witch of the Wilds chuckled with a beguiling yet fierce voice.

"I thought that the stories about you stealing children were nothing more than the frightened foolishness of shemlen fishwives." Rajmael scoffed. "But it seems that all tales do in fact stem from truth."

"Nonsense." Flemeth refuted indignantly. "He came seeking me out all on his own, like any good grandson." Flemeth patted the boy on the head with a look of affection in her eyes. "So clever and polite. Perhaps it's from his father's side of the family? I doubt my Morrigan could raise my grandson to be such a good lad."

"Kieran is not your grandson. Let him go!" Morrigan demanded viciously.

"As if I were holding the boy hostage. Forgive my Morrigan, she's always been so ungrateful, you see." The witch said to the Inquisitor as though she were chiding Morrigan like a six-year old in front of a guest.

"Ungrateful!" Morrigan spat hatefully. "I know how you plan to extend your life, wicked crone!

"Extends her life? What are you talking about?" Rajmael questioned. Many Dalish mages wondered how Asha'bellanar, a human, has been able to live on for so many centuries. Many of them knew suspected it was some form of bloodmagic, or that she was possessed by some kind of powerful demon.

"During the Blight, I discovered that Flemeth extends her unnatural lifespan by possessing the bodies of her daughters." Morrigan hissed with hate and betrayal. "A fate she had intended for me. If Aedan hadn't intervened, I do not doubt she would have succeeded."

Rajmael looked at the witch completely stunned. He couldn't help but be surprised even though he should not have been. The Dalish were very aware of Asha'bellanar's dark and fickle nature. She'd either offer aid to those who sought her, or kill them horribly and leave pieces of their bodies hanging from the trees. But as a parent, Rajmael could not comprehend a mother, no matter who they were, doing such a thing to her own flesh and blood for her own gain. Flemeth was truly a vile creature indeed.

"Ah, yes. Your beloved Hero of Ferelden. The handsome noble with the tattoos on his face. I still remember the sting of that Starmetal blade of his being shoved through my skull." Flemeth chuckled as she rubbed her forehead, remembering the horrible pain that once dwelled there. "Alas, it seems he is not here, mores the pity. No son should grow up without a father. But then, you never needed a father in your life."

Morrigan became outraged the more her ghastly mother spoke. Rajmael could feel her magic beginning to flare. His hand gripped his sword, ready to fight. Ready for anything.

"Don't you _dare_ speak of Aedan in front of me! You will not have me, and you will not have my son!" Morrigan raised her hands and an aura of green magic enveloped them as she prepared to unleash a destructive spell on her hated mother. There was enough energy in that spell to knock down a giant.

"Now that's quite enough. You'll endanger the boy." Flemeth chided and waved her hand as though she were giving an order to a servant, and against her will, Morrigan hands were forced down and her powerful spell was negated. It was as if some invisible force had halted Morrigan dead in her tracks.

Morrigan was stunned and bewildered. How could this have happened? She looked at Flemeth with fear and shock in her voice. "What...what have you done to me?"

The Witch of the Wilds cackled as though the question were a joke. "_I_ have done nothing, dear girl._ You_ drank from the Well of your own free will."

A shocked gasp escaped Morrigan's throat as realization of the truth hit her. There was only one possible answer. "You...are Mythal."

Flemeth smiled and nodded gently. At long last the Witch of the Wild's true nature revealed to her daughter.

"What? No. No, you can't be." Rajmael denied with every ounce of strength he had. He refused to believe this revelation, even as the impact of it shook his very core.

"And explain, dear boy, why can't I be what I am?" Flemeth laughed.

"Mythal was the goddess of justice, our protector. I've seen the statues, read the lore." Rajmael argued, trying to convince himself more than her. "She was..."

"One of the People? Yes, she most certainly was." Flemeth answered with sincere honesty. The old witch looked upon the Inquisitor with respect and even a glint of admiration. Flemeth tapped Kieran on the back, giving him leave to go to his mother. The boy ran up to Morrigan and she held him close her arms on the verge of tears, happy to her see baby on unharmed.

"I am sorry I worried you mother." Kieran said sadly. "I heard her calling me. She said now was the time." Kieran let go of her mother and returned to Flemeth's side.

Morrigan felt her heart breaking at the sight of her own child willingly going over to Flemeth. Her voice cracked with pain. "I...don't understand."

Flemeth stood before her daughter, grim and foreboding. "Once I was but a woman, desperate and alone, crying for the justice that was denied me. Then she found me, a wisp of an ancient being from a time long forgotten. And she granted me all that I desired and more. I have carried Mythal with me ever since. Seeking the justice that was denied her."

"What do you mean 'Carried with you'?" Rajmael questioned.

"She is a part of me. No more different or more separate than your heart is from your chest." Flemeth answered, turning her gaze to Morrigan. "You hear the voices of the Well, girl. What do they tell you?"

Morrigan closed her eyes and tried to focus on the many voices running through the back of her mind, in her subconscious. She listened for an answer amongst the many whispers. "They...they say you speak the truth."

"But what was Mythal? A legend given a name and called goddess? A powerful elven leader? Or something more? Truth is never the end, but the beginning." Flemeth spoke in her trademark riddles. She turned her gaze to the Inquisitor, a look of respect in her ancient eyes. "So young and vibrant. A herald of change in a time of conflict, harbinger of a new age. You do the People proud, and have come far."

"Coming from the goddess who has ignored my people for so many centuries, that means less to me than what my halla shits out." Rajmael spat with enough venom to shame a cobra, earning a surprised look from all of them. Flemeth was especially taken aback.

"Oho, and here I was thinking that my dear Morrigan was moving in cordial company." Flemeth laughed.

"If you thought I was cordial, then you really have no idea who the fuck I am." Rajmael hissed. "If Mythal is truly a part of you, why haven't you helped us for all these centuries?!"

"You know not what you ask, child." Flemeth evaded.

"Bullshit I don't!" Rajmael snapped furiously. "I know that for _two thousand years _the elven people have been beaten, abused, and violated by every major power that has appeared in this miserable fucking world. I know that the Dalish were broken and scattered for refusing to abandon our faith in you. And what are you? Some frigid old crone, who sluts it up in a cold swamp. _**IS THIS WHAT MY PARENTS DIED FOR?!" **_Rajmael's anguished roar resonated throughout the Fade, making a look of guilt glaze over Flemeth's eyes. "Why would she choose you if not to save our people?!"

"For a reckoning that will shake the very heavens." Flemeth answered with a cryptic smile on her face.

"And you follow her whims?" Morrigan questioned. "Do you even truly know what she is?"

"You seek to preserve the powers that were, but to what end?" Flemeth questioned in response, her face wilting into a dourly. "It's because I taught you, girl. Because things happened that were never meant to happen. She was betrayed as I was betrayed. As the world was betrayed! Mythal clawed and crawled her way through the ages to me, and I will see her avenged!" Flemeth's own voice shook through the Fade, causing the spirits watching them to shake in fear. "Alas, so long as the music plays, we must dance."

"You, Mythal', whatever the fuck you are, you would forsake everything, our entire people, just for your own vengeance?" Rajmael demanded.

"Is that not what it means to serve a god? You of all people should know that by now." Flemeth answered.

"Inquisitor, please. We don't have time for this." Morrigan beseeched desperately. Rajmael ceased his angered question, but not his deathly glare. "Why did you come here."

"For one thing, and one thing only." Flemeth answered, smiling down at Kieran.

Kieran looked at his mother sorrowfully, yet with a sense of determination in his eyes. "I have to go now, Mother."

"No. No, I will _not_ allow it." Morrigan refused to back down.

"He carries a piece of what was. Snatched from the jaws of darkness. You know this." Flemeth reminded.

"He is not your pawn, Mother. I will not let you use him!" Morrigan determined with a strength only a mother could possess.

"Have _you_ not used him? Was that not the reason why you agreed to his creation? The reason why you deceived the man you claim to love, and then left him like a thief in the night when you had what you wanted?" Flemeth countered coldly.

Those words cut deeply into Morrigan. Because it was all true. "That was then. Now he...he is _my_ son."

The cold, sardonic look on Flemeth disappeared from her face, if only for an instant. She seemed impressed by her daughter's answer.

"Wait. What is she talking about? Is Kieran special?" Rajmael questioned.

"I am not the only one possessing the soul of a being long thought lost." Flemeth answered.

"He is more than that, Mother." Morrigan protested.

"As am I, dear girl. Yet do you hear me complain? Our destinies are not so easily avoided."

"Mother, I have to." Kieran insisted sadly.

"You do not belong to her, Kieran. Neither of us do!" Morrigan implored desperately.

"If he is so special, if you want him so badly, why did you wait until now to take him?" Rajmael asked.

"Because I did not know where he was. Morrigan cleverly kept him hidden from me...until now." Flemeth sneered.

"T'was the Well..." Morrigan gasped.

"So clever, Morrigan, but always grasping beyond your reach, despite what I taught you." Flemeth almost taunted. "Even the Inquisitor here told you that there would be a price to pay, and you said that you would gladly pay it."

Morrigan cringed bitterly while Rajmael looked at her with contempt, both of them clearly remembering how willing and arrogant she was back in the Temple. Rajmael pushed back whatever feelings he had about Morrigan and tried to concentrate on why they were here. "Whatever he may possess, whatever you may think of him, Kieran is still just a child!"

"And so much more well-behaved than his mother was at his age." Flemeth smiled at the boy. "But my daughter struggles against all opposition. I expect no less of her."

"If you did not have this hold over me, I would do more than oppose you." Morrigan seethed bitterly, yet helpelessly. Rajmael's hand instinctively grasped his sword.

"Then you would do something you'd both regret." Flemeth threatened. "In this place, my power is greater than either of yours, and your precious Hero isn't here to step in and save you."

"I'd take that chance. You wouldn't be the first god that I've faced down." Rajmael said with hostility.

"So I have heard, more than you know." Flemeth chuckled. "But as long as I have my lovely Morrigan in my thrall, you have no choice."

Morrigan fell to her knees in defeat. Her heart broken, she would beg anything to stop this. "Kieran, I...please."

Flemeth looked at Morrigan with pity in her eyes before turning her attention back to Kieran. Kieran looked up to her pleadingly.

"As you wish." The witch conceded. "Hear my proposal, dear girl. Let me take the lad, and you are free of me forever. I will never again interfere with your life or attempt to harm you. Or, keep the lad with you...and you will never be safe from me. I _will_ have my due."

"He returns with me." Morrigan answered within a heartbeat.

"Decided so quickly?"

"Do whatever you wish to me, take over my body now if you desire, but Kieran will be free from your clutches." Morrigan offered desperately. "I am many things, but I_ will_ not be the same mother you were to me."

A look of sadness came over Flemeth, as if she could actually feel such a thing, at hearing Morrigan's words. As if she had a heart that could still be broken. Flemeth turned to her grandson and gently took his hands in hers. Kieran stood calmly, like he was ready for whatever would happen. Kieran's eyes lit up like candles. A wisp of gently glowing energy emerged from his chest like a star burning in the night sky. Kieran watched as this part of himself floated away and was absorbed by Flemeth.

"No more dreams?" Kieran asked hopefully.

"No more dreams." Flemeth assured with a gentle smile on her face. Kieran smiled happily and went back to his mother's side. "A soul is not forced upon the unwilling, Morrigan. You were never in any danger from me." Morrigan held her son and looked at her mother with disbelief. "Listen to the voices, Morrigan. They will teach...as I never did." Flemeth turned around and began walking back into the void of the Fade.

"Wait!" Morrigan called, but her cry fell upon deaf ears, and Flemeth kept walking.

The Fade crackled and shook with power and the observing wisps fled in terror as a vicious arc of white veilfire flew past Flemeth, barely missing her by a hair, and stopped the Witch of the Wilds dead in her tracks. Never before had anyone dared such a thing.

_**"ASHA'BELLANAR!"**_ Rajmael fumed with rage, his sylvanwood sword drawn and burning with white fire. "You're not leaving here until I have some fucking answers!"

Flemeth turned to face the Inquisitor, more surprised than scared. "Answers? To what questions? Many people desire answers, but seldom few can accept the truth."

"After everything _I_ have suffered, everything my _people_ have suffered for trying to remain loyal to our heritage, I think I'm entitled to know the truth! In fact, I _**DEMAND**_ it!" Rajmael demanded furiously. If his blood was fire and his heart a furnace, Rajmael rage would have incinerated this whole realm into a smoldering pile of ash.

"My, my, but you have some gall." Flemeth laughed. "You dare to make demands, even turn your weapon on me? Even after what you've learned? I possess a god."

"Like I said, you wouldn't be the first god I've faced down. Shit, you wouldn't even be the first one I've killed." Rajmael held his sword firmly, ready attack at the slightest provocation. "If any god wants my respect, you earn it."

A loud cackle erupted from Flemeth's lips like what the Inquisitor said was the funniest thing she'd heard in years. "Ah-ha-ha! Oh, I do admire your spirit, young man. It would seem that you and Aedan Cousland have something in common. You really do your People proud. It's no wonder Corypheus fears you. And why _he_ admires you."

"He? He, who?" Rajmael questioned confusedly. "Corypheus?"

"No, certainly not." Flemeth chuckled. "But that isn't important right now. If you wish to defeat Corypheus, Morrigan will have the answer you seek." Flemeth once again turned to leave, and this time, she had no intention of turning back.

"Wait! I have questions!" Rajmael yelled after her.

"Then I hope you find the answers you seek, Inquisitor." Flemeth remarked, never looking back.

The veins in Rajmael's head bulged furiously, and his eyes burned with intensely enough to match the fury of the flames on his sword. He would not suffer this insult. _**"**_**DON'T YOU TURN YOUR BACK ON _ME_!"**

The Inquisitor brought his sword down in a powerful slash, fueled by his intense anger, and sent a wave of white fire cascading down on the legendary witch, with the intent to burn her to a pile of ash. The wave of white fire crashed against the cold stone of the Fade walls and evaporated into mist. Flemeth had disappeared from this very plane of existence. Heated breaths of anger fumed from Rajmael's nostrils and his sword shook in his enraged grip, cause his knuckles to turn white. His rage boiled inside him like an ocean. For the first time in his life, one of his gods actually appeared to him, only to turn her back on him.

"Inquisitor, please! We must go!." Morrigan pleaded, holding her son's hand firmly in hers.

Rajmael finally relented. He would not get the answers he sought here, but at least they got Kieran back.

**~XoXoXo~**

The three of them emerged from the eluvian and found themselves back in Morrigan's room in Skyhold. Morrigan deactivated the ancient mirror and breathed a sigh of relief, happy to be far from that place and her son returned. Morrigan held her son close to her, never wanting to let him go again. "Kieran, are you alright?"

"I feel lonely." Kieran answered sadly.

Morrigan smiled at her son, and he at her, happy that he was safe with her. Morrigan urged him to go and stood alone with the Inquisitor. Both of them still trying to come to terms with the revolutionary truths they had learned. Neither of them could full believe what had just happened.

"My mother wanted the Old God soul all along. And she herself possesses the soul of an old elven goddess, or whatever Mythal was." Morrigan could still barely believe it even as she spoke. "I always thought that so-called elven gods were little more than glorified rulers. I never dreamed that any of them could still be walking the earth, let alone be my mother." Morrigan sighed wearily from all that she had learned. "Is it worth telling myself that I don't know everything."

"What did you and your mother mean that Kieran possessed a piece of what was? How is it he possessed the soul of an Old God?" Rajmael questioned.

Morrigan averted her eyes, the memory of those days was one she did not look back on that proudly. "During the final days of the Fifth Blight, I performed a...a ritual to take the soul of the Old God Urthemiel, and pass it on to my child, without the corruption of the darkspawn taint that made it into an Archdemon. My son has never known anything else." A shade of defeat cloaked Morrigan's face. "Kieran had a destiny, but now it is in Flemeth's hands. Now, we'll just have to see what she does with it."

"But why? Why would you do something like that to your child?"

"I told you back at the Temple, Inquisitor, the powers of old must be preserved, no how feared or the cost." Morrigan reminded.

"It didn't look like were that willing to pay that cost when Flemeth had your son and was playing you like a puppet on string, Morrigan." Rajmael shot back. "You were arrogant enough to think that you had the ability to control and manipulate such powers when you didn't even respect the price such powers demand. And in your arrogance, your stupidity, you placed your own son in danger! You have no right to dabble in such things that you don't understand. You had no right to do such a thing to your own child!" Rajmael's outrage stemmed from being a parent. He could never imagine placing such a burden on Eva.

"Heh. 'Tis funny. You almost sounded like Aedan for a moment." Morrigan chuckled bitterly, remembering that not all that long ago, Aedan said those same words to her when she told him what she intended for their child. "Just be grateful that you didn't drink from the Well, Inquisitor. I, on the other hand, am bound to my mother for eternity, it seems."

"That was the bed you _chose_ to make, Morrigan. Now you have to sleep in it." Rajmael dejected.

"Do you not think I know that? Do you not think that this is my worst fear come true? Why rub salt in it?" Morrigan finally snapped angrily.

"Because, Morrigan, you were warned of the price! You were told that you would become bound to the will of Mythal, and you didn't even care what that meant!" Rajmael reminded. "Just like you didn't care what danger you would bring to Kieran by placing the Old God soul with him. You stole an ancient power you did nothing to earn. You simply manipulated and cheated your way into having it, like a typical fucking human. Now you have all the lost secrets of my ancestors, while my people still have nothing. And now you have to live with it, for the rest of eternity."

Pained anger scowled over Morrigan's face. The Inquisitor's words cut into her like a piece jagged of glass carving into her heart. "How dare you judge me! You...! You're...you're right. I...didn't understand. I...never thought to question myself because I thought doubt was a weakness. I should never have let this happen. I...should have listened to Aedan all those years ago. I should never have done such a thing to my own baby!" Morrigan averted her eyes from the Inquisitor, the weight of what she allowed to happen crushed down on her. For the first time since she was a child, she buried her face in her hands and sobbed helplessly.

Rajmael felt his anger melt into pity at the sight of Morrigan weeping. Some would doubt that she was capable of such a thing, but Rajmael knew that she was still only mortal. And as Rajmael knew all too well, mortals were flawed creatures, capable of making the most terrible mistakes. Despite all her pretenses and mistakes, Morrigan was still a woman who almost lost her child, and Rajmael knew that there was no greater pain than that.

"For what it's worth, Morrigan, I think you made the right choice when Flemeth made you that offer." Rajmael sighed, placing his hand on her should comfortingly. "Protecting our children, no matter the cost to ourselves, is the most sacred duty of a parent. And being a parent is the closest thing we mortals have to being gods."

"Forgive me, Inquisitor." Morrigan took a deep breath and wiped the tears from her eyes, trying to recover from her moment of weakness. Now was not the time for tears. "My mother was right about one thing: I can match the power of Corypheus' dragon. The voices of the Well know its weakness."

"Go to the War Room. I will meet you and the rest of my War Council there."

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael found himself all alone in the garden, everyone else was off doing their own work or making preparations for the final assault. The Inquisitor stood before the small wooden shrine dedicated to the Creators, gifted to him by Mythra of Ostagar when Eva first arrived at Skyhold. The weight he felt was so terrible, that he fell to his knees before. But this time, no prayers of reverence or thanks escaped his lips, only an anguished cry of loss and anger. Never before had Rajmael looked at the depiction of his gods and so unclean, ashamed. There were hardly any words deep enough to describe this horrid, sickly feeling dwelling inside him. It was much more intense than anger, more vile than disgust, and more painful than any wound he had ever suffered: Betrayal.

Rajmael finally understood what Leliana was feeling when they first met back in Haven. How she was beginning to lose her faith, even as she still knelt to pray. His whole life, Rajmael had dedicated himself to the faith and worship of the elven gods. Foreswearing and even condemning the worship of the Maker as false and hypocritical. His piety was a core part of his who he was, his whole being. The Inquisitor stared at his own hand, recalling the scar that had once dwelled there for most of his life, and felt like an utter fool. When it was removed by the magic of the Temple, Rajmael thought that he had been blessed by the gods, but no. It was simply another form of magic. No true miracle or act of divine intervention.

His greatest desire had turned into his worst nightmare: Mythal the Protector, one of the mightiest of the elven gods, had appeared before him in the flesh. And what was she? An infamous Chasind witch known for stealing children and murdering the men she seduced. That was their great protector? That was the goddess Rajmael's parents defied the Chantry to worship, and were executed for it? Rajmael felt like someone took a hot knife and carved out an irreplaceable piece of him, leaving behind nothing but an empty hole.

Rajmael looked upon the shrine to the Creators and felt that freshly carved hole in his soul filling to the brim with all the anger he possessed. For the first time in his life, in known elven history, Mythal had appeared to an elf. And she turned his back on him. For the past eight hundred years that the legend of Flemeth, Mythal had walked the world. And what did the Great Protector do for the people who so desperately cried to her for protection? Ignored them. No different than the Chantry's absent Maker who abandoned his creations. All the gods did was take, and take, and take, but never gave anything back, even while their worshippers so desperately begged for their help.

All the betrayal that he felt overflowed in his heart like a flood, pumping it through his veins like a terrible poison. How could he live witch such a vile feeling polluting his whole being? There was only one way to purge this taint from his soul. His hand gripped his sword so firmly his knuckles turned white, and held the enasalin above his head. With a final burning tear painfully trailing down his eye, the Inquisitor brought his sword down upon the shrine he so fervently revered. The shrine was split in twain, and the images of the Creators burned in white fire. And with this final act, Rajmael's faith burned away with the shrine.

**~XoXoXo~**

"Are you both alright?" Leliana asked with genuine concern as the two of them entered the War Room. "Morrigan, did you...find what you were looking for?"

"I can match the darkspawn magister's dragon, yes." Morrigan answered honestly. Both her and Rajmael were doing their best to not let anyone see how what just transpired in the Fade was effecting them. "As for matching Corypheus himself, I am afraid that is entirely up to you, Inquisitor."

"I can't kill what I can't find, Morrigan." Rajmael reminded. "If we're to end this, Corypheus must crawl out of whatever hole he's snuck into."

"That's not practical, Inquisitor." Cullen informed staunchly. "We've been letting him have the first move for too long. Now that he's weak and his forces depleted, we must take the fight to him_ before_ he comes to us."

"That's just not possible, Commander." Leliana stated. "We've been looking for his bas since this all began, with no success. Even after you and the Inquisitor burned down the Shrine of Dumat, he's managed to evade our scouts."

"His dragon must come and go from _somewhere_." Cullen insisted. "You can't just hide something like that. Someone is bound to spot it."

"What about the Deep Roads?" Josephine suggested. "We could send an envoy to Orzammar to aid in our search?"

"No, there's just too many..."

As the Commander spoke, thunder cracked from a clear sky, and the rays of the sun turned from yellow to a sickly green, and bathed the room in green light. The mark on Rajmael's hand came to life with energy crackling from his palm and up his arm. The power of the Anchor seemed to be drawn to whatever was on the horizon, making the Inquisitor's hand move towards it involuntarily. Like it was being called to it.

All of them looked through the stained glass window, every soul in Skyhold gazed up at the sky as a familiar and terrifying sense of dread clutched to them. Over on the other side of the Frostbacks, the sky roiled and cracked with green lightning and shrieking thunder. On the edge of the wind, they could hear the shrill screams of demons pouring back into the world. The Breach had been reopened, and from it's maw, demons once again were falling on to the earth.

"It seems Corypheus is not content to just wait." said Morrigan.

"He's in the Valley of Sacred Ashes." Rajmael realized.

"Either you close the Breach once more, or it swallows the world." Morrigan instructed.

"But that's madness! Would it not kill him as well?" Josephine asked trying to keep her panic at bay.

"If he can't be the god of this world, then there's no point in there being a world, as far as he's concerned." Rajmael spoke with apt insight into his nemesis' mind.

"Inquisitor, we have no forces to send with you. We must wait for them to return from the Arbor Wilds." Cullen informed. It would foolish of the Inquisitor to try and fight the Elder One on his own.

"That's not impossible." Leliana denounced. "The longer we wait, the more damage the Breach will cause."

"The Inquisitor has only just sealed most of the Rifts in Southern Thedas." Josephine reminded. "If the Breach remains open, everything we've accomplished could be undone."

"It took every mage we had to seal the Breach the first time, and that was before Corypheus showed himself." Cullen argued. "Facing him now, without any form of aid or militaristic assistance, is exactly what Corypheus wants."

"It's what we both want." Rajmael spoke with no fear and staunch determination in his voice. "My sole purpose for being Inquisitor has been for this moment. He has taken enough from us. Now we will take everything from him. Get the others ready, we leave immediately."

**~XoXoXo`**

Rajmael stood in his chambers while the rest of his companions made their final preparations. In all the times before, whenever he was about to go on a dangerous mission, like in Halamshiral and Adamant, Rajmael would find himself in the garden, standing before the shrine of the Creators and prayed for strength. But after what he learned in the Fade of Mythal's existence, Rajmael could no longer bring himself to utter a prayer. If Mythal, one of the mightiest of the elven gods, didn't even bother with answering any prayers, why would any of the other gods?

Still, Rajmael's faith was an inextricable part of who he was. Who could he ask for strength and the will to do what is necessary if not his people's own gods? He could never bring himself to pray to the Maker, He was unworthy of elven prayers. Who could he possibly ask for the will to do what was necessary? Who could grant him the strength to carry on in his final battle with the ultimate evil?

His spirit in turmoil, searching for peace, Rajmael finally fell to his knees and uttered a desperate prayer to those who always had his faith. Those who had always touched his life, and those whose power of the spirit Rajmael knew to be true.

"Mother, Father. Junnarel, Nethras, Evanura. If any of you are truly out there, if your spirits do watch over me, then please I beg your help now." Rajmael pleaded desperately. "The gods I have prayed to for so long have never aided me. They have abandoned our people. You taught me how to be an elf of the Dalish clans. You taught me the strength and spirit of our people. Now please, give me the strength to face my enemy in my final battle with him. Grant me the strength to return victorious that I may return to our people, and to Eva. Las ar enasalin, ten las ar atishan."

Nothing. Nothing but silence. Rajmael's prayer was once again in vain. He rose from his knees with nothing, he would have to fight without anyone else's strength but his own. But as he walked to the door, Rajmael felt something pulling him. Like some quiet, indescribable urge was pulling him back into the room. He walked over to the vault he kept in his room, it was filled with the rare treasures and relics he had discovered during his time with the Inquisition

He found himself searching for something, for what, he didn't know. There were so many lost treasures and ancient artifacts stored here. Orlesian heirlooms, dwarven weapons, Tevinter enchantments. So many grand and even powerful items that many would kill for, but none were what he was blindly searching for. Amongst the various artifacts and relics, Rajmael found something he had just left here. Something he couldn't believe he had forgotten: The Shards of Sulevin.

How could he have forgotten? The remains of one of the most powerful weapons in known elven history? He recovered these shards himself from the Cradle of Sulevin from the Revenants that had guarded them for centuries, a feat that had claimed the lives of countless others before him. Nethras coveted this sword ever since the two of them were children together. Nethras demanded that Rajmael retrieve the shards for him as payment for his foolish mistake that cost Nethras his wife, Evanura, whom they both loved. But Rajmael betrayed his brother and stained his own honor by giving him a set of false shards created by Dagna. Rajmael endured this shame in order to stop his brother from committing a graver crime, an act that still haunted him. And now the Shards of Sulevin were in his possession, all his.

But what could he do with these shattered pieces of ancient metal? They were useless. Even Dagna and all the mages in Skyhold couldn't reforge this blade. As Rajmael looked upon the broken sword, his mind flashed back to when he handed Nethras the false Shards of Sulevin back in Elgar'nan's Bastion. Nethras had discovered some sort of spell that repaired that shattered blade, even though he himself was not a mage. But the Inquisitor didn't know such a spell existed, let alone how to cast one.

He closed his eyes and tried so had to remember. What did Nethras say? It was an elven tongue that not even Rajmael knew. A dialect that had died so many centuries ago. But as he concentrated, the words somehow came flooding back into his mind like a stream. Like someone was whispering the words into his pointed ears from the furthest corners of his mind. He began to remember and recited the incantation, even though he did not understand the words that were coming from his own mouth.

What was he doing? He didn't know. Reciting empty words he didn't even understand, like a parrot trying to recite poetry, in a vain attempt to find faith that he had lost. It was hopeless. What could invoking the dead do when the gods could do nothing? Rajmael finally gave up, he wasting his time. He opened his eyes, and his heart nearly stopped inside his chest.

The Sulevin Blade laid before him, completely restored to its former glory. Not a blemish on the blade, as if it had never suffered even a scratch, despite being shattered for over eight hundred years. Rajmael tried to keep his hands from shaking, hoping that this wasn't just a cruel hallucination from a tormented mind. He held the blade in his hands, it was lighter than a feather, and the elven runes on the blade glimmered like diamonds. The very sound it made as it cut the air was like a beautiful song. He felt the ancient power of the blade, the magicks that forged it, course through his body like warmth from a fire. One the verge of tears, Rajmael felt like the weight of a mountain had been taken off of him and his spirit soared with a newfound strength. For the first time in his life, someone actually answered his prayers.

"Ma serannas, Nethras. Thank you, my brother."

**The Temple of Sacred Ashes**

The Valley of Sacred Ashes was eclipsed in an unnatural shade that blanketed the entire Frostbacks in darkness. The black sky shattered and rumbled with streaks of green lightning splitting the air. The only form of light that illuminated the darkness on the ground was the sickly glow of the red lyrium that had infect the valley. Entire stones and boulders levitated off the ground as if gravity meant nothing. And the Inquisition soldiers that had been posted there stood with ice clutching at their hearts at the sight of the Elder One approaching them, his magical orb radiating with power.

The blight-corrupted creature cut a sinister figure that seemed to just tower over all of them. He stood before a shattered statue of Andraste as his malignant, clawed hands toying with the orb. His eyes, so full of malice and anger, gazed down on the Inquisition soldier sickeningly, with a sadistic smile on his blighted face. This would become his first hour of godliness. He would make these pitiful ant accept him as their rightful god, or he would mercifully end their putrid existence.

"Tell me. Where is your Maker now? Call on him! Cast his wrath upon me!" Corypheus dared the soldiers, but nothing happened. "You cannot? Because He doesn't exist! I am Corypheus._ I_ shall lead from this lie in which you linger. Bow before your new god and be spared!" The orb floated high over the Elder One as if to exalt him, it's power burning with a red aura.

"Never!" A brave soldier spat at the Elder One, refusing to submit. The other soldiers mustered their courage and held their ground, even as they knew they were looking at death in the face.

Corypheus looked at them with unimaginable disgust. How dare they refuse him. "As you wish." The Elder One waved his hand and used the orb to send a pulse of pure energy to fly at all the soldiers who dared to stand rather than kneel in his presence, sending them flying like feathers. Corypheus summoned hunger demons to attack and shred the blasphemous soldiers with their vile claws. The soldiers didn't stand a chance.

Sera and Harding's arrows flew like birds as they found their mark in each demon head she aimed at, while Cassandra's attacked them with vicious vigor. Blackwall charged in with his shield and heavy armor, clearing a path for the Bull's Chargers who came in screaming and swinging, knocking down and killing any demon in their path, and then carried the injured away. Vivienne, Dorian and Solas conjured their powerful spells to keep the demons at bay while the soldiers fell back. Rajmael came on to the field riding his white halla, the Sulevin Blade strapped to his back. Rajmael dismounted Neirin, and joined his companions on the battlefield.

The Inquisitor and the Elder One glared at one another with hatred and murderous desire in their hearts. Both had taken so much from one another, both fighting for their ideal world. At long last, everything they had fought for, all that they believed in, brought them to this moment. This Armageddon.

"I knew you would come." Corypheus addressed with malice dripping in his voice.

"It ends here, Corypheus!"

"And so it shall!" The blighted magister raised his claws skyward and drew on the power of the orb. The entire Temple of Sacred Ashes quaked and rumbled as Corypheus made the earth shake. Harding lost her footing and landed on her back, father then she expected. When she got back to her feet, the scout was nearly shocked to death to see the temple rising high over the highest peaks of the Frostback mountains. Suddenly, Harding felt very glad she fell when she did. Now she could do was hope and pray that they win.

It was no coincidence, no chance that Corypheus first chose this place to open the Breach. He would prove his godliness by destroying the most sacred place of the people's pathetic, misbegotten faith, prove that there truly was no Maker there to defend them, and that he was the only true divine power in this world. But then that miserable, thin-blooded vagabond from the forest dared to undo his work, with the lips of the masses praising him as a Herald of their dead prophetess. Now, he would finally avenge this heinous insult. Before all the eyes of the world, Corypheus would strike down this false herald in this derelict place of worship, proving every soul the true extent of his divine power. After today, there would be no other god but him.

"You have been most successful in foiling my plans. Truly, I didn't think anyone in this ailing, wretched world could have been so resourceful. But let us not forget what you truly are. A thief, in the wrong place at the wrong time. An interloper. A gnat that can barely comprehend the powers he toys with. We shall decided once and for all which of us is worthy of godhood."

Rajmael busted out laughing as if every word from Corypheus' tainted mouth was a funny joke. He laughed so hard so hard it almost hurt. The Inquisitor's companions thought he was crazy, while Corypheus grinded his grotesque teeth at such mockery. "Oh, poor, deluded, disease-ridden Corypheus. There are no gods. And you? You're jut a parasite pretending to be a predator."

The Elder One panted deep breaths of hatred and bared his teeth at his enemy. A deep, powerful growl filled the air, and a shadow cast over the ground as Corypheus' pet dragon crawled over the ruins behind his master, it's maw gaping hungrily and it's teeth dripping with tainted filth. Rajmael stood unafraid. The blighted dragon pounced down on the Inquisitor, intending to finally make a meal out of the insolent elf, only to be pounced on, right in mid-air, by another dragon!

Like her mother before her, Morrigan had assumed the form of a mighty High Dragon, the only creature that could match the unnatural beast that held Corypheus' life force. The two behemoths clawed and snapped their powerful teeth back and forth in flight. Both of them fighting for dominance in and blew their fiery breath at each other in a dance of death.

At the sight of another dragon fighting his thrall, Corypheus' already grotesque face twisted into a sour look of rage from this insult. "You _dare_. You dare invoke an image reserved only for the gods?! You shall pay dearly for this insult!"

Rajmael finally unstrapped the Sulevin, it's blade and rune glimmering like starlight in the darkness. "What do you plan to do, asshole? Talk me to death?"

"No. I will **_BURN_** you to death!" Corpheus screamed. Beams of crimson energy blasted from the magister's claws, Rajmael deflefted the beam like light of a mirror with the Sulevin, leaving not a scratch on the blade, but left Corypheus standing in anger. "Look at you! Wearing slave markings on your face with pride. You are nothing! Your whole race is nothing! Thin-blooded descendents of slaves and sniveling cowards that shrank before the might of Tevinter!"

"If that's true, why are you so desperate to steal my people's legacy?! Without our power, you have nothing. You would be nothing!" Rajmael accused, pointing at the orb Corypheus carried.

_**"SILENCE!"**_ Corypheus demanded, frothing with rage, the truth deeply wounding him. "I will prove my divinity! Watch as I conjure followers from the very air!"

The orb blazed with power, green lightning crackling from it, and powerful demons of Pride, an Arcane Horror and a Revenant were summoned out of thin air. These were some of the most powerful creatures in the demon hierarchy. This would be a tough fight.

"Everyone! Take care of the pets." Rajmael ordered. "I'm going after the master."

"It's only the fate of the world at stake, Inquisitor. We can handle this." Dorian assured.

"Just remember to leave some of that guy for us." Iron Bull laughed.

"He will not hurt anyone else after today." Cole spoke confidently.

"Alright, Bianca. Let's show this prick why escaping that damned prison was the biggest damned mistake he ever made." Varric chuckled to his crossbow.

"Don't worry about us. Just focus on cutting that bastards head off." Blackwall encouraged.

"Go, Rajmael. This is what you were meant to do." Cassandra urged confidently. "And please, be careful, my love."

"Inquisitor, take care." Solas instructed urgently. "He draws even more power from the orb, but he can only use so much. When he has exhausted the power he summoned, that is when he'll be most vulnerable."

With his companions' encouragement and Solas' wisdom, Rajmael held the Sulevin tightly in his grip, felt it's ancient magic stirring and empowering him. His Shimmering Shield activated, his aura blazed with white magic and he flew like a comet over to his adversary. All the years of training, hardship and pain had brought him to this moment. He would not falter now.

Rajmael was dwarfed by the towering magister. His sickly aura and vile magic permeated the very air with the taint. Corypheus summoned the elements of fire, ice, lightning down on the Inquisitor. He even conjured lesser demons to cut the insolent elf down where he stood. Each spell and summons's power was greatly enhanced by the orb.

The Inquisitor deflected each fireball, lightning bolt and ice-spike with mind-defying accuracy, the enchantments of the Sulevin held greatly against the attacks. The edge of his sword cut through each demon like it was carving a turkey. At long last, Rajmael finally understood why his brother coveted the Sulevin so much. Why Nethras was willing to risk so much even for the sword's shattered remains. The power of this weapon alone was enough to turn the tide of any battle. But in the hands of an Arcane Warrior, it's magic increasing his already formidable power, made him strong enough to challenge a god.

Rajmael brought his legendary sword down on Corypheus with enough power to knock off a giant's head. The Elder One used his claw to summon a powerful barrier to block the attack in mid-swing. The magic from these two awesome mages clashed with such power, it ignited the air with positive and negative energies. Both of them summoned their wills to push back the other.

Rajmael began to get the upper hand in this deadlock they were in. His sword was managing to push through Corypheus' barrier. If he could smash through this spell, he might be able to land a fatal blow on him. Sensing his spell beginning to weaken, Corpheus drew on the power of the orb to enhance his magic. His barrier became stronger and began radiating a wave of heat intense enough to rival a dwarven forge. Corypheus' barrier strength kept building and pushing the Inquisitor back, until it finally exploded in a ball of red energy that left a crater where they stood and sent the Inquisitor flying over the edge of the floating island they stood on. Rajmael didn't even have time to yell as he hurdled over the edge!

Corypheus laughed triumphantly at the sight of that pretentious knife-ear being tossed over the edge of the island like the piece of garbage that he was before turning his sight on those miserable companions of his, who were still fighting the demons he summoned. He would kill them just as easily as he killed their precious Herald. And once they were all dead beneath his heels, this world would finally...

_**"AAARGH!"**_ Corypheus screamed in agony when he felt a searing pain dig straight into his neck and the some massive amount of weight pulling on him. Like an anchor had grabbed hold of him and was trying to drag him back.

Rajmael had Nethras' bora'nan on him, used the chained sickle to grab Corypheus like a fish on a hook, and yanked himself back on to the island. The sickle end of the weapon was buried deep into Corypheus' neck, making ropes of blood spurt out. Their fight was far from over.

"I'm not finished with you yet, freak!" Rajmael yanked the bora'nan to pull Corypheus back towards him, then activated his magic, sending a powerful current of lightning up the chain that fried Corypheus' head like a pumpkin over a fire. The darkspawn magister screamed an unearthly screech in pain and anger.

Corypheus grabbed hold of the chain that was currently lodged to him by the sickle lodged in his vertebrae, and yanked the Inquisitor over to him like a fish on a line. Rajmael had forgotten his enemy's insane strength and went flying through the air like he weighed nothing at all straight to Corypheus. The Elder One held forth his hand like a spear at the Inquisitor, aiming to impale him like a stuck pig on his bare hand.

Rajmael phased through Corypheus' massive claw like a ghost and landed right behind him. He slashed the Sulevin at his enemy, Corypheus caught the blade in his claw, a feat that shocked Rajmael. Corypheus conjured a ball of red energy in the palm of his free claw and slammed it into Rajmael's chest, and sent him flying through the air. It felt like a typhoon was trying to bore its way into Rajmael's sternum and it burned with the heat of a crucible, if it wasn't for his Shimmering Shield protecting him, the attack would have tore him to pieces. The sheer power of this attack actually managed to finally shatter Rajmael's magic shield. Rajmael concentrated his will and tried to hold the sphere back and keep it from ripping into him. His managed to push away from him and hurl it into the sky, where it exploded into a storm of lightning and fire, and left behind a new circular shaped burn scar on his chest. Any other mage, and that spell would have minced then burned them into a pile of burnt chunks of meat.

Corypheus held the orb in his hand, clenching it as though he wanted to squeeze blood out of it. Four powerful beams of magic shot to the ground, and from them emerged four construct beings of fire, earth, ice and lightning, and each carried a grisly sword made of their own element. Corypheus' cracked lips curled into a sick smile while he maintained this spell with the orb. He had promised that he would conjure followers from the very air. Rajmael's eyes almost bugged out of his head, never before had he seen or even heard of such a spell. What other kind of magic was the Orb of Destruction capable of?

The four elementals flew at Rajmael with alarming speed, aiming to skewer the elf on their magical points. Rajmael dodged each one so narrowly that they cut a new whole in his coat, but they didn't stop. They pursued and engaged Rajmael with relentless fury. The swords may have been constructed of magic, but they felt and struck like real swords, and the damage the could do was great.

The Inquisitor blocked and parried each elemental blade, but had no room to attack. Each elemental moved with the skill of elite swordsmen, like he was dueling four opponents at once. Rajmael hadn't fought anyone od such high caliber since his duel with Nethras. Trying to block and evade at the same time was difficult; every time he blocked one and dodged another, two were able to get a deep cut on him. He was being burned, electrocuted, frozen and stoned all at the same time. If it wasn't for his ability to heal himself, he would certainly be bleeding to death right now, much less stand and fight.

Rajmael was using too much mana to continuously heal the wounds they were inflicting on him, he wouldn't be able to keep this up much longer. Rajmael blocked the ice-swordsman and kicked the lightning one away from him, but the stone elemental was able to get a terrible cut in on him right on his forehead. Rajmael dashed away from his enemies to try and recover the cut. His wound bled profoundly, causing blood to fall into his eyes, blinding him. And he didn't have enough mana left to heal it. He couldn't see anything.

The flame elemental tried to take advantage of the Inquisitor's blindness and began hurling dragon-sized fireballs at him. If these creatures could be surprised, they would certainly have been shocked to see the Inquisitor nimbly dodge each fireball with acrobatic precision. Throughout the years of grueling training that Rajmael endured to master the way of the Arcane Warrior, he also trained himself to fight blind. But the construct swordsmen were not surprised, and three of them ran to attacj their enemy while the flame elemental continued to hurl fire at him.

Rajmael was running on his last reserves of mana, and was no longer able to heal himself. He needed to step up his game, otherwise he'd be impaled or incinerated. Needed to time this just right.

Rajmael felt the next fireball coming from in on his flank. He torqued his whole body around and caught it on the Sulevin's edge, then redirected the massive ball of flame into the swordsmen made of stone. The earth elemental exploded like one of Varric's grenades, its shrapnel flying everywhere. The flame elemental lunged at him with its burning sword like lance, then began swinging its massive burning sword with all the restraint and discipline of a forest fire. All fury and no control. Rajmael glanced the fire creature's blade of his, redirecting it away from him and exposing its flank. Rajmael finished the elemental with a powerful flourish to its blindside that snuffed the thing like a candle.

The Inquisitor deftly dodged and parried the sword strikes of the two remaining constructs. Both the ice and lightning elementals tried to deliver a killing blow simultaneously, their swords glaring with their respective elements. Rajmael blocked the ice-blade with the Sulevin in his right hand, but let the lightning elemental run him through with its sword. Corypheus thought his victory was at hand, but his sadistic joy was cut short when he realized that the lightning elemental was somehow dying instead. It fell to it constructed knees and was growing weaker, like something was draining it of power. How was this happening?

What Corypheus didn't know was that Rajmael's magic had a natural affinity to lightning, and all this elemental did was give him another weapon to use. He absorbed the power of the construct's sword that was stabbing him, like a natural lightning rod. Rajmael stabbed the Sulevin into the ice elemental's midsection, and used the power of the lightning he charged into the Sulevin to make it exploded into wet icicles.

One of the most important techniques to the discipline to the Arcane Warrior, was being able to absorb energy from other magical sources in order to replenish their own mana. And this lightning elemental was feeding his mana like how coal feeds a furnace. The thing struggled and tried to break free, but it was useless. Rajmael's own magic reserves were now overflowing with power and used the newly found mana to heal his wounds. With the electric construct no longer serving any purpose to him, Rajmael ran it through with his sword and burned it away with veilfire until it blew up like a miniature firecracker.

Corypheus screamed in anger and pain when the Orb of Destruction spat strong burst of energy back at him. He had used the orb's power to create those elemental's, and their destruction was causing the orb to lash back at him violently. The orb had taken so much out of him, Corypheus actually fell to his knees. He looked at the Inquisitor with all his hatred burning in his eyes with the intensity of the sun. He was the Elder One! And he would not let some miscreant, elven vagabond see him thus. But he could not even bring himself to stand back up, his orb was taking too much from him.

Rajmael looked at Corypheus with his sword ready, and finally realized why his enemy needed the orb: because his own magic was obsolete. Never before had the ancient Magister faced an Arcane Warrior of the elven people, and his underestimation of the elves, of all people, was a weakness. Now Rajmael understood why Hawke was able to kill Corypheus. As powerful as this Magisters was, being one of the seven who broke into the Fade, his magic was archaic, outdated. The art and practice of magic had progressed and evolved since Corypheus' time. While he magic was very powerful, Corypheus' skill had not progressed from the dark period that he first walked in. Corypheus was arrogant enough to believe that his magic needed no improvement, and that was his true weakness.

**~XoXoXo~**

While Rajmael battled Corypheus amongst the ruins, and Morrigan wrestled with the blighted dragon in the air in her own dragon form, the rest of them engaged the powerful demons that were summoned. These were some the most powerful demons in their class, but the companions of the Inquisitor had killed scores of them throughout their entire time with the Inquisition. They would not falter to the likes of Corypheus' lackeys, demonic or otherwise.

The demon of Pride lumbered over them like an ogre, launching massive spheres of electric energy at them. In any tactical situation, it was always better to take out the largest opponent first, so that they would have more room to maneuver and take out their other targets. A crazy thought went through the Iron Bull's mind. It was really risky and insanely stupid, but it was undoubtedly awesome too.

"Dorian, when you see the signal, light that thing up with everything you've got!"

"Signal? What signal?" Dorian asked confused, and slightly afraid of how close that demon was getting.

The horn-headed oxman looked over to their residential Red Jenny with a wide grin on his face. "Hey, Sera! You remember that one thing you and I discussed that one time?"

Sera flinched at the very thought of it. "No. No, you're daft. I already said I ain't doin' it!"

"Sorry about this, Sera, but desperate times call for desperate measures." Iron Bull grabbed a firm hold of Sera, and using his oversized muscles, launched the scrawny elf in the air like he was tossing a disc right over the Pride Demon.

"FUUU-UUUCK!" The now airborne Sera screamed at the top of her lungs. Not letting her fear of heights get the better of her, Sera started launching arrows right into the big demon's eyes.

"I suppose that was the signal." Dorain guessed. He conjured a powerful glyph that spat out a swarm of fireballs at the Pride Demon and punched a series of holes into the creature's torso.

**"MAAAYHEEEMMM!"** Iron Bull bellowed like a maniac, charging the Pride Demon with his axe. With Sera distracting it with arrows from above, and those wounds Dorian inflicted on it, Bull had the perfect opening from below. With so many arrows in its eyes and face, and agony its torso was in, the creature didn't see what was coming. The Bull's axe chopped at the demon's leg like it was a tree trunk, and came crashing down like a felled oak. Sera smashed one of her fire vials on the demon, and burned it up like kindling, while Iron Bull chopped its skull into splinters.

"That was even more awesome than I thought it was going to be." Iron Bull sighed happily.

"Ah, yes. It's always wonderful to accomplish personal goals." Dorian chuckled.

"You realize you're sooo gonna get some bees later, right?!" Sera huffed angrily.

"Totally worth it."

**~XoXoXo~**

Arcane Horrors were extremely powerful Abominations. A Pride Demon that possessed the corpse of a mage. Corypheus lacked for neither demons, nor dead mages in his service. It possessed all the skills of the dead mage and the full might of its true demonic self, made this creature a foe even the most seasoned Templar could not face alone. Fortunately, Blackwall and wasn't alone, and he had two companions who were was an experts on both magic and demons.

The Arcane Horror cast a beam of green, destructive energy at the former knight. Blackwall held his shield firmly in front of him and the beams bounced off the shield's face. Good thing he had Dagna reinforce his shield with some strong protection enchantments.

"That's right, creature. Focus on the big lummox in the armor." Blackwall thought to himself. "Solas, any help now would be great!"

The elven apostate connected his will to the Veil to tear it open and create a small Rift that pulled the Arcane Horror backwards. If Solas could force it back into the Fade through this tiny Rift, the resulting conflict of planar energies would tear the Abomination apart. But the creature was resilient, it refused to be dragged back into the Fade and pushed itself forward. "Cole, now!"

The former Spirit of Compassion materialized out of the very shadows right in front of the Arcane Horror, and buried two daggers deep into his enemy's eyes. Cole jumped away while monster screeched in shrill agony and tried to pull the daggers out of its own skull, not realizing that when Cole jumped off it, he planted several bombs on its chest. The bombs exploded into a ball of fire and sent the Arcane Horror flying backwards. Now the Rift Solas made was successfully dragging it back. The Arcane Horror screamed viciously, clawed at the dirt in a vain attempt to keep itself from being dragged into the Rift.

Then the Arcane Horror disappeared away from the Rift. It teleported to a nearby ledge overlooking them, it's gouged out eyes glaring at them while its blown off jaw dangling from a shred of flesh on its rotted skull. It charged its powerful magic and cast down beams of destructive energy on them once more.

"I think I made it angry." Cole guessed as he dodged the death-beams.

"Really? What gave you that impression?" Blackwall asked sarcastically, hiding behind his shield as the creature's attacks once again bounced off the face of his shield. "Solas, any other ideas?"

Solas set up a barrier to shield himself from the Arcane Horror. "I need to activate a nullification spell. Distract it with your shield and get me closer while Cole flanks him."

"Right. Send my ass into the fire first. That's what I'm here for." Blackwall grunted from behind his shield.

The Arcane Horror conjured another spell while Blackwall got ready to make his move. A massive, boulder sized fist came crashing down on the Arcane Horror. It smashed the Abomination into the ground, shattering it's body. Cole, Blackwall and Solas were stunned to see that Dorian used his powers as a Necromancer to resurrect that Demon of Pride and use it to bludgeon the Arcane Horror into a stain on the rocks before throwing its body off the island. The Tevinter mage stood there with that cocky grin on his face.

"Show off." Blackwall muttered.

**~XoXoXo~**

Cassandra narrowly parried the Revenant's impossibly long sword away from her. It flourished its unwieldy blade with impossible speed and dexterity. The sword was as long as the Revenant was tall, preventing Cassandra from getting close enough to fight it. And even if she could get past that infernal sword, there was still that massive round shield it carried. Then there was the magic this thing also wielded.

Revenants were some of the most powerful Abominations anyone could encounter. Cassandra had only faced a few in her years before the Inquisition, and most of the time, she fought alongside her fellow Seekers, and not everyone always survived those encounters. Revenants were a form of undead that were possessed by a very powerful demon, usually one of Pride or Desire. Their unnatural martial skills alone made them devastating opponents, but they were also capable of utilizing magic to assist their already powerful physical abilities. It was like the undead form of an Arcane Warrior.

Vivienne rained down a storm of icicles while Varric fired a volley of bolts at the Revenant flanks in an attempt to give Cassandra some cover fire. The Revenant blocked Varric's shots with its shield and deflected Vivienne's icicles with a wide arc of its sword. While it negated Varric and Vivienne's attacks, it left itself wide open for Cassandra. The Seeker charged the Revenant, her sword, Avenger, glaring brightly, and chopped off the undead creature's sword hand.

The Revenant screeched in furious agony at the sight of its own severed hand falling to the ground, its huge sword still clenched in its grip. The towering possessed corpse angrily backhanded the Seeker with its massive shield. Cassandra blocked the strike, but the Revenant was inhumanly strong, and sent her flying back at least ten feet.

Cassandra's ears were ringing and her vision was dazed, and the wind was knocked completely out of her. Through her blurred vision, she saw the now maimed undead creature stomping towards her with fury burning in those unholy eyes. It magically levitated that massive sword its off the ground, the severed hand still clutching it, and telepathically spun the sword like buzzsaw. It walked closer and closer, its sword spinning loudly as it cut the air, aiming to split the Seeker right in half. Cassandra didn't move, she couldn't move. Not yet. Just a little closer...

Cassandra dodged the spinning blade superbly, and stabbed her own sword into the ground. Channeling her will through the sword and into the ground they stood on, and all the lyrium within radius a ten foot radius within her reach burned into a white mist, nullifying all magic. With it's connection to the Fade weakened, it's magic negated, the spinning blade fell to the ground, and the Revenant was stunned.

"Vivienne, now!" Cassandra ordered.

"As if you had to say anything, dear." Vivienne said haughtily and activated the powerful ice glyph beneath the Revenant's mailed feet. The glyph became alive with light and froze the Revenant in a pillar of ice. In its anger, the undead horror walked straight into their perfectly laid trap.

But that alone was not enough to stop a creature as powerful as a Revenant. Within seconds it would break free of its icy trap.

"From Bianca with love, you sorry bastard." Varric laughed. He loaded his crossbow with several bombs that Bianca, the real Bianca, left for him when she came to Skyhold. They were lyrium bombs.

The bombs exploded into massive plumes of blue fire and white smoke, shattering the frozen Revenant to pieces. It's body and armor scattered all over the ground, then crumbled into dust. Revenants were powerful indeed, but they had faced even more powerful foes than that. And Cassandra hadn't come this far just to be stopped by another one of Corypheus' poorly summoned pets. Especially when the man she loved was fighting Corypheus by himself.

**~XoXoXo~**

Solas was right. The more power Corypheus drew from the Orb of Destruction, the more it took out of him. Rajmael had seen Corypheus sustain wounds that would be fatal to mere mortals back in Haven, even witnessed him resurrect himself back in the Temple of Mythal, yet walked away from such traumas like it meant nothing. Now, after their brief skirmish, as powerful as it was, Corypheus was now exhausted, gasping for breath. He had used too much of the Orb's power to raise the temple and duel with Rajmael, it was practically draining the life out of him. If a mere elf, a descendant of slaves, could bring a Magister and would-be god down so low, then he was no god at all. He could be slain.

Rajmael looked up to the sundered sky and watched Morrgian battling Corypheus' pet dragon high in the air. Despite being new to this form, Morrigan fought well, and was gaining the upper hand. She fly high above it, then dove back down, letting gravity increase her force, and tackled the tainted dragon with all her weight. Morrigan latched her dragon maw on her enemy's neck, tearing it's rancid flesh in her teeth, and smashed it up against the flying islands around them.

This was actually happening. They were winning. Corypheus was no god, nor could he ever hope to be one. That horrible future Rajmael saw would never come to pass. With Morrigan taking on that dragon in the air and his companions at his side, Rajmael readied to slay his enemy."

"It's time to end this, Corypheus." Rajmael snarled, Sulevin in hand.

"No...Not like this!" The Elder One denied. Once again, he summoned the power of the Orb. The ancient relic crackled unstably and a beam of destructive green energy of green fire and lightning spewed from it. Not at the Inquisitor, but at the witch who dared to take on the form reserved for the gods, and had the gall to fight an avatar of a true god.

Rajmael watched in horror as the spell from the orb hit Morrigan dead on in the sky. She roared in horrible agony and was paralyzed in midflight. Morrigan fell like a downed quail far from the sky and back down to the ground, leaving a huge crater where she landed. The witch revereted back to her human form, but Rajmael couldn't tell if she was alive or not.

A shrill roar split the air as Corypheus' dragon swooped down on all of them like a vulture on a dead carcass. They tried to scramble, but it was too late. It spewed balls of fire from its mouth with the intensity of a volcano. The force of the blast shattered the ground they stood on and all fell down to the lower valley where Morrigan had fallen.

Vivienne, Cole, Sera and Varric took the worst of the blast; Vivienne's entire left side had been burned to a cinder, making her once beautiful face look like a burnt ham. Sera was able to get far enough away from the massive fireball, but not from the rocks that flew from the impact like shrapnel and shot threw her body like arrowheads, making her bleed out slowly. Cole was sent flying over the edge from the impact, causing him to land on the broken rocks that fell there. The height of his fall caused his body to break on the rocks beneath him. He whimpered painfully, trying to crawl over to his injured companions and relieve their pain as best he can. And poor Varric...a boulder landed right on top of the dwarven rogue, breaking both his legs, turning his ribs into gravel and puncturing his lungs.

Varric the boulder that was pinning him down off and crawled over to his beloved crossbow. "Come on, Bianca. We...can still...pull this off." Varric coughed between words, trying to hack the blood out of his lungs. "Could...really use Hawke right about now."

"You're not dying yet, dwarf." Dorian promised, desperately trying to cast a healing spell strong enough to heal his comrades. The Tevinter mage was so focused on trying to heal them, he didn't notice how close the dragon was.

The tainted dragon stomped right behind Dorian and swiped at the wayward Tevinter with the back of its monstrous claw. Dorian was sent flying through the wall and smashed against the cliff wall with a sickening crunch.

"DORIAN!" Iron Bull screamed furiously. In a fit of rage that only a Qunari could posses, the massive oxeman blindly charged the vile high dragon.

"Bull, don't!" Solas warned, but it was too late. Iron Bull swung his axe at the dragon, trying to cleave its jaw, but the monster reared its head back and spewed a plume of fire down on him. Iron Bull's whole body was covered in a blanket of flame, screaming in more anger than agony.

Solas cast a frost spell on Iron Bull to douse the flames on his body, but the damage had been done. Iron Bull's body was now completely covered in third degree burns and barely breathing. Blackwall and Cassandra were still in fighting condition, Solas had to give them support then try to find a way to heal the others. Perhaps he could create another small rift and summon a meteor big enough to...

The tainted dragon sensed the elven apostate's intention and leapt upon him faster than a heartbeat. Solas had no time to even think his next move before the dragon snatched him up in its tainted maw. It bit down on the elf's body, impaling him on its spear-like teeth, then threw him away like a piece of garbage. Solas' body began bleeding out like a pierced wineskin.

Cassandra couldn't believe this was happening. This couldn't be happening! No. Now was not the time to panic. She had to maintain control. He brother was the best dragon slayer the Pentaghasts trained in generations, and he taught her all she knew. She had to take it down or immobilize it long enough to aid one of the mages and see if they could cast a spell strong enough to heal the others. All dragons had a weakness and this one was no different, no matter how powerful. There was a series of veins in every dragons' hind leg, and if it was cut, the dragon would bleed horribly and be immobilized.

The wretched creature hadn't noticed her yet. She quickly moved in from behind, remaining in its blind spot. Cassandra just needed to get close enough, and she could cut the damned things arteries. Cassandra went in for the kill, then...nothing. She couldn't move, she was paralyzed. What was happening!? Cassandra looked up to top of the ruined temple and saw Corypheus with his wretched claw held out, magic burning in his palm. Then she looked beneath her feet and saw the Corypheus cast some kind of paralysis glyph.

The corrupted dragon finally noticed Cassandra, death was burning in its hateful eyes. It reared back its immense tail and swung it at her with the force of a hurricane, aiming to turn the Seeker into a new stain on the ground. All Cassandra could do was wait for the strike to come.

"Seeker!" Blackwall yelled. He dived to her side and shoved her out of the way of the dragon's death blow. Blackwall took the full force of the dragon's attack himself and was sent flying across the battlefield like a stone skipping on water. His heavy plate armor shattered and almost bone in his body broke every time he skipped off the ground until he crashed into the wall.

Cassandra used her Seeker abilities to negate the lingering effects of the paralysis spell Corypheus used on her. She was know the only warrior left standing. She could still follow through with her plan. She picked up her sword and charged the fucking dragon's hind leg again. She had to try...

Burning pain shot through Cassandra's abdomen, and bits her armor were sent flying right off of her. Corypheus had shot her from behind with a beam of red energy. Cassandra fell to her knees clutching her chest, he strength completely leaving her. She didn't feel any pain, she couldn't feel anything. Nothing but cold as her lifeblood was slowly flooding out of her wounds and drenching her armor. The dragon raised it's head to the sky and gave a triumphant roar that shook the very air. Cassandra looked around and saw all her friends and comrades were dying around her, and she couldn't save them. Her breath became shallow and her eyes heavy, she could feel her life slipping away. With one last prayer on her lips, she closed her eyes and prepared to greet the Maker...

_**"GARAS HANIN, MA FALONEN!"**_

Those words resonated more powerfully than the corrupted dragon's war cry, and as they echoed through the air, a miraculous thing happened. Cassandra felt life returning to her whole being, her wounds began to heal and her strength was renewed. What was happening? She The Seeker looked around her and saw her comrades, and all of the injuries they had suffered were healing. Iron Bull and Vivienne's burns were disappearing, and all of their bodies mended like they hadn't suffered at all. They were all surrounded by an aura like glimmering starlight that ways not only healing them, but giving them new strength. Cassandra recognized that aura: it was Rajmael's Shimmering Shield.

Rajmael stood on a far off outcropping overlooking the valley where his companions were boxed in with that damned dragon, and watched helplessly as it descended on them. It all happened so fast he couldn't react in time, and now they were all dying. He knew a spell, one of the most powerful ones he knew, and one of the most secret techniques of the Dirth'ena Enasalin. Ariva taught it to him, and told him to never use it unless the need was absolutely dire. Rajmael could see no more dire need than right now.

He stabbed the Sulevin into the ground and recited the ancient words and activated a powerful glyph beneath his feet. This was one of the oldest spells the elves had, and very few of them knew it, and it required Halam'shivanas, the Sweet Sacrifice of Duty. Glyphs appeared beneath his fallen comrades, their life force connecting with his mana, and he bestowed all his healing powers to them. His Shimmering Shield surrounded them, giving them new strength and healing all their wounds.

While this spell was powerful, it was also dangerous. As his companions grew stronger, Rajmael's own mana became weaker. All the wounds he sustained in his fight with the elementals began to reopen, painfully. Blood began to fall back into his eyes from the cut he suffered on his forehead, and the stab wound he received from the lightning elemental opened up into a bleeding hole right in his rib cage while his left rib cage was completely shattered. His left shoulder was dislocated and his right forearm was cut straight down to the bone. Rajmael's whole body was wracked with horrible agony with his blood seeping out of every wound he had and making a puddle at his feet, but he couldn't stop now. He must finish the spell. He would not let his companions die here.

Rajmael finally fell to his knees, all his mana completely drained. His body was now an open wound from all the cuts and injuries he suffered. He was in too much pain to even scream. Rajmael hacked blood out of his mouth and weakly tried to keep his grip on his sword. He had never used so much mana in his life, and was about to lose consciousness from blood loss.

"A foolish endeavor, Herald." Corypheus' resonating voice mocked from the top of the temple. "True gods know when to sacrifice their followers. And with your end, _my_ godhood begins." Corypheus pointed his malevolent claw at his enemy, and the corrupted dragon obeyed his master's will.

The beast leapt over to where Rajmael was kneeling, and towered over the Inquisitor menacingly, it's shadow completely veiling him. It looked down on the bleeding, pretentious elf with murder in its eyes and licked it's lips with it forked, malignant tongue. The dragon would finally finish what it started with Have, and this time, there would be no mountain to save him.

"Rajmael!" Cassandra cried, desperately running over to him, hoping to somehow stop the dragon.

"We're coming, Boss!" Iron Bull hollered, trying to convince himself they'd make it.

"No, no. This can't happen. We have to help him!" Cole said.

"Hey! Over here you taint-ridden piece of shit!" Blackwall yelled, hoping to get the beast's attention.

"Come on, asshole! You like picking on smaller guys? Well, why don't you pick on me!? I'm smaller!" Varric screamed also trying to grab the dragon's attention.

"Scaly, shit-faced, town-eating, snot-slurping, piss-bag!" Sera cursed with every arrow she shot, trying to make each one count.

"Vivienne, Dorian, we must try to draw the beasts attention." Solas ordered, and for the first time, neither of the human mages stopped to question him. All three of the mages held their staves and charged their magic. Each of them sent a barrage of powerful offensive spells of ice, fire and spirit energy at the damned dragon.

The corrupted dragon took the magical assault like rain sliding off its scales. It beat it powerful wings, kicking up the wind like it was nothing, and sent a very strong gale that sent the Inquisitor's companions flying backwards. No one would interrupt this divine judgment. The dragon reared back its gargantuan head and breathed a mighty gust of wind into its lungs. The sound of a forest fire churned deep inside its gut.

The Seeker watched in horror and fearful tears filled her eyes. She knew what was coming and could do nothing to stop it. For the second time in her life, Cassandra could do nothing but watch in terror as the man she loved was to be slain right in front of her eyes, and the Maker wasn't there to stop it. Corypheus looked on with bated, anticipated breath and twisted glee in his eyes. At long last this would be over, he would finally be rid of this false Herald.

_**"RAJMAEL!" **_Cassandra's desperate scream was the last thing he heard.

A single tear fell from Rajmael's eyes. Not one of fear or pain, but of deep regret. "Eva...I'm so sorry."

The corrupted dragon spewed a column of red and black fire from its rancid maw. Once again, Rajmael was consumed by fire and agony, and his entire world went completely dark. His companions looked on in horror while Corypheus' sinister laughter filled the entire ruin at the sight of the Inquisitor's death.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael was in a world of gentle white mist. Where was he? Was he dead? Was this the path to the Beyond? Where was Falon'din, the guide to the elven dead? Rajmael had hoped he would be proven wrong about the elven gods, but it seemed that even in death, the Creators were nowhere to be found. Typical. He was so disappointed in life, why shouldn't he be in death?

The mist parted and revealed what looked like a pathway meant to lead him away. Perhaps this was the path to the afterlife? Rajmael was a little scared. How could he know what was on the end of this path? What would be waiting for him there? Peace or pain? Judgment or reward? Only one way to find out. He took but a single step and felt something grab him by the shoulder.

Rajmael turned to see someone he thought he had forgotten. A face he hadn't seen in so long, yet knew so well. "F-father?"

Dairren Yonwyn, Rajmael's blood-father, looked upon his son with the love and pride only a father could have for his son. "It's not time for you to walk that path yet, my son. You still have much to do." Rajmael's father took his son by the shoulder and guided him through the mist and away from the path that was set before him.

"I...I don't understand." Rajmael whispered, his voice shaky.

"Someday you will." Dairren assured his son warmly. "But now is not the time, you got people waiting for you. Let's not keep them waiting. And know that there is no father alive that could have more pride in his son than I do in you. Being your father was the best thing that ever happened to me, and the greatest thing I ever did in life." Dairren urged his son forward, and waved him goodbye while disappearing back into the mist.

No sooner had Rajmael left his father behind he saw the silhouette of another person he hadn't seen in so long. This time, the tears really did fall from his eyes: it was his real mother, Renalle.

Renalle wept tears of joy at the sight of her son. For the first time in decades she kissed her son's face and held him close to her, and Rajmael hugged her back, his own tears staining his face.

"M-Mama?" Rajmael cried.

"Oh, my little Rajmael. My beautiful Rajmael has grown into such a fine man. I'm so proud of you." Renalle wept. "I've dreamed of the day that I could see you again. But it's not time yet. You still have a ways to go. You still have so much to give the world. Go now, and now that your father and I love you with all our hearts."

"I...love you too, Mama." His mother pulled him further away from the path and waved him a tearful farewell before disappearing back into the mist.

Rajmael's step became more alive the further he walked. The further he walked away from the path, the dimmer this world became. Was this truly the path between life and death, or were these simply spirits pretending to be those he loved and lost? Soon he came across another figure, and this one he recognized but could hardly believe.

"Junnarel?" Rajmael gasped in disbelief. It was him, yet at the same time it wasn't. This was not the shriveled husk of a man who had been poisoned by red lyrium that Rajmael watched die. No. This man stood tall and proud, with all the might and bearing of a true Dalish hunter. This was the Junnarel that Rajmael remembered, the man who raised him as his second son.

"Welcome, Rajmael." Junnarel greeted with that big smile of his. His voice was so strong and clear, not distorted and weak like before.

"I don't understand." Rajmael confessed. "Are you truly the spirits of my family? Or are you just more pretenders seeking to lead me astray?"

Junnarel placed his strong hand on Rajmael's shoulder and continued to walk with him. "I know that your faith has been shaken, da'len. It is always difficult to maintain faith when the gods have always failed us. But our people are still waiting for a sign of change, something to guide us to a better life. And they found that in you, Rajmael. Don't lose faith in our people, our culture, our spirit. None have fought more bravely for our people than you, my son. Go now, know that you carry the strength of our people with you."

The realm grew darker as Rajmael continued his walk. It was like walking in a realm of twilight. His steps were not as heavy as when he arrived; the words of his family was lifting his spirit. Until he came across the next phantom. The very visage of the man standing before him made Rajmael's heart cringe inside his chest. It was his brother, Nethras.

"Andaran atish'an, Little Brother." Nethras smiled. The jagged scar that trailed down the left side of his face was gone, and he no longer wore the vallaslin that honored Elgar'nan, but was now wearing the mark of Andruil, the vallaslin that her grew up with. It was like all traces of his time as Vir Banal'ras was gone. Nethras didn't greet Rajmael as an enemy, but welcomed him as a brother.

Rajmael stood with his mouth agape. Once again, Nethras stood before him after he was supposed to die. But Rajmael knew he was dead, he killed his brother with his own hand. An act that still tormented Rajmael's soul.

"Well, that's a fine hello, Rajmael." Nethras chuckled. "You could at least say something, instead of standing there like an idiot. You remember what our mother used to say? That if we stand with our mouths open, a bird would fly in and poop in it?"

Rajmael finally shook himself awake and tried to get the words to stumble out of his mouth. "Nethras...I'm so sorry."

"Don't be." Nethras said sternly. "I chose my path, just as you did. We dueled, you won, and it was an honor. You acted with honor even when I cursed you as a traitor, but I was wrong. You got this world back on its feet even when everyone was spitting on you as a heathen. I meant what I said back in Nehn'numinas: I was always proud to call you my brother." Nethras pointed forward, urging him to keep going. "You represent all that is great in our people. Now go show this magister what the true strength of the elves is."

Rajmael did as his brother bade, that sense of guilt he felt washed away.

"Rajmael!" Nethras called back sorrowfully. "I...know I don't have the right to ask you this, but...will you tell Eva that I'm sorry I couldn't be a father to her? Would you tell her I love her?"

Rajmael looked back to Nethras. "I would be honored, Nethras. And thanks for the sword."

"You'll do more with the Sulevin than I ever could. Dareth shiral, my brother."

The world became as dark as midnight, but Rajmael kept walking forward. He didn't know if any of this was real, but the guilt he once carried like a heavy burden on his back was gone. His footsteps were no longer so heavy. Now he could see something up ahead. A spark of light in all this darkness. Was this the destination he was meant to go to?

There was one last figure waiting for him. The silhouette of a person as familiar as his own heartbeat. Rajmael didn't even need to see that face to know who it was. It was someone he could never forget, someone he never thought he'd see again.

"Evanura?" Rajmael's voice was barely audible with disbelief. This wasn't some random spirit posing as her, this was truly the first woman he fell in love with.

"Andaran atish'an, lethallin." Evanura greeted with her beautiful voice. Evanura's beauty shined like a torch in all this darkness. Her platinum blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders, and her eyes beautiful, deep green eyes shimmered like two perfect emeralds. The vallaslin on her slender face that honored Sylaise added to the exoticness of her beauty. Her delicate skin was like the first fallen snow of winter. Evanura was the very embodiment of elven beauty, and her daughter inherited every bit of it.

"Evanura...can you ever forgive me?" Rajmael wept. "Your death, it was all my fault. I took you away from Eva"

Evanura placed her soft hands on his face and looked at him with, her own eyes filled with tears. "There's nothing to forgive, lethallin. You have more than repaid any debt you felt you owed me by adopting and raising my baby."

"Eva is my whole world, Evanura." Rajmael confessed.

"And now you have someone new in your life, a woman to love and people to protect." Evanura spoke gently. "You have done so much for our people, for the whole world. You make us all so proud."

"I am...only what you all taught me to be." Rajmael said. At this moment, he felt all the weight and burden of all the guilt and doubt he carried lifted off his shoulders. His spirit was so light, he felt he could soar.

"Now go. Do what you were born to do. Remind this world of the strength of the elvhen spirit." Evanura held her hand out to him, and Rajmael gently took it in his. "Fly...Rajmael."

**~XoXoXo~**

Corypheus' laughter died in his throat at the sight Rajmael flying out of the pillar of flame that the dragon spat down on him. A new wave of hope filled his companions as they watched the Inquisitor sail through the air at the corrupted dragon, the Sulevin held high over his head blazing with power. The wretched beast never saw it coming.

_**"ENASALIN!"**_ Rajmael's war cry not only once again echoed throughout the entire Temple of Sacred Ashes, but throughout the entire Frostback Mountains. From Gherlen's Pass to the Frostback Basin, and seen all the way from Skyhold, the entire world felt the power of Rajmael's death blow. The Sulevin's blade burned like a column of white fire that burned hotter than any dragon's breath sliced through the corrupted dragon's serpentine neck. Waves of black blood erupted from the severed stump where the dragon's head used to be and completely drenched Rajmael in its vile ichor. The corrupted dragon's disgusting head and body landed on the ground with a resounding crash. The monster's headless corpse clawed and writhed as though it were in agony until the final torrents of blood spewed from it severed wound. Rajmael landed on the ground, completely covered in blood, but not a single wound on him.

An immense spark of black and red magic emerged from the dragon's rancid carcass like a parasite seeking a new host. And it found it's new host, or original one to be precise. The dragon's life force flew over to Corypheus and reentered his body, as welcomed and painful as a flesh-eating disease and filling him with rage. Corypheus' ability to die had returned.

"Let it end here! Let the skies boil, and the world be ripped asunder!" Corypheus roared in furious anguish. He held the Orb high in his claw, forcing the Breach to grow wider than ever before. If it continued, it would swallow the whole world. "If this world refuses to have a true god, then this world need not even exist!"

A flame of unstoppable resolve burned brightly in Rajmael's golden eyes. He held the Sulevin tightly in his grip and looked back to his companions. "Let's end this."

With their leader returned to them from the jaws of certain death, all traces of doubt, fear and uncertainty burned away. There was nothing that could stop them now. Even as the Breach grew larger, they knew there was nothing that could stand in there way. Corypheus was not a god. He was just a freak. A monster born of vile magic in a vile era. It was true that he was evil incarnate, but evil must always be purged. And Corypheus had postponed his judgment for far too long.

Rajmael led the charge to the top of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. And there he was. Corypheus. The Elder One. The Conductor of Silence. Just as real, malevolent and angry as he was when they first saw him at Haven. However, this time, there was none of them were afraid of him. They knew what he truly was. At every turn he made, every plot he schemed, they foiled him, proved him a failure.

In his foolish attempt to bring doom to the world, he once again used too much of the Orb of Destruction's power, greatly weakening himself in his fury. But now he was completely mortal. Now he had nothing. No Venatori fanatics to worship him. No Red Templars to throw at his enemies. And now, no dragon to grant him immortality. He now had nothing to protect him from the Inquisitor, and his _very_ pissed off companions.

"Let's fuck his shit up!" Iron Bull yelled, charging the weakened magister.

"Nya-ha! Have a nice, hot serving of arrows, Coryphi-dick!" Sera giggled maniacally, firing shot after shot of flaming arrows at Corypheus.

"I hope you remember Bianca, asshole! Because she remembers you!" Varric yelled while firing more of those lyrium bomb grenades that the real Bianca left him.

Dorian conjured a powerful glyph that launched a swarm of fireballs at Corypheus. "Let's see you pull a dragon out of your ass this time."

Blackwall held his mace tightly in his fist, charged the powerful lightning of the ancient Avvar weapon. It crackled like a storm in his fist, and he hurled it at the creature who created the Blights. It exploded like rumbling thunder against Corypheus' body. "That was for Adamant, and all the Blights you created, you sick bastard."

"You've hurt so many people. You will never hurt anyone ever again!" Cole swore angrily as he expertly threw his daggers at Corypheus. He disappeared and darted around their enemy like a ghost, delivering deep cuts and gashes with his daggers in each hand.

"Time to send you back to oblivion, where filth like you belongs." Vivienne condemned. The Imperial Enchanter struck her staff to the ground and four glyphs materialized around Corypheus. Four massive icicles shot out of the glyphs and stabbed Corypheus on all sides.

"It's time to give back what you've stolen, Corypheus." Solas demanded. The elven apostate connected his magic with the Veil and tore open a small hole to the Fade. White swords of ethereal energy flew from the Fade and skewered Corypheus' body like needles pinning a moth.

"This is one is for Haven!" Cassandra snarled as she furiously stabbed her sword into the ground, concentrating all her willpower and strength to purge as much magic from Corypheus as possible. It was the strongest anti-magical assault she had ever done, enough to wipe out several Pride Demons. Corypheus was still far too powerful for that attack to kill him or even burn all his mana, but it made him discover the true meaning of pain. Cassandra charged the object of her hatred and buried her sword so deep into his abdomen it went straight through his back. "And that was for Divine Justinia."

Corypheus struck Cassandra away with his claw and ripped her sword out of his body. He was not finished yet. All their attacks did was make him even angrier. He conjured a wall of red magic that sent them all flying back. Corypheus grabbed the orb in both his hands and charged it for another powerful attack. An immense stream of destructive energy blasted from the orb with the intensity of the sun and came down upon the Inquisitor and his companion. _**"BURN YOU MISERABLE INSECTS!"**_

Rajmael stood right in front of the blast and blocked it with the Sulevin. Instead of killing the elf where he stood, the blast was redirected off the Sulevin's blade like a mirror and shot upwards like a pillar of energy straight towards the shattered heavens. Corypheus' attack failed again, and the orb had taken even more out of him. The Inquisitor's aura burned like a star, and he dashed at his enemy, lunging his sword like a lance to deliver the killing blow. The Sulevin went straight in Corypheus' chest and pierced his vile, black heart and twisted it.

Streams of black blood gushed out of Corypheus' grotesque mouth he staggered backwards in horrible agony when the Inquisitor yanked his sword out. Corypheus fell to his knees, desperately trying to reach the Orb of Destruction, the only thing he had left. Rajmael activated the Anchor in his palm, felt it finally begin to connect with the object that created it. Magical energy and lightning crackled from the unstably from the Orb when Corypheus made one last desperate attempt to use its power.

"NO! Not like this! I have walked the halls of the Golden City, tasted the secrets of life and death, crossed the ages." Corupheus cried desperately trying to make one last dire attempt to use the Orb's power. Magical energy spewed and crackled unstably from the ancient foci, the ancient magister had used too much of its power, it had nothing left to give him. Corypheus finally begged the only ones who could possibly aid him. "Dumat, Old Gods of the Imperium, I beseech you! If you exist, if you ever truly existed, aid me now!"

Rajmael used the power of the Anchor to summon the Orb to his hand, shattering Corypheus' jaw when it flew out of his grip. The Elder One fell to his knees in defeat. The Inquisitor raised the Orb to the sky, felt his whole being connect with this ancient relic of his people, and his will linked to the Breach. Rajmael looked down on his fallen enemy with vengeance in his eyes. Corypheus would be punished for eternity.

"You wanted into the Fade, Corypheus? I will grant your wish. And when you get there, tell them a knife-ear sent you." Rajmael condemned and used the Orb's magic to banish Corypheus to the farthest reach of the Fade and sealed the Breach behind him. This would be Corypheus' punishment, to trapped within the fade, lost in eternal silence. A fitting end for a madman who had the arrogance to claim divinity. The Breach and the Elder One were now gone from this world forever.

The Orb fell to the ground completely inert, too much of its power had been used. Without the Orb's magic to hold it up, the Temple of Sacred Ashes came crashing back down to the earth below. All of them fell to the floor and braced for impact. The floor broke apart beneath their feet and they all came crashing down.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael woke up amongst the shattered ruins of what was left of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Not even recovered for a decade after being lost for a thousand years, and it was utterly destroyed. Rajmael was too tired and in too much pain to even let the irony register. The dust hadn't even settled yet, and Rajmael couldn't see any of his companions. Where were they? Rajmael dreaded the thought that after all this, he was the only survivor.

Rajmael spotted Solas nearby and felt a little relieved. The older elf was kneeling before the shattered remains of the Orb of Destruction. What was once a powerful, vibrant relic, was now as lifeless and cold as stone. He picked up the ruined pieces with pain on his face and the verge of tears. Rajmael could feel Solas' pain. Yet another irreplaceable piece of elvhen heritage abused and destroyed by selfish and ignorant human hands. What's more, that it was used to cause so much terror and destruction. All the things they could have done for their people if they had recovered it. The elves were poorer for its lost.

"Solas?" Rajmael beckoned.

"The Orb..." Solas wept, his tear falling on the ruined fragments.

"I know you wanted to save the Orb, hahren. I am so sorry." Rajmael said sympathetically. First the Well of Sorrows, now this. Was there nothing this world didn't take from their people?

"It is not _your_ fault." Solas breathed, vainly trying to hid his heartbreak. He stood back to his feet and Rajmael saw a strange glint hidden behind his eyes. Like he was not finished but merely starting.

"There's more to this, isn't there?"

"It was never supposed to happen this way." Solas answered cryptically, hanging his head in shame. "No matter what comes next, Rajmael, you shall always have my respect. You truly represent all that is great in our people."

"Rajmael! Are you alive?!" Cassandra called hopefully.

The Inquisitor looked to the bottom of the ruined stairs to see all his companions there, alive and whole. Morrigan was limping towards him with the rest of them, but was completely unharmed. Dorian was doing his best to hold Iron Bull up, who was propped on his shoulder. Varric had the widest grin he ever had on his face, and Blackwall's bearded face beamed with pride. Cassandra's face was washed with joy to see the man she loved standing there, her smile was beautiful.

"Victorious, I see. And you've survived. What an ideal outcome." Morrigan spoke. While her voice may have had its trademark satirical tone, she was nonetheless extremely impressed with what they had accomplished.

"And the sky is healed. Healthy. Whole. Spirits no longer raging and confused." Cole said happily. "There is only that to remind us."

Cole pointed up to the sky. An aura borealis shimmered across the sky like a ripple of vibrant colors. A scar from where the sky was once wounded, a permanent reminder of how close this world came to annihilation.

"So...what now, Inquisitor?" Iron Bull asked eagerly.

Rajmael looked back up the stairs expecting to Solas, but he was nowhere to be found. Where was he? Why did he leave so quickly? He looked back to his companions with a smile on his face. "Now, we go back to Skyhold."

"Oh, I certainly hope so." Dorian sighed. "Maker knows I could certainly use a drink right about now."

"I'll be Ruffles will have one helluva party waiting for us when we get there." Varric laughed. "I hope you're all ready to be swarmed by hundreds of adoring fans."

Scout Harding and the other Inquisition soldier approached them. All of them beheld the Inquisitor and his party with looks of awe and disbelief. Harding stood there with proud, happy smile on her face. She never had a doubt in her mind that they would win.

**Skyhold...**

The Inquisitor and his companions received a hero's welcome when they walked through the gates of the keep. The whole of the Frostback Mountains echoed with the happy cries and laughter of all that had gathered here. Not since when Aedan Cousland slew the Archdemon Urthemiel in Denerim had so many celebrated so joyously. Never before in recorded history did so many pay give so much respect and reverence to an elf.

The Inquisitor walked up the steps to his keep amongst the cheering crowds, and saw his advisors standing there waiting for him. All three of the bowed smilingly to the man who saved the world, and he in turn bowed back to them. He knew full well that if it weren't for their council when he needed it and the skills they possessed that he lacked, he never would have gotten the Inquisition to where it is now. Rajmael looked down at the crowed of people cheering for him, humans, elves, dwarves, faithful and heathens alike, and was humbled by their joy and gratitude. Never in all his life could he have dreamed that he would be the bringer of so much joy. The Inquisitor's companions and advisors all made their way inside, it was time to enjoy the long awaited party.

"Inquisitor, a word?" Leliana asked requested. "My agents can find no trace of Solas. He's simply vanished. If he does not wish to be found, then I doubt we will find him, but I will keep looking."

"It doesn't make any sense." Rajmael conceded. "After choosing to stay and help us fight in all those terrible battles, why would he just up and leave after we attained victory?"

"I am told he was very upset about the loss of the Orb." Leliana reminded.

"No. It was more than just the Orb. Something must be wrong. Have your people keep searching, but remember: Solas is our friend, not an enemy."

"Understood." Leliana and Rajmael both walked into the keep to join in the festivities, and Leliana let her happy self come out. "With Corypheus defeated, we finally have a moment to stop and properly celebrate. Afterwards you will be busy. Even now, every noble in Southern Thedas are lining up to meet you."

"Oh, for the love of...What do they want from me now?" Rajmael groaned.

"You cannot be serious." Leliana giggled. "You have won, defeated the greatest threat in Thedas sense the last Blight. Now everyone wants to bask in your glory in the hopes that some of it will rub off on them. Empress Celene owes you her life as well as her throne, and Marquis Briala and the elves of Orlais owe you their future. A thousand problems remain, and your opinion be sought for each one, whether you want to or not."

"Oh, so you mean only after I've killed the bad guy, suffered innumerable traumas, was denied any real aid, and almost died more times than I've had breakfast, they decide that I'm important enough to meet with." Rajmael responded sarcastically.

"Alas, such is the way of politics." Leliana laughed. "Originally you were an upstart; a Dalish elf leading a band of rebels and heretics that the Chantry denounced. Until Corypheus revealed himself, no one could see what hand was moving behind all the chaos. One he did, they knew: a darkspawn and a magister all in one creature. The ultimate evil. You and the Inquisition are now the only power left standing."

That last sentence actually scared Rajmael. He didn't join the Inquisition for power's sake, but now he wielded more power than the empress. A frightening prospect.

"Enjoy the festivities while you can, Inquisitor. Maker knows you've earned it." Leliana bade and walked off to go follow her own advice.

Rajmael decided to put off the mystery of Solas' departure and forget about the upcoming problems of the world, and enjoy the party. Leliana was right, he earned it, they all did. Tragedy and destruction brought them all together. Their mission kept them together. Now, they can all celebrate together. Dorian and Iron Bull were having drinks together, chatting it up like there was no tomorrow, without the taboos of the Qun or Imperium overshadowing them.

Blackwall and Cullen stood quietly by the fireplace, mugs in hand. Neither of them were much for pomp and ceremony, but both of them were veteran soldiers who fought for terrible causes that took its toll on their lives. Cullen with his years serving under Knight-Commander Meredith, and Blackwall with the crimes he committed as Thom Ranier. Both of them found resolution and redemption in following the Inquisition. Now they could have a couple drinks and relax without having to worry about the world falling to pieces.

"Now, I shit you not, I thought for sure the Inquisitor was done for. Then the Inquisitor flies right out of that pillar of colored fire screaming_ 'Enasalin'_ at top of his lungs, not a scratch on him, and he knocked that dragon's head right off in one clean strike. Corypheus and the dragon never saw it coming!" For this first time since joining the Inquisition, was doing what he did best: bragging about other people's exploits while throwing a healthy load of bullshit in there. A group of wide-eyed soldiers and labormen hung on his every word with bated breath. It was good to finally see Varric in his natural element: a mug clenched in his hand with Bianca on the table, and a bunch of eager listeners actually believing what he said.

Cole wasn't amongst the various people who were gathering around Varric to listen to him talk. Instead, the former Spirit of Compassion was sitting in front of the lady bard of the Inquisition's tavern, Maryden. She was singing a song of victory that she had composed for this day. And while it certainly seemed that Cole enjoyed the song, it was painfully obvious that he enjoyed watching Maryden even more. The young bard winked at Cole, making him blush like a ripe tomato and hid his face bashfully beneath his hat. Maryden laughed at Cole's adorability and continued her song, if only to coax Cole's face out from under that hat of his.

Rajmael was very surprised to see Morrigan and Leliana actually talking with each other, and even sharing a drink. Under any other circumstances, he would have thought the world was indeed coming to an end. These two dangerous and powerful women had more in common then they would care to admit. Both women of strong conviction. And both of them had aided and contributed to a cause that saved the world from total annihilation. Once during the Blight, and now again with Corypheus. Now was not the time for their old grudges, but a time to celebrate and be thankful for what they had.

Sera sat at the banquet table with a whole duck, a honeyed ham, a plate of baked shrimp, three different pies, and six tall mugs of beer. Where the hell did she pack all that? In between mouthfuls of food and loud belching, the Red Jenny laughed it up with the kitchen servants and exchanged dirty jokes about pompous nobles and who she shot Corypheus in the crotch. Her language was as humorous as it was colorful. She never had a care when Corypheus was alive, she certainly had none now.

Vivienne surrounded her with the nobility and gentry that had attended the celebration. They laughed, sipped their wine and talked about how the Inquisitor slew Corypheus. Vivienne gave an ample, vivid description like she could paint a picture with words. The nobles gasped and shuddered like frightened children what the Inquisitor fought against, and lauded Madame de Fer's courage and fortitude to stand with the Herald of Andraste and what he endured. Surely she must have the courage and fortitude of the stongest Chevaliers to stand with the Andraste's blessed chosen through such ordeals. Even now, be it magic or the nobility, Vivienne was capable of bending powerful forces to her will.

Even in the midst of celebration and revelry, Josephine was still unable to stop nit-picking and fussing over every detail. Did they have enough wine? Did the caterers bring enough cakes? Will they have enough pies if Sera keeps eating them like this? Leliana finally convinced her old friend to put her clipboard down and join her for a drink, and after a few glasses, the Ambassador finally allowed herself to relax. Josephine and Leliana talked and laughed as good friends always do. And for the first time, Josephine shed her ladylike demeanor and allowed herself to brag about their accomplishments and bask in pride at what they accomplished. They might never have another chance to celebrate like this again, and Josephine wanted to savor it not as an ambassador, but as a valued friend.

Scout Harding sat at the table with a mug in her hands, shifting anxiously in her seat. On her left was a very tipsy Siobhan, all the wine she was consuming was stripping her of what few inhibitions she had. On her right, was Captain Isabella. The Rivaini pirate was intentionally leaning over and showing off her generous cleavage to the redheaded scout. Harding wasn't sure how much more of this she could take, or even what she should do. But maybe after a few more mugs of liquid courage, she'd think something. This was a night to remember, and Maker help her, she was gonna make some memories.

The festivities went on through the night, and Rajmael had no doubt that they would continue on well past morning. He would have loved to stay with them and partied until he puked, but after defeating a would-be god, and having a life-after-death experience, all he wanted right now was some peace and quiet, maybe a nap. So he decided to head to his room. All his companions and friends raised their glasses and toasted him as he left the hall.

"Leaving so soon, Rajmael?" Cassandra asked. "Do you mind if I join you."

"There's no one I'd rather be with right now, ma vhenan." Rajmael smiled.

The two lovers walked hand in hand to Rajmael's balcony and watched the sun rise together. After everything he had been through, he wanted to be nowhere else but with her.

"Everything is about to change." Cassandra sighed worriedly. "You'll be drawn into a hundred different directions in the months to come. You'll...be taken from me."

"Cassandra?" Rajmael asked concerned.

"It's nothing...it's just that..." Cassandra wrapped her arms around Rajmael and buried her face into his chest. "When that dragon's fire consumed you, I thought you were dead. I felt my heart stop inside my chest and I wished that I had died with you. And then, you came back to me. Sometimes the Maker is kind."

Rajmael held Cassandra's face in his hands and wiped the joyful tear from her cheek. "I came back because I had someone to come back to. I've already lost people that I loved, I wasn't going to let myself be taken from you and Eva. You mean everything to me."

Cassandra held Rajmael's hand to her face, feeling his warmth spread through her whole being. "I know you are not a believer, but the Maker brought you into my life, and I have never known joy like I feel with you. Thank you for giving me your heart, my love."

"I love you, Cassandra. With all my heart." Those were all the words he needed to say. The two lovers from different races and backgrounds embraced in a passionate kiss filled with all the love they had for one another. Both of them had lost so much, yet found so much in each other. Corypheus was no more, and tomorrow's problems could wait. Right now, all that mattered was that he was the man she loved, and she was the woman he gave his heart to. There was nothing else they wanted to be.

**~Epilogue~**

**The World:**

While Corypheus had been defeated and banished forever beyond the farthest reaches of the Fade, his influence would be felt for years to come. The sky had been permanently scarred by his almost successful attempts to make himself a god over this world. The living would forever be scarred by the memory of the Elder One, and those memories would haunt this world for generations to come. Pockets of the Venatori survived their master's death and retreated into hiding throughout the world. They would continue to worship The Elder One and attempt to inflict chaos in the name of their master. In a twisted way, Corypheus got his wish and attained godhood.

However, the people would remember the Inquisition even more. How an upstart group of rebels banned together to stand up to the ultimate evil, and struck him down. The scarred sky would forever remind the people that the greater the darkness, the stronger the light. The Inquisition would inspire many great heroes for ages to come. In trying to destroy the world, Corypheus helped inspire something even greater that he could never imagine: Hope.

The red lyrium would remain a continuing threat on the world that became hard to eradicate. Many would make vain attempts to harness or weaponize it with disastrous results. While the Inquisition did its best to destroy the red lyrium, there was no end of fools who wished to recreate the Elder One's use of red lyrium. There were even rumors that Orzammar wished to recreate it as a weapon against the darkspawn.

Attempts at rebuilding Southern Thedas proved difficult. The damage done to both Ferelden and Orlais made the distribution of relief an arduous task, and there were many who wished to exploit this chaos. With the Inquisition's aid, the many displaced and dispossessed people of the South were provided relief, aid, and hope. The Inquisition provided to all the people who were in need. Human, elven, dwarves, and even the few qunari. None were denied aid, and all were given protection.

Never in all the history of the world had there been an age with so many heroes to inspire the best in all people. King Maric the Savior. King Alistair the Protector. Aedan Cousland, the Hero of Ferelden. Garret Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall. And now, Inquisitor Rajmael Lavellan.

**The Chantry:**

In the months that followed Corypheus' death, the Grand Clerics appointed Sister Nightingale as the successor to the Sunburst Throne. Given the name Divine Victoria I, she proves controversial from the very start. She first declares and end to the Circle of Magi and allows the mages to govern themselves. She opens the priesthood to both men and women, and all races. Declares support for the Inquisition, and rededicates the Chantry to the principles of charity and acceptance.

There were many who felt that Victoria's new changes were too dangerous and contentious. Several sects arose in resistance to her reforms, declaring her a danger to the faith. Instead of meeting them with steel and flames, Divine Victoria met with their leaders with an open hand and a gentle heart. Miraculously, her words take root and much bloodshed is avoided. For now, the Chantry remains united.

True to his word, Rajmael gave no assistance to the rebuilding of the Chantry, even as they groaned for his help and the many hundreds of faithful urged him. Maintaining his stance that the Inquisition stood for order not religion, he refused to place any faith above another's. And because was not an Andrastian himself, he felt it would be hypocritical for him to endorse an institution for faith he didn't believe in.

This act sowed seeds of resentment and many fanatics soon rose and declared the Inquisition, and its heathen leader, to be against the faith. Some within the Chantry demanded the Inquisition's dissolution. Many still refused to accept a Dalish Elf as the chosen of Andraste, nor did they wish to see a heathen elf stand so high above them.

These voices were quickly put down by the many grateful people who were protected by the Inquisition when the Chantry did nothing, and remembered that it was the Chantry that helped start this chaos. Divine Justinia calmed the fears of those in White Spire by reminding them of Inquisitor Rajmael's continued good deeds and reminded them that Thane Shartan, an elf, was the personal champion of Andraste.

**The Mages:**

The Inquisition's mages, the former rebels led by Grand Enchanter Fiona, are left with a choice. When the Divine disbands the Circles, they leave the Inquisition and reform the College of Magi as a new order. The College will allow all mages of the South to gather in peace find new solutions to age-old problems. For now, it seems to be working. Mages are enjoying unprecedented freedom and acceptance throughout Thedas.

Some are worried that without the mages having any oversight, they risk recreating the crisis at Kirkwall, or even a new Imperium. But many are reminded that this chaos occurred from trying to treat mages as threats and criminals, rather than people. And after seeing the good things mages have accomplished, many people are ready to treat mages as their brothers rather than nightmares.

**Orlais:**

The mighty Empire of Orlais had been greatly weakened by the intensity of the civil war. Empress Celene Valmont I retains her position on the Golden Throne, but has a monumental task ahead of her. Fortunately, Celene meets this challenge head-on with all the grace and insight of a true empress. Soon, Orlais once again becomes the heart of culture, art, and learning in Southern Thedas, and Celene it greatest patron.

Many attribute this remarkable recovery to Celene's ladylove, Marquis Briala, the first elf to ever be granted lands and titles in Orlesian history. Many wonder how long this reunion may last. For now, the two lovers, their hearts rekindled, seem content to leave the past where it is, and help the empire move forward to a better future.

Because of Gaspard's death at the hands of the Inquisitor and the intensity of the civil war, Orlais' once unmatchable military might had been vastly reduced. The number of Chevaliers left alive was so few that many feared that they might not recover. Academie de Chevalier's halls now stood empty, with not enough people coming to train, or even instructors to train them. With Celene more focused on art and commerce rather than military, many of the remaining generals and officers now fear for the security of their empire. Some even begin looking to the Inquisition to replace their army, all in the name of order.

**Ferelden:**

With the deaths of so many of Ferelden's lords and nobles at the Conclave, many of the Bannorn looked to the Inquisition for protection. Many, lords even began to defer to the Inquisition's judgment on matters of law. The famously stubborn dog-lords showed great respect for the accomplishment and deeds of the Inquisition, more honor than they had even given the Grey Wardens. The Fereldan people would forever be grateful to Inquisitor Rajmael for assisting them in their time of need.

With the Blight and the previous civil war still taking its toll on the kingdom, and now the events of this crisis, King Alistair and Queen Anora welcomed the assistance of the Inquisition. It had been the first time in Fereldan history when its monarchs openly welcomed so much outside assistance. In time, the kingdom of Ferelden would return to its full strength.

But not everyone in Ferelden saw the Inquisition as the beacon of light and protection that others saw. Some were resentful for the Inquisitor pardoning the rebel mages after they burned down so many homes and lives. Others in the Bannorn saw another possible foreign oppressor. With so much reverence and so man deferring to the Inquisition's judgment, how long would it take for the Inquisition to try an impose its own laws on Ferelden? This would be a deep concern in the future.

**The Grey Wardens:**

The Grey Wardens of the South slowly rebuild in the months following the events at Adamant. The atrocities committed by them would be a blemish on the Order for generations to come. Some traveled eastward to Ferelden to join under the command of Warden-Commander Nathaniel Howe in hopes of restoring their shamed honor. The rest declare it time for the Order to emerge from the shadows, to join with the rest of the world in their fight against their ancient foes.

Rumor abound that they severed ties with their leaders at Weisshaupt, and that a bitter shadow war now rages between them. What happens to Hawke when he arrives there is unknown, save that all news out of Weisshaupt soon ends. Does the sudden silence indicate a battle within...or something far worse.

When news stopped, rumors soon flew. Some said that Hawke thwarted an attempt to depose the king of the Anderfels and stopped a darkspawn invasion. And others declared that Aedan Cousland showed up at that ancient fortress, and brought his former brothers and sisters to heel with his legendary wrath. But none can truly know the truth.

**The Avvar:**

After the death of Corypheus, and winning one of the greatest fights in history, many of the Avvarian tribesman return to their homes in the Frostback mountains. Twice in a single lifetime, the world had seen the might and fortitude of the hearty mountain people in a time of crisis.

With so much exposure to the outside world, many wanted to continue interacting with the lowlanders. Thanks to the wisdom of Thane Svarrah Sun-Hair and Shaman Siobahn Skin-Changer, many Holds now opened new passes and trading routes through their mountains. The Avvar Mountain men now enjoy more wealth and plenty than they have ever known, and without needing to raid the southern lands.

**The Elves:**

For the first time in history, since the Fall of the Dales, the elves of Southern Thedas enjoyed more rights and freedoms than they had ever known. Not ten years ago, King Alistair had granted the lands of Ostagar to the Dalish clan of Ferelden, and appointed Shianni Tabris as the Bann of the Denerim Alienage. Now Inquisitor Rajmael and Marquis Briala stood as beacons of hope for both the elves of the city and in the forests.

Under Maquis Briala, the elves of Orlais are now seen as equal citizens of the empire and possess all rights therein. Alienage walls are torn down and no longer does the nobility have the right to abuse or mistreat an elf. In Wycome, the members of Clan Lavellan are seen as heroes to the people of the city. Keeper Deshana now sits on the newly founded Wycome City Council with two other elves, and all of them look for ways to better the lives of all the city's people. Wycome and Halamshiral soon becomes a waypoints for Dalish elves to come trade and reconnect with their city elven kin.

News of The Temple of Mythal's discovery spread like wildfire amongst the scholars of Thedas. Many wished to enter the temple to study it, but the Inquisitor forbade it. The temple was sacred to the elves and must be treated with reverence. Many Dalish and city elves came to this sacred place to learn more of their once mighty ancestors and rediscover who they are. Soon, the Temple of Mythal became a safe haven for the young mages of the Dalish clans. With this place to keep them safe, they no longer needed to perform of the barbaric practice of maintaining only a few elves and discarding who they couldn't keep. This act brought much joy to the People.

Many within the Chantry felt offended with the existence of a temple devoted to an elven god. They declared it to be heresy and demanded it to be destroyed. Divine Justinia held back such action by reminding them that the true faithful did not need to be threatened by the heritage and beliefs of others. Some heard the wisdom of Victoria's words, while others only backed down for fear of the Inquisition and its _elven_ leader.

A wave of controversy swept through Orlais and the Chantry when the truth of Inquisitor Ameridan came to light. Many within the empire and the Chantry tried to deny the evidence that one of the most important figures in the Chantry's foundation was an elf as lies and heresy, but Professor Kenric's evidence was irrefutable. All the noble houses of Orlais who claimed to descend from Ameridan were forced large settlements to the Dalish for falsely profiting from a name they had no claim to for centuries. Professor Kenric was greatly honored and vindicated for his discoveries and devotion to the truth.

Mother Giselle and others began a small movement to make amends to the elves for the centuries of abuse they had suffered that the Chantry allowed. Many history books are now being rewritten to recognize the contributions the elven people have made over the centuries. The movement is met with some hostility, but Mother Giselle and Divine Victoria state that the truth is more important than age-old grudges and foolish pride.

Rajmael returned to the Bastion of Elgar'nan in the hopes of finding what was left of the Vir banal'ras, but found the ancient temple to be completely deserted. The only trace of their existence he found was the now dried basin that contained Elgar'nan's Blessing, and a set of old but bloody knives. The Vir banal'ras had returned to the world. The shadows and silence would now be agents of elven vengeance. In a small way, Nethras' will was still being carried out.

Many throughout Southern Thedas felt threatened by the sudden rise of elven power. Never before in recorded history had the human nations been so weak, or the elven people so strong. Some feared that with this newfound strength coupled with centuries of resentment, the elves would attempt to overthrow the humans. Some even begin whispering for another war to keep the elves from rising against them. However, no such action is taken. With Empress Celene and Divine Victoria fully supporting this new change, there is little anyone can do about the elven people's new standing in the world.

**The Inquisition:**

What started off as a mere band of rebels doing what they believed to be right, has now evolved into an institution to rival nations. Through trade and commerce, Skyhold soon becomes a massive trading hub between Ferelden and Orlais, with direct access to Orzammar, Skyhold now has enough wealth to stabilize or topple entire economies. Once the Montilyets stood on the brink of ruin, now every noble and court in Thedas vies for Ambassador Josephine's advice and diplomacy. Many a knight and noble now duel and rival for her favor, either as an advisor or as an offer of marriage. It had been centuries since the Montilyets had known such prosperity, and Josephine's action had secured her family's legacy.

Many knights, soldiers and mercenaries flock together to join the Inquisition's growing ranks. Templars, Antivan Crows, Chevaliers, Dalish Hunters and even Ash Warriors now add to the formidable strength of Skyhold's army. While they may not have had the numbers to equal any kingdom's forces, their diverse training and formidability made them more than enough to rival any army. Under Commander Cullen's instruction, undisciplined farmhands now train to rival veteran knights. Cullen was often seen training his men and maintaining their discipline, if only to avoid the many marriage proposals that poured on his desk.

Leliana stayed on for a time and continued to serve as Spymaster for the Inquisition. The secrets she gathered was enough to turn the tide of any battle in their favor without ever having to lift a weapon. However, in time, she had to leave her post in order to fulfill her obligations to the Chantry when she was named Divine. Knowing how important it was that the Inquisition's spy network remained untouched, Leliana trained Scout Harding, Agent Charter and Rector to act as he replacements. While Leliana continued to gather information for the Inquisition while also serving as Divine, she now had time to pursue her lifelong dream of breeding her own herd of nugs.

No one, especially not Rajmael could have predicted the events his life would take. Once, merely a Dalish tribesman and content to be just that, he now sat in a position of power on his own throne, with enough authority and influence to rival kingdoms and empires. Some looked to him as a leader who could bring order where many other leaders failed. While others saw him as a Herald of their faith, meant to shepherd them in dark times. And to others, he was a target. The positon he held and the power he wielded became a threat to many powerful people, and they would seek his downfall for years to come.

Rajmael's once pious faith in the elven gods had been deeply shaken, but he never forsook his heritage or loyalty to his people. He did his to keep close connections with his adopted daughter, but the duties of the Inquisition often kept him busy. The mantle of leadership was heavy, and often Rajmael wished he could be rid of it, but his relationship with Cassandra made it much more tolerable, if only to stay close with the Nevarran princess he had come to love.

The Inquisitor knew that this was not the end, but merely a new chapter. There were many threats that still plagued the world, and his sense of honor forbade him from abandoning his post until the world was fully restored. In time, he may return to his people and to Eva, but for now, he would continue in his mission as Inquisitor to restore order to the world. He would show all enemies of the Inquisition the might and power of the elvhen spirit.

* * *

**Language Codex:**

**Asha'bellanar:** Elven, translates as _"Woman of Many Years"._

**Andaran atish'an:** Elven greeting, translates as _"Welcome to a safe place"._

**Dareth shiral:** Elven farewell, translates as _"Safe Journey"._

**Da'len:** Elven term for _"Child"._

**Ma Serannas:** Elven, translates as _"My thanks"._

**Lethallin:** Elven term of endearment for males. Akin to calling someone "cousin", "brother", or "clansmen".

**Bora'nan:** Elven weapon shaped like a sickle with a weighted chain on the handle. Translates as _"Flying Vengeance"._

**Sulevin:** Elven, translates as _"Purpose"._

**Garas Hanin, Falonen:** Elven phrase, translates as _"Come to Glory, My Comrades."_

**Vir Banal'ras:** Elven, translates as _"The Way of Shadow"._

**Enasalin:** Elven, translates as_ "Victory"._

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Alright! I've finally finished this! Sorry for the long wait everybody, but I wanted to make sure I got his right.**

**This was without a doubt, the longest, most time consuming chapter I have ever written.**

**Please review and give me your thoughts.**

**Please know that this is not the end of Rajmael's story.**

**I fully intend to take his story even further, with lots of awesome originality to go with it.**

**And because some of you actually care, I went back and redid that part with Sera in the previous chapter.**

**Because I am too kind, I've got another special thing coming soon for all my loyal readers.**

**I hope you all continue to read, review and enjoy.**


	38. Something Special

**Something Special**

Dear Readers,

Once again, I am sorry to get your hopes up. This is in fact another author's note to get your attention. But relax, this time I bring god tidings. In my previous chapters, I mentioned I was doing something special, well here it is: I commissioned the deviantart artist _**Enife**_ again to do more Dragon Age pictures of my characters. And, personally, I think she did another awesome job. Please look up _**Enife's**_ profile on her deviantart page to see what she has done. And please, leaver he a comment, she did some amazing work.

I am currently working on the next arc for this story. Hopefully, it won't take to long for me to finish and post. Rajmael's story is far from finished, so keep an eye out.

Sincerely and with fondest regards,

**_Powerslammer._**


	39. The Untold Chapters: Part I

**~The Untold Chapters: Part 1~**

After killing the Arishok in single combat, Garret Hawke became the first foreigner to ever be declared Champion of Kirkwall, one of highest honors in all the Free Marches. This title, and all the accolades that came with it, added to his already famous name. The very outline of Hawke's life made him the subject of many stories and songs, many of which were composed and embellished by Varric. From refugee to nobleman to protector of one of the largest city-states in the Free Marches. Hawke now had more wealth and fame than he knew he had ever dreamed of.

However, it was not all champagne and caviar. With this new title and fame, came all the grave responsibilities that followed. With the death of Viscount Dumar and the murder of his son Seamus, the Templars became extremely powerful, more so than they already were. Knight-Commander Meredith all but took control of the city, imposing her will on its citizens, and a new regime on the city. The already difficult lives of the city's mages became even more unbearable. The Gallows became a prison in all but name, and the city a police state. Some resisted, and Meredith cracked down harder. The harder she came down on them, the more desperate and inethical the mage's means became, which fueled Meredith's justification for her harsh treatment. It was a vicious and endless cycle.

The city was becoming a cauldron of anger and resentment, and it was one bad temper away from boiling over. Many looked to Grand Cleric Elthina to stop this madness, but she insisted on neutrality, giving support to neither one side or the other. Everyone, Mage and Templar, citizen and noble, ended up looking to one man who could possibly stem the tide: Garret Hawke.

**~XoXoXo~**

"I know you fear us!" First Enchanter Orsino yelled to the large crowd of people who had gathered in the Hightown square. In the years since Viscount Dumar's death in the second Qunari Invasion of Kirkwall, the First Enchanter had become a very outspoken critic of the Templars. Today was the largest crowd he had ever gathered, and he meant to get their attention. "Knight-Commander Meredith uses that fear to take control of _your_ city! She opposes any effort to replace Viscount Dumar, and you have seen the chaos of her reign! Will you allow it!?"

The crowd of gathered citizens and nobles murmured and spoke amongst themselves. Perhaps there was truth to his words. Many of them were growing tired of having Meredith trample on their rights, wanted to have a leader who would look out for them, not intimidate them. But then...

Speak of the demon, and she shall appear.

"Return to your homes. This farce is over." The Knight-Commander ordered with her infamous cold indifference. In an instant, everyone's spark of courage was smothered, and did what Meredith commanded.

"Wait!" Orsino yelled. "Perhaps there are some here who might disagree with you, Knight-Commander."

Everyone's attention was directed to the Champion of Kirkwall as he made his way through the crowd. Every pair of eyes looked at him with great respect, and all them wanted to hear him to act as their voice in this matter. Garret looked at both the First Enchanter and Knight-Commander with a deathly serious in his eyes.

"Champion, please. I've got a daughter in the Circle. Not all of them are a danger." One of the noble's pleaded.

"Serrah Hawke, the Templars are here to defend us, aren't they?" Asked another.

Garret approached the arguing mage and Templar calmly. He felt like the mediator between two lords in vicious land dispute at the Fereldan Landsmeet. Or worse, like a mediator between an arguing, hateful husband and wife going through a deadly separation.

"The Champion has proven himself Kirkwall's greatest protector. I doubt that he favors sedition." Meredith assured confidently.

"Don't put words in my mouth, Meredith. I can speak for myself." Hawke said harshly. "These arguments of yours are becoming more and more irksome."

"This is no argument, this is treason." Meredith growled.

"I think the Champion's views would be appreciated." Orsino pointed out. "Or do you fear what he has to say?"

"I fear nothing." Meredith said authoritatively. "My only interest is protecting the innocent and rooting out corruption."

"Is that what you call locking all the mages in their rooms like prisoners? Or using the Rite of Tranquility on ten people in a single month?!" Orsino demanded.

"What would you rather have? That those of you who are a danger be left unchecked? That the people of this city find out what you're actually doing and tear down the Gallows' walls with torches and pitchforks?" Meredith rebutted. "Would that be better?"

"It cannot be worse. Your refusal to listen to reason has left me no choice." Orsino argued.

"What I refuse to listen to are excuses. Perhaps you are ill-suited to your position if you cannot understand that?" The Knight-Commander threatened subtly.

"Maybe what you both need to do is shut up for a moment. All you're doing is making people nervous." Hawke interrupted, pointing to the many fearful looking faces in the crowd. "Orsino, do you truly think its wise to stir action against the Templars, given what they could do to you?"

"It's what they _have_ done to us that I am inciting action against her." Orsino insisted. "The people of this city need to know what is truly happening."

"The only thing that has happened is that I have performed my sworn to keep this city safe." Meredith shot back. "And I will continue to do so until all threats to this city are no more."

"So you'll just stonewall these people, deny them their right to choose their own leader, decide their own fate? None of this justifies how extreme your measures have become." Hawke denounced. As a Fereldan, he knew that no one had the right to strip the freedoms and independence of others for personal gain. "What you have done to this city isn't duty, it's cruelty! You're nothing more than a tyrant using religion and duty as an excuse. You have no right to strip these people of their freedoms!"

"What would you have me do!? Could you do better, Champion?" Meredith demanded emotionally. "How well did you protect your own mother? Was she not killed, mutilated by a mage's hand?"

In that moment, Hawke's diplomatic demeanor shattered like a mirror, and he just about lost his mind. The memory of his mother's death still haunted him; it a subject none dared to bring up so callously around him. The Templars around Meredith quietly took several steps back. "How dare you?! My mother died because _you_ were too busy brutalizing your own charges instead of investigating real threats. My mother's death, and all those women Quentin killed is on your hands, not the mages'!"

"I know." Meredith acknowledged almost sympathetically. "Dead bodies and failed citizens speak more loudly than abstract freedoms. Freedoms and weak willed bureaucrats that allowed men like Quentin to kill your mother. Don't you understand, Champion? As long as that's true, Kirkwall needs its Templars more than it needs a new ruler."

Hawke was unmoved by the Knight-Commander's attempts to convince him. If anything, her words only made him angrier and his sword hand itch. "You _dare_ to use my mother's death as a smokescreen to cover your bullshit? You dare to dishonor her memory like that to my face?! I should fucking _kill_ you!"

Meredith's Templars drew their swords and surrounded their leader. Hawke grabbed the Celebrant, ready to follow through with his threat.

"That is quite enough." A gentle voice called sternly. The entire crowd parted to make way for Grand Cleric Elthina, showing her all the respect that was owed to their beloved spiritual leader. Despite the fact that this argument looked as though it was about to turn into a battle, the elderly Grand Cleric strode calmly to the heated debate as though she were about scold a group of children fighting over a toy. "My, my, such a commotion!"

"This mage incites rebellion, Your Grace. I am dealing with this matter." Meredith informed staunchly.

"Are you now?" Elthina observed, not very impressed. "Orsino, I know you are frustrated. But do you honestly think this is truly wise?"

"I...no, Your Grace." Orisno admitted in defeat.

"You're finally listening, aren't you?" Hawke pointed out defensively.

"Yes, Champion, but this is no way to settle a dispute." Elthina responded calmly. "Young men, would you kindly escort the First Enchanter back to the Circle? Gently, if you please."

The Templars did as they were bade, but Meredith stood outraged.

"Your Grace! This mage incites rebellion, dares to question the Order's duty! He should be clapped in irons, made an example of!"

"That's enough, Meredith." Elthina bade. "This display of yours demeans us all, surely you can see that? Go back to the Gallows now and calm down, like a good girl."

Meredith's face twisted in frustration, but she bowed to the Grand Cleric's wishes and left.

Elthina turned to the Champion with deep concern in her eyes. "I understand what you were trying to do for Orsino, Champion, and Meredith had no right to use your mother's death against you, but do you honestly believe that such action would have solved anything?"

"Do _you_ honestly believe that sending them back to their rooms like misbehaved children will do anything?" Hawke countered lividly. "I'm a Fereldan, Your Grace. I favor action, not indolence. And I certainly won't stand for anyone using my mother's death for their own gain."

Elthina sighed sadly and turned to the crowd of people. "Good people of Kirkwall...return to your homes. I implore you. This problem will not be solved today."

The crowd departed, many of them talking amongst themselves about what was going to happen. Who was right? When will they be safe in their own city again? They left with their hearts heavy with worry.

"That's it? You're just going to send everyone home?" Hawke asked incredulously.

"What would you have me do, Champion?"

"Anything!" Hawke shouted. "This city is one bad day away from being a killingfield between those who are pro-Templar and those who are pro-Circle. You can't just keep claiming neutrality and hope everyone sees it your way."

"I pray you are wrong, Champion, I truly do." Elthina sighed wearilly. "There has been enough death in this city. Now, I must attend to the Gallows. The two of them will see reason, if the Maker wills it."

Hawke looked at the Grand Cleric with contempt in his eyes. Ever since Seamus Dumar was killed by Mother Petrice, Hawke had blamed Elthina for much of the city's problems. Meredith strips this city of it rights and freedoms, Orsino demands justice, and Elthina refused to aid either side. If the Maker wasn't going to stand in and save this city, then Hawke was going to do it for Him.

**~XoXoX~**

Varric woke up in his chair in Skyhold with a start, Bianca resting right next to him. Maker's breath, it had been years since he thought of that day, much less dreamed of it. The day when Hawke all but declared his support for the Mages. Times were tense then, but at least Varric had the Hanged Man. That fowl-smelling den of depravity was his safe haven in that crazy city. Here in Skyhold, Varric just claimed a seat by the fire. And the Tavern here had nothing on the Hanged Man. It was so clean it practically squeaked. It lacked character, and the smell of stale piss and vomit that came with it.

It had been a couple of weeks since the death of Corypheus, and many were still celebrating, even as though there was still so much work to be done. Tracking down what was left of the Venatori, cleaning up the red lyrium, rebuilding in Sahrnia. The list went on and on. But not for Varric. He did his share when he helped Inquisitor Lavellan solve the Orlesian Civil War, stop a demon invasion at Adamant Fortress, and then finally kill Corypheus. Now it was time for the handsomest dwarf and best writer in all of Skyhold to enjoy some relaxation. Maker knows he probably won't get that much when he returns to Kirkwall.

Varric sat in his usual spot by the fireplace with a tall mug of cold ale and propped his feet on the table with Bianca resting right next to him. It was a warm day in Skyhold, and since there was no world threatening catastrophes going on or ancient magical horrors running amok, he was looking forward to just enjoy a nice lazy-day all to himself.

The same couldn't be said about certain other people. Almost everyone was running around trying to get ready for Leliana's coronation as Divine. The very thought of a Divine who knew everyone's dirty secrets almost as well as the Maker kind of scared Varric. Cullen was making sure that Leliana had the proper honor guard prepared while Josephine was looking over all the catering details, the guest list and decorations. Eager to resume her role in the Divine's service, Cassandra was now following Leliana around like her shadow, much to the future Divine's dismay. And Leliana was just trying to find a moment to herself away from everyone's fawning and the annoying taylors who were trying to get her measurements.

"Everyone, please!" Leliana shouted desperately. "My coronation is still weeks ahead. I don't need people fussing over me until I am at least sitting on the Sunburst Throne. Please, let's all just sit down and relax."

"As you wish, Your Perfection." Josephine curtsied politely.

"Josie, please! I don't need you doing that yet." Leliana whined.

Cullen shooed the tailors away like they were a herd of swine stinking up the place. "Go on, now. You heard the Divine. Go circle like buzzards around someone else."

Josephine sat herself at the table where Varric was, and poured herself a drink from the pitcher of ale Varric had there. "Oh, Maker. I haven't slept a wink sense the Grand Cleric declared Leliana to be Divine. So much to do!"

"I know how you feel, Josie." Leliana sighed, sitting herself down. "It still doesn't seem real. Me, Divine? I never dreamed of such a thing."

"After everything that's happened, I don't think there's anyone else who deservers that title more than you." Cassandra assured. "You knew Divine Justinia even before she was Divine. I think you're probably the most prepared for this role than anyone in all of Thedas."

"Just think of all the precendents you're setting." Cullen added. "First you were a bard, then you were a companion of the man who stopped the Blight. Spymaster to the previous Divine and then the Inquisitor. I don't think there's any Divine in all of history with a more storied life."

"Please, don't, Cullen." Leliana urged. "I'm getting a headache just thinking about it."

"Varric what are you doing?" Cassandra inquired, though the answer should have been obvious.

"Seeker, I am very busy with a matter of the utmost importance. It called _'Rest and Relaxation'_. You should try it some time, or do you only do that when you and the Inquisitor lock the door to his room behind you?" Varric answered, resuming his drink while Cassandra fought the urge to blush.

"That's sounds like a wonderful thing to do right now. Would you mind telling us a story, Master Tethras?" Josephine asked on a whim.

"Yes, please." Leliana requested. "Something to take our minds off of everything else."

Varric slowly drank down his mug of ale then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Well, when you put it like that, how can I refuse a request from the future Divine? Now, what kind of story could I tell you to get your minds of your current situation?"

"Perhaps you could...tell us about one of your upcoming novels?" Cassandra suggested tentatively.

"Sorry, Seeker, but I told you already, I don't have the next issue of 'Swords and Shields' ready." Varric's reminder made Cassandra pout slightly. The dwarven rogue thought for a moment, and finally recalled the perfect tale. "Okay, I got one. A story I haven't told anyone. Even when Cassandra was giving me that scary look of hers back in Kirkwall."

"Really, Varric?" Cassandra scoffed. "You still withheld information from me? I cannot decide if you're the bravest dwarf I ever met or the stupidest. Is this another one of those tales you conveniently forgot? Like that one with Tallis?"

"It had nothing to do with your investigation, Seeker." Varric assured. "And besides...this was actually a story I did my damndest to forget."

Now that instantly grabbed everyone's attention. A tale not even Varric wanted to remember? Now they had to hear it.

"Hey, guys. What's going on?" Iron Bull asked, appearing out of nowhere.

"Shh!" Josephine hushed. "Master Tethras is about to tell a story."

"Oh, really? You knew Krem's been dying to hear one of your stories. Let me go get the boys."

"Sure thing, Tiny. While you're at it, why don't you guys get some more drinks? This is going to take a while." Said Varric.

Iron Bull shortly came back with all his Chargers, and they brought two barrels of ale with them. With such a huge gathering of people showing up in the Main Hall, others soon showed up. Rajmael was sitting next to Cassandra, the two of them now holding hands. Josephine sat with eager enthusiasm that was shared by Leliana. Sera, Blackwall, Dorian, and even Vivienne gathered around to hear this little tale. Varric was finally in his comfort zone. It wasn't the Hanged Man, but it would do. He was surrounded by a large gathering of people who were standing around to hear him jack his jaw with a mug of cold ale to keep his throat from getting dry. This might turn out to be a good day.

"To first understand this story, you're going to need to know where Hawke stood with the rest of us." Varric explained. "Some good, while others were not so good. Obviously, you all know where he stands with me, but aside from the Seeker here, none of you know that part of the story. So bare with me for a moment, and I'll tell you what Hawke's companions thought of him. Or maybe I should say, how _he_ thought of _us_."

**~Bethany~**

Hawke made his way to the Gallows, a trip he never liked or took lightly. In the past few years, his disdain for this wretched building from when the Imperium ruled this region only intensified, but he had a very important reason for being here, especially today. He held the parcel he was carrying very close to him, wanting to make sure that absolutely nothing happened to it. It was far too important.

For the past six years, his sister Bethany had called this cold prison home, instead being where she belonged, with him and the rest of the people who loved her. And with the actions Meredith had taken in the past few years, Hawke had become more and more worried about Bethany's safety than ever before. His worst fear is that one day he would show up here and discover that his sister had been made Tranquil, a thought that haunted him every day. But if that ever did happen, Hawke swore that someone was going to answer for it.

When Hawke entered the Gallows Courtyard, he was shocked and appalled by how few mages there actually was, and at how many had been made Tranquil. Hawke had heard from Anders, and many people within the city, how their children or siblings had been made Tranquil for the most minor of offenses. He had also been hearing about how the Templars had been barging into people's homes for suspecting them for harboring apostates, treating them like criminals for assisting their family member, like it was their right to do so. Something needed to be done, but that wasn't why Hawke was here today.

Some of the Templars saw the Champion and were eyeing him like he was a rabid dog or an obvious threat. After that display with Meredith in the Hightown Square, Hawke didn't blame them, or really care.

Hawke's feelings of hostility and disgust spiked when he was approached by the one Templar in all of Kirkwall he actually wanted to kill besides Meredith: Cullen.

"Champion." Cullen addressed politely if not apprehensively. "It would seem that you've become less of a friend to the Templars since your ascent. What can I do for you?"

"I was _never_ a friend of the Templars, least of all you, Cullen." Hawke deeply offended. "I'm here to see my sister."

Cullen sighed dismally. He knew the Champion resented him for taking his sister away, but his duty to the Order was clear. "Champion, the Knight-Commander has ordered that..."

"Is my sister imprisoned?" Hawke interrupted.

"No."

"Has she been found guilty of a crime?" Hawke asked.

"No, she has not." Cullen assured.

"Then there should be no issue. I am not here for you, Cullen, and I certainly don't give a damn about Meredith. But if you won't let me see my sister, you and I are going to have a problem you don't want to have."

"Very well, but I will need to see that package you're bringing before I can allow you any further." Cullen stated.

Hawke held his parcel close, refusing to give it up. "This is nothing your eyes are meant for, Cullen. Nor is it anything dangerous, enchanted or otherwise remarkable. It is something for Bethany, and Bethany alone."

"I realize the importance of that, but my orders stand." Cullen insisted fervently. "All packages being delivered to mages must pass a thorough inspection."

"Hang your orders for all I care." Hawke glared. "If I wanted to break my sister out of the Gallows, I guarantee that I would do it very openly and with lots of violence. I promise, that what I have here is nothing dangerous and more than perfectly safe. My word is the only thing you need.

Cullen sighed and decided to relent. Hawke was a man of considerable means in this city, and if he wanted to break his sister out of the Gallows, Cullen suspected he would have done it already. The Templars were already losing support, and they very well might lose all they had left if he refused to let the Champion see his sister.

For the past few years, the people have become less receptive of the Templars in this city. Even criticizing them as brutes and tyrants, despite the fact that these measures were made to keep them safe. There were so many Maleficars running rampant in this city, Meredith was doing what was necessary. Why couldn't they understand that? He would have thought that the Champion of all people would understand the Order's duties after what happened to his mother, but after what he saw almost happen when the Knight-Commander mentioned that, Cullen dared not bring it up.

"Very well, Champion. Come with me." Cullen relented. Being an older brother himself, he couldn't deny this man wanting to see his younger sister.

**~XoXoXo~**

The younger Hawke child was sitting at her desk in her private quarters. Things had gotten pretty bad for the mages since the Qunari invaded. So many of her peers had been turned Tranquil, and for the most minor offenses. The Templar who took her from her family, Cullen, at first, seemed like a decent man, but what kind of decent man could stand by and let someone like Meredith do the things she did?

Things had been so bad lately it almost made Bethany cry just thinking about it. She used to think she was cursed for having magic, but now she couldn't help but think her whole life was a curse. First her father, the man she thought knew everything, and was the best mage she ever knew, died of a wasting disease. Then her twin brother Carver was killed because he was stupid enough to attack an ogre by himself. Then she had to learn from her uncle Gamlen that her mother had been murdered. She had to request special permission to attend her funeral, and even then she had to have Templars escort her. It was like they didn't even care that her mother died, they just wanted to make sure a mage wasn't too far out of their sight.

When she was first taken to the Circle, she thought she'd hate it at first, given how terrible the rumors were about the Templars. But to her surprise, she actually enjoyed life amongst her fellow mages. She especially loved teaching the children basic spells the way her father taught her. However, now the mages were all but forbidden from practicing their magic, and instead if teaching the children how to control their magic, they were mostly treated like prisoners and not allowed to learn any magic at all, like they were the biggest threats of all. Maker, why did her life have to be so complicated?

There was a light knocking at her door. Bethany was somewhat confused by who could be knocking. If it was a Templar knocking, it would sound more like a pounding meant to announce their entry into her room. Or they would simply barge in without such courtesy. Someone was knocking as though they were requesting permission to enter, which was unusual in the Gallows.

"Come in." Bethany called. Her eyes lit up with surprise and joy to see her big brother walk through her doorway with that smile of his on his face. "Garret!"

Hawke hugged sister closely, overjoyed to see his sister unharmed. "Hello, Bethany. I'm sorry I haven't seen you in so long."

"It's alright, Brother. I know you've been busy, being the Champion and all." Bethany replied, returning her brother's affection.

Hawke's feelings of familial warmth were interrupted when he realized that Cullen was watching them from the doorway.

"You can leave us, now, Cullen. My sister and I have some catching up to do, and family business is best done in private." Hawke spoke with his eyes piercing at the Templar.

"As you wish, but I will remain on the other side of the door until you're finished." Cullen stated. He closed the door and left the two siblings alone.

When Hawke was satisfied that Cullen's nearby presence wasn't going to be a problem, he sat down on a chair across from Bethany who sat on her bed. It had been far too long since they had been together. Not since the Qunari invasion, and Hawke didn't fancy having another reunion with Bethany being on a battlefield.

"Bethany, tell me honestly, how are things here in the Gallows right now?" Hawke asked seriously.

Bethany wanted to say that everything was fine, that she was still happy living amongst other mages, but she was never able to fool her older brother, even when they were children. "I won't lie, Garret, it's been...very difficult. The curfews, the inspections, and the Templars' treatment, it's getting worse. Some people, even some of the Templars are whispering the Meredith is going mad. Orsino does what he can, but it doesn't seem to be enough, and I think the strain of it is getting to him. He seems so tired all the time, and sometimes I see him staring off like he's in an angry trance, like he's going to snap."

"Are the Templars really going that far?"

"I'm sure you saw just how far they've gone when you entered the courtyard." Bethany reminded. "There have never been so many Tranquil in a single Circle before. It's supposed to be a last resort, but it's the first thing Meredith does when she thinks any mage is a threat by breaking whatever rule she's imposed."

"And what about you, Bethany? Have there...been any threats against you?" Hawke asked with worry in his voice.

"I always feel the Templars' eyes on me, constantly watching me, or maybe even come up with an excuse to brand me, but no, there's been no moves made against me." Bethany answered. "All things considered, I have been on of the lucky ones. The Templars seem to avoid showing me the same harshness they show others. I think it's because they are more afraid of you, and the Knight-Commander doesn't want anyone to use the brand on me unless she wants to make an enemy out of you."

Hawke took Bethany's hand in his, his face deathly serious. "Bethany, listen very carefully. If you want, I can get you out of here. Anders and I have discussed it, and we may have a way to get you out of the Gallows. I already failed to keep you out of here, but maybe I can get you out. You don't deserve to live like this."

Bethany was shocked at what her brother was saying. It was no surprise that Anders had a way of getting her out, but was Garret really willing to risk so much for her? She held her brother's hand tightly in hers, already knowing her answer. "Garret, you're my brother and I miss you everyday, but no. I cannot. No deserves to live like this, but how can I simply just run away when so many other mages are suffering. You cannot simply run from your problems when things get difficult. You taught me that."

"And Father was the one who taught me." Hawke smiled proudly at his sister. "I promise, Bethany, I'll find a way to solve this."

"I know you will. You're my brother as well as the Champion." Bethany smiled back. "Growing up, I always thought you could do anything, and I still believe that now."

"I try, what Hawke could do any less? There's on more thing I need to give you." Hawke grabbed the package he brought with him and handed it to Bethany. "I was about to fight Cullen over this, but he decided to let it slide."

"You mean you weren't here just to ask me if I wanted to leave?" Bethany asked curiously.

"It was _a_ reason, but not_ the_ reason. Go on, open it." Hawke urged.

Bethany carefully opened the package. Her heart almost burst with such joy it brought tears to her eyes. She had never in her life wept tears of joy like she did now. Inside the box was a small cake that had been carefully and beautifully designed, like something a noble would eat. On the cake written in frosting was an inscription.

_Happy 24th Birthday_

_Bethany &amp; Carver_

"You remembered." Bethany hugged her brother close to her. There was so much dread going on that Bethany had forgotten her own birthday, but her big brother didn't. Her birthdays never felt as happy as they once did ever since Carver died, but Garret brought that joy back to her. She wept into his chest like she used to when they were children and she'd scrape her knee. He would always carry her and make sure she was alright.

"It's not a day I could ever forget." Emotion rained over Hawke like a storm as he held his sister close to him. He never liked crying in front of his sister, but she was the only one of few people who could ever see him cry. "Now make a wish, for you and for Carver."

Bethany sniffed back her tears and magically lit the candles on her cake. She made on wish for her, and one for Carver. She held the wish close to her heart in the hopes that it would come true.

"Happy birthday, Bethany." Hawke held out a very small box, one he kept hidden from Cullen.

"Oh, Garret, you didn't need to do this." Said Bethany.

"You really think I was just going to smuggle a cake to you, Bethany? No, the sister of a Champion deserves better than that." Hawke chuckled.

Bethany opened the box, and it took everything she had not to cry again. She couldn't believe he was giving this to her. "This...this is mother's locket. I never thought I would see this again."

Bethany unlocked her mother's precious belonging and saw the pictures that were housed inside. One was their mother and father's wedding picture, the other was of all them standing together as a family, back when they were children.

"Oh, Garret, this perfect. Thank you." Bethany wanted with all her heart to wear the locket proudly, but knew the Templars might confiscate it, so she placed it in one of the pockets of her robe to keep it safe.

Hawke hugged his sister once more, doing his best not to let his emotions get the better of him. "You're all the family I have left, Bethany. I promise, I won't let anything happen to you. I'll figure a way to stop this madness."

"I know you will." Bethany sniffed. "Mother, Father, Carver, I know they'd all be so proud of you. I've always been. Thank you for looking after me."

**~XoXoXo~**

Hawke exited his sister's quarters and found Cullen standing not that far away. If he heard Hawke's moment with his sister, he didn't show it. The emotion Hawke previously had on his face was there no longer, and he greeted the Templars with the same grim indifference he had when entered the Gallows.

"Are you finished with your business with your sister, Champion?" Cullen asked politely.

"Yes." Hawke answered. "But my now it's time to start my business with you."

"Excuse me?" Cullen asked, not taking well to the Champion's threatening tone.

"No, I don't think I ever will excuse you." Hawke retorted. "You're the one who took my sister from my family, so I suggest you listen very carefully: Bethany is all the family I have left in this world, and I will not lose her to anything. So if anything does happen to her in this miserable den of slaves and bigotry, I don't care whose fault it is, I am coming after you, Cullen."

Cullen tried to remain calm, but his own hostility was starting rise. As a Templar, he did not take kindly to threats made in the Circle he guarded. "Champion, I understand you're angry, but..."

"No, you don't understand. A bigoted, racist, prejudiced zealot like you is incapable of understanding." Hawke spoke hatefully. "But if you know what's good for you, you will understand me right now. I don't care about you, or your damned Order and its dictums, I only care about my sister. And if anything ever happens to her, I am coming for you."

"I do not take kindly to threats, Champion." Cullen said defiantly. "And I do not answer to you."

"If anything happens to Bethany, you will answer to me." Hawke promised. "And if you think I am incapable of keeping my promise, just ask the Arishok."

Cullen watched as the Champion made his way out of the Gallows, and made no attempt to escort or follow him. In a mood like this, he knew Hawke was liable to attack him, and the Order didn't need an enemy like the Champion right now. It had been years since he had seen a look as deathly fearsome as that. Not since Aedan Cousland cut down every abomination, demon and bloodmage in the Circle Tower back in Ferelden during the Blight. If Hawke was capable of matching the Hero of Ferelden's ferocity, then the Templars may have a worse enemy than the Knight-Commander realizes.

**~XoXoXo~**

Varric took a quick swig from his mug, trying not to show any emotion. Every time he thought about that story, it always tugged his heartstrings. It made him wish he had a better relationship with his older brother. Everyone else on the other, was showing emotions from that telling.

"Chief, are you crying?" Krem asked.

"No, I am not." The Iron Bull denied, even as he was wiping the tear from his only eye. "Something just got in my good eyes is all."

"Yeah, you say that every time you're about to cry, Chief." Krem chuckled.

"I didn't realize the Champion's family had been through so much." Josephine sniffed and wiped the tears from her eyes with her handkerchief. "I don't think I could stand to see my little sister imprisoned."

Cassandra seemed especially stunned. "I...during my entire investigation into the Champion, I never once considered to take into account everything his family had been through, everything he had suffered."

"Nor I." Leliana said sorrowfully. "When I went to Kirkwall on Justinia's orders, all I did was go there to see if mages were rebelling. We didn't take the time to figure out what the true root of the problem was, we just wanted it gone, and didn't care about those we were supposed to protect. Hawke had every right to be angry with the Chantry."

"I had a younger sister once." Blackwall spoke out. "She...died of a fever when we were still young. I never got a chance to fight for her, but that was all the Champion wanted to do for his. What could be better reason than that?"

"It's amazing what some siblings would do for one another." Rajmael said, recalling his own relationship with his adopted brother. Even today, he still wished it had ended happily.

"Such as conspiring with an abomination to smuggle a mage out of the Circle?" Vivienne said haughtily. "The situation in Kirkwall's Circle was a travesty, and the Templars made a gross abuse against their charges, but doing such a thing could have all but broken the Champion. Even the nobles or Orlais need special permission when having a family member leave the Circle because of their rank."

"Madame Vivienne, do shut up, please." Cullen said scornfully.

That heated remark from Cullen caught everyone's attention. Normally, the Commander was so calm and pragmatic, not one for sudden outbursts of emotion or anger, as far as they knew.

"You were not there in Kirkwall. I don't blame anyone who wanted to keep their loved ones safe from a madwoman like Meredith." Cullen finished lividly.

"So willing to defend the man who all but threatened to kill you, Commander? I'm impressed." Dorian said honestly.

"I have three siblings. I would have done anything to protect them from harm." Cullen informed morosely. "But I went and broke up Hawke's family, and didn't think twice about it. If I were Hawke, I would have hated my guts to.

"It's funny, really." Cassandra spoke out. "I had the same relationship with my older brother, Antony. He was the one who always took care of me, tried to make sure I was happy. I didn't think he and Hawke would have so much in common."

"Most people think that Hawke was all about slaying monsters and bad guys, or rescuing damsels in distress while making off with chests full of gold. But what most people don't know is, at the heart of it all, Hawke was just a family man." Varric said truthfully. "Everything he did, no matter what, it was for the chance of making their lives better. And that's the truth. Fame, fortune, glory, all that was meaningless to him. All that mattered to Hawke was looing after those he loved, and just doing the right thing. And, come one, let's be honest, how many heroes out there are like that? But enough of that. Let's move on before I start crying."

**~Merrill~**

The wayward Dalish elf sat by herself in Hawke's huge mansion, reading a book in his study. Hawke's faithful mabari war hound, Hafter, sniffed her hand and eagerly rolled on his back, begging for attention. Merrill laughed and rubbed the big dog's belly just the way he liked.

It was considered a huge scandal when it was discovered that Garret Hawke, scion and heir of the Amell Family, had brought an elf to live with him. Not as his servant, as they might expect, but as his lover. Not only was she an elf, but a Dalish elf to boot. It caused such a scandal that even after they had been together for three years, people were still talking about it like it happened yesterday.

Some of them still gave her those mean looks, like she didn't belong there, belong with Hawke, and at times she felt that might be true. After all, she still couldn't find her way around the city, barely understood city life, and was more out of place amongst the city elves than a human would be. Not to mention the fact that not even her own clan wanted to keep her. But whenever she began to feel such things, Hawke's smile and reassuring voice always lifted her spirits.

Earlier Merrill had gotten done with watering the plants around the mansion; the place seemed so dreary when Hawke wasn't around, she thought it would make the place seem livelier. In fact, everyone in the whole city seemed to be rather upset and sad, maybe she and some of the Alienage elves could plant some flowers around the city to help liven up everyone's spirits. But then, where would they find enough seeds? And most of the city was rock and stone, how could the plants grow any roots? Maybe planting flowers all over the city wasn't such a good idea after all.

Lately, Merrill had become more worried about Hawke. So worried in fact, that she could barely keep her mind focused on studying the eluvian. He seemed so distracted, and he'd even began acting more and more withdrawn. Avoiding her, not letting her know what he had been up to, he didn't even seem to want to talk to her. He seemed especially secretive about the mail. Normally, he didn't care if she or Isabela looked through his unopened mail, but lately he seemed very keen on keeping her away from it. He even instructed Bodahn to make sure she didn't look at any of his letters.

Merrill tried to tell herself that Hawke was acting this way because of all the stress he was feeling right now, and it is rather rude to go through someone else's letters, despite what Varric and Isabela might say. Ever since he had been made Champion, everyone wanted something from him. All Hawke wanted was to be left alone so that he could enjoy the life he made for himself, but he couldn't help but try to make things better for everyone. That's what Merrill loved about Garret the most: his undying selflessness. Hawke would throw himself at whatever problem, no matter how dangerous or controversial, if only to make another person's life better in this harsh city.

In fact, that was how she fell in love with him. Growing up, she had never even seen humans and had no idea what they were like, except for the stories the older members of the clan told that portrayed them as boogeymen and monsters. But when she first met Hawke at Sundermount, her heart fluttered in her chest at the sight of him because he was so handsome and had such a warm smile on his face. When their task was done, Merrill though that, at best, Hawke would just drop her off in the city and forget her, or, at worst, turn her over to the Templars. She was a bloodmage after all, and even her own clan didn't want her any more. But Hawke didn't forget or discard her. Instead, he visited her in the Alienage, spoke to her, tried to help her adjust to living in the city away from her clan. He never judged her, and in trying to become her friend, Merrill fell hopelessly in love with Hawke.

She didn't care about the breakings of taboo or the racial and religious differences between them. Hawke was different from all the humans her clanmates spoke of. He was kind, honorable and noble, and believed in equality for all people, regardless of their race and religion. She loved him for all that, not the race he happened to be. And that first night that shared together, when she awkwardly admitted her feelings to him, was the happiest night of her life. She could have died happily right then, but living with him was an even greater joy.

And having Isabela as a best friend really helped, too. She was able to show her all the fun, naughty things she never would have learned in her clan, and Hawke enjoyed her lessons just as much.

Merrill just wished there was something she could do to help ease the burden Hawke felt by being Champion of Kirkwall. After everything he had done and been through, he deserved to have some peace of his own. Sadly, Merrill didn't know how to help without making an awkward mess of it that Varric would use in his stories.

Merrill stood up from her book and started pacing around the study, nervously biting on her fingernails. She did have one idea; a gift that she had been waiting for a special occasion. Isabela helped her pick it out, but she still couldn't help but be nervous. Would Hawke like it, or would it be too inappropriate? Humans were so hard to get gifts for, especially when the gift was meant to show how someone feels for them. Merrill learned that from when Aveline tried courting Donnic.

Merrill was so lost in nervous thought, that she didn't notice the object of her thoughts walking up behind her. Merrill could never get tired of that warm feeling she felt when Hawke's strong arms wrapped around her. Like a shield and a blanket rolled into one that made her feel safe, and warm, and nothing could hurt her. A shield-blanket, did anyone actually make those? Seems like something the dwarves might make.

"Aneth'ara, vhenan." Hawke whispered into Merrill's ear. He knew she loved it when he whispered affection into her ear in her exotic language. He always found elven to be a romantic language, and Merrill was a good teacher.

"Atish'all, ma vhenan." Merrill greeted, her ears blushing. Even after all these years, the very sound of his voice still excited her.

"Merrill, there's something very important I've been meaning to bring to your attention lately." Hawke said rather seriously. "It will probably be best to discuss it in our room."

Hawke took Merrill by the hand and led her to the bedroom. Why was he suddenly so serious? What could this be about, Merrill wondered. Mythal'enaste, could it be that he was going to break up with her?! Varric and Isabela once told her that when men wanted to leave a woman, it almost always started with them having an "important talk". Sweet Sylaise, Merrill didn't think she could handle such a thing. She had already been discarded by her clan and Keeper Marethari, she didn't want to lose the only man she has ever loved.

Fear and dread gripped Merrill's hear. Facing an ogre right now would be more appealing. When they entered the room, Merrill noticed Oriana carrying what appeared to be luggage bags into the room. At the moment, Merrill felt her heart shrivel and die inside her. She frantically turned to Hawke with pained tears running from her eyes.

"Hawke, please, I'm so sorry for always being an embarrassment and making a fool of myself." Merrill wept hysterically. "I know that having me around must be a terrible chore, and I say the most nonsensical things, but I promise I can do better. Please, don't leave me."

Merrill clutched to Hawke's chest and cried bitterly, but Hawke was stunned with confusion, and feeling slightly like a jerk for making Merrill cry.

"Merrill, please, don't cry. What are you saying?" Hawke asked earnestly.

"You're breaking up with me, aren't you?" Merrill sniffed sadly.

Hawke sighed, and tried very hard not to laugh at the irony of the situation. "Merrill, you couldn't be more wrong right now. I'm not breaking up with you, nor would I ever be insane enough to ever willingly make such a decision. Quite the opposite, in fact." Hawke wiped the tears from Merrill's green eyes. He held her close and tried to comfort her into calming down. "Merrill, you and I have been together now for seven years, and today marks the seventh anniversary of when I first met you at Sundermount. I wanted to celebrate by giving you a gift."

"You...sniff...you remembered the date when we first met?" Merrill sniffled.

"Well, meeting Flemeth for a second time, and the love of my life both in one day is hardly a day I could forget." Hawke chuckled. "I wanted to get you the perfect present, so I kept it a secret."

"Is that why you haven't been talking to me lately?" Merrill asked hopefully.

"Yes, and I am sorry." Hawke spoke sincerely. "I wanted to be a surprise, but I didn't know I was worrying you. I hope this present makes up for it."

Hawke opened the boxes Oriana had brought in and laid their contents out on the bed. Merrill's breath was stolen away at the sight of a set of a beautifully crafted, white, elven-styled armor. In all her years with the clan, she had never seen such something so fine. Detailed designs of halla and birds were etched into the inlays of the chest and on the shoulders. Merrill traced her fingers along the armor's breast and sleeves and realized that it wasn't merely styled to look elven, it truly was of elven make. The breastplate and pauldrons were made of pure sylvanwood, and the sleeves and pants, which looked like ringmail, was carefully woven dragon leather. It was sturdy as steel but light as cotton, and as beautiful as a piece of art. Only Dalish craftsmen had the knowledge and careful skill to make armor of this quality.

Merrill's eyes marveled at the gift the way other people would marvel gold. "You...you got this for me?"

"Do you like it?"

"I love it!" Merrill cried happily. "Hawke, this quality, this design! How did you manage to find it?"

"I didn't find it, I _commissioned_ it." Hawke answered with a smile. "I requested it from the Dalish craftsmen from the clans who have settled in Ostagar, back in Ferelden. I've been sending them letters on how I wanted it to be done."

"So that's why you didn't want me to look at your letters." Merrill realized.

"I didn't want you to spoil the surprise." Hawke smiled. "How could you think I was breaking up with you?"

Merill blushed with embarrassment, feeling like a total idiot. How could she think Hawke would ever break up with her? "Well...I told I say the most nonsensical things."

Hawk couldn't help but laugh at how cute Merrill looked with her pointy ears drooping, her cheeks blushing and giving that puppy-look with those beautiful eyes of hers. "Sweet Maker, you're adorable, Merrill. But please, just promise me one thing."

"What?" Merrill asked earnestly.

"Promise me you'll never change." Hawke begged.

Merrill's blush disappeared and a beaming smile spread across her face. She hugged herself close to Hawke, wrapping her arms around his neck, and brought his face close to hers. "I promise, ma vhenan."

Merrill brought Hawke into a deep kiss. Not wanting to interrupt them, Oriana quickly left the room. As much as Merrill wanted to try on her new set of armor, she was more interested in getting naked right now. She felt a little terrible about not getting Hawke a gift. She would have to talk to Isabela later about helping her make it up to him.

**~XoXoXo~**

"Is this whole story going to be about the Champion's tawdry personal life?" Vivienna asked distastefully.

"Oh, I certainly hope so." Dorian spoke. "Hearing the in depth personal details of lives of powerful people is one of my favorite pastimes."

"There were many people in Kirkwall's upper crust, even amongst the Templars and Chantry members, who thought that Hawke's relationship with a lustful Rivaini pirate and a heathen Dalish elf was disgraceful, that he was shaming the Amell family name." Cullen recalled. "Personally, I think they were all just jealous that the Champion never even looked their way."

"Love is a precious gift, no matter your race or religion. If more people realized this and placed less importance on such trivialities, I think the world would be better for it." Said Leliana. Perhaps, as Divine, she could make the world see this.

"I think Merrill is adorable. Like an affectionate puppy or kitten." Josephine said adoringly.

"Hm. It seems Dalish elves romancing human champions is more common place than anyone realizes." Blackwall observed.

The similarities between their romance and Hawke's and Merrill's had not gone unnoticed by Cassandra and Rajmael, who were currently holding hands. The instant she heard Blackwall's observation, however, Cassandra started blushing and immedietly withdrew her hand from Rajmael's.

"Man! The Champion sounds like he's got some serious game." Iron Bull laughed.

"That's an understatement, Tiny." Varric chuckled. "Hawke's had more than every pastry shop in the Orlesian Empire."

"But there were always those two who mattered the most to him. The two who knew him the most, understood him the best." Cole spoke. "Two loves for one heart, he knew how lucky he truly was, and treasured them."

"Exactly, Kid." Varric confirmed. "If there's was ever a sign that a higher power existed, that was it. Maker knows, no man in all of history has had Hawke's luck when it comes to their love life."

"And? Is there more or are you just going to leave us in suspense?" Rajmael asked.

"Building up suspense is the best way to tell a story, Inquisitor. And, trust me, that was just the first." Varric promised.

**~Isabela~**

The Rivaini raider was sitting by herself in the favorite spot for Lowtown's local scum, reprobates, and degenerates to gather: the Hanged Man. It had been several years since she had last been in Kirkwall's most renowned dive, not since before she betrayed the one man in this whole damned world who gave a damn about her, Garret Hawke.

Isabela slammed her shot glass back to the bar and ordered another drink, the whole bottle this time. She needed as much alcohol as she could get to make her able to handle even thinking about him right now.

She could barely stand to look herself in the mirror anymore. All she could see now was the backstabbing, lying bitch that she was. No different than her own hag of a mother. Even though Hawke owed her absolutely nothing, he allowed her to take the Tome of Koslun to get Castillon off her back, even though he could have used it to settle the issue with the Qunari. Then she abandoned him. Took off with the damned book with nothing but a pitiful note written with excuses.

Isabela stole a horse and took off for the nearest port city to jump ship and put as much distance between her and those Qunari as possible. By the time she was halfway to Ostwick, she looked back and saw the fire and smoke that was engulfing Kirkwall. Then that damned horrible feeling of guilt, the one thing she was always so good at ignoring, smacked her in the face. She brought that on Kirkwall, and now Hawke was trying to clean up the mess she made. After everything Hawke did for her, after everything she shared with him, Isabella had to go back.

By the time she arrived, the Qunari had destroyed half the city and the Arishok had killed the Viscount, but she got there, tome in hand, and gave them all the reason they needed to leave. Of course, it was never that easy. The Arishok took the damned book, but he wanted to take Isabela too, to make her pay for taking the book in the first place. Isabela thought for sure that would be the end of her, but even after everything she let happen, Hawke stood between her and that massive oxman. She could never forget those words Hawke when he defied the Arishok. "No. You can't have her. She's mine." Just remembering him say that still made her heart flutter.

Hawke dueled the Arishok for her, even after what she did, what she allowed to happen. Hawke became the Champion of Kirkwall, and she...she was still just a lying, thieving pirate slut. After that, she just started wandering around, trying to find something else in her life that would make her feel good about herself, besides a ship or Hawke, but with no success. Even now, she couldn't bring herself to go and see Hawke, even though she missed him so much. He was better off without someone like her giving him a bad name. Hawke still had Merrill, and the two of them were perfect for each other, he'd be just fine. But if that was true, why did she still feel like complete shit? She needed another bottle of whiskey.

"Mind if I buy you a drink, pretty lady?" Asked a very familiar strong yet soft voice.

Hawke sat himself on the stool right next to her with that welcoming smile of his. He was wearing common clothes so as to not attract too much attention to himself. Isabela tried to ignore the fact that he had grown his beard out and tingly it made her feel.

"I'm perfectly capable of paying for my own drinks, Hawke." Isabela dismissed rudely. "Don't you have a city that needs you to watch over it?" Isabela got up and walked away, hoping Hawke would leave her alone. She still couldn't bring herself to face him.

Hawke walked after her; he was going to let Isabela walk away again. "Isabela, please. You've been avoiding me for three years now, and I've had to rely on Varric's informants to tell me if you're alright. Don't just walk out on me again."

Isabela stopped in her tracks. Hawke didn't deserve to be treated like this, but she felt she did, and he needed to realize that. "Why, Hawke? You'd be better off without me."

Hawke gently brought Isabela to face him, his eyes still soft and caring. "You know that's not true, Isabela. If hadn't come back when you did, I wouldn't have been able to save Kirkwall."

"Bullshit." Isabela denied. "You never needed me for that. You, and the one-woman heavy infantry that is Aveline, could have slaughtered all those Qunari without me. You never would have had to if I never even showed up to this city in the first place. All I've done is bring you trouble."

Hawke wasn't buying what Isabela was selling. "Don't try to serve me this kind of crap, Isabela. I know you too well. You're too strong and self-confident to ever think that about yourself."

Isabela steeled herself and looked at Hawke bitterly. "The fact is this: you're a bloody hero, a Champion. Me? I'm just a lying, thieving, pirate slut. Don't you think your life would be better off without me to mess it up?"

Hawke gently took Isabela's hands in to hers. She had almost forgotten how strong and skilled those hands of his were. He refused to give up on her.

"You came back to help me, even though you had the relic and could have kept running. I forgave you a long time ago." Hawke spoke with such strength and warmth in his voice. "No matter what you may think of yourself, I still care about you, Merrill still cares about you. And even though she'd never admit it, I know even Aveline cares. You're one of the strongest, most confident women I have ever met, and having you around is worth some trouble. And as for being a pirate slut, well, it's a part of your charm, and I miss having you around."

Isabela could scarecely believe her own damned ears. She never thought she'd meet a man who could so willingly accept all her faults, or have such a profound effect on her. Now she felt like a total idiot. All these years she'd spent feeling sorry for herself, and he was still wanted her in his life. There wasn't a woman alive who could possibly refuse him.

The pirate queen hugged Hawke close to her, and allowed herself to enjoy the warmth and strength of his body. Oh, how she had missed being in his arms. "Why are you so good to me, Hawke?"

Hawke held her even closer and whispered in her ear. "Because your my girl."

"Hmm. I do like the sound of that." Isabela gave him that foxy wink of hers. "Well, let's order some drinks. I think a small celebration is order for my coming back to Kirkwall."

A sly grin spread across Hawke's face as another idea came to mind. "Actually, why don't we head back to the manor? Merrill has been dying to see you again, and I think you'd love to see how much she has missed you."

Isabela took the hint and her eyes flashed with desire, licking her lips like a starved convict. "Ooh, how I have missed being in Kirkwall."

**~XoXoXo~**

"Am I the only one who finds it unfair the Hawke is juggling a relationship between two different women?" Cassandra asked disapprovingly.

"Oh, I agree, it's totally unfair." Iron Bull answered, surprising everyone. "He could at least leave some ladies for the rest of us!"

"And that Captain Isabela seemed like a grand ol' time. Woof." Sera commented.

"Come now, dear Cassandra, surely it's not such a surprise." Vivienne assured. "There are many within the courts of every kingdom who have a paramour, some have more than one, men and women. For a man of the Champion's rank to have more than one woman is certainly nothing scandalous."

"Being the Champion certainly gives one...privileges that most people can never even imagine." said Blackwall. Being a former Champion of the Grand Melee, he knew that from personal experience.

"I've met ambassadors and dignitaries from Rivain, and I must say they are certainly...open-minded and liberal when it comes to certain aspects of life that most of us would find scandalous or unheard of." Josephine informed. "I don't think Captain Isabela's relationship with the Champion could be considered inappropriate by her culture's standing."

"You all consider _that_ inappropriate?" Leliana almost laughed. "During my time as a bard, I witnessed so many acts of depravity and excess that to even mention the names of those involved would be ashamed for the rest of their lives. Trust me, Hawke's relationships are nothing so indecent, as far as I am concerned."

"Hawke had enough room in his heart for all the women in his life. His mother, his sister, and definitely Rivaini and Daisy." Varric clarified. "I mean, I won't lie, always was a sucker for a pretty face. That's how that whole fiasco with Tallis started. But he loved Daisy and Rivaini differently, and at the same time, equally. He was lucky to have found two women who could share that kind of affection for him as well as each other. That alone made him the luckiest son of a bitch in Thedas, never mind finding lost treasure in the Deep Roads, defeating the Arishok, and being crowned Champion." Varric couldn't keep himself from laughing. "Let me tell you, I could have made a fortune selling books about Hawke's more illicit exploits if he and Aveline both didn't threaten to burn my chest hair off. So, while I would love to thrill you all with more of Hawke's scandalous personal life, let's move on..."

**~Aveline~**

The Guard-Captain stood before the tall mirror and looked at herself with a slight twinge of discomfort. She wasn't used to seeing herself this way, even though some would think she'd be used to it by now. Not being an officer or a soldier, but becoming a wife. It wasn't something she'd thought she'd be twice in a single life time. After Wesley's death during the Blight, Aveline's heart was crushed, and she wasn't alone. Many families lost so many loved ones during that horrible time. When she killed Wesley to save him from the Taint, she thought she would never deserve to be happy again.

But, as the old saying goes, life moves on, and Aveline eventually found herself ready to move on. Her heart had time to heal and soon found that yearning desire for love once again, and she found that in Donnic. He wasn't the best looking man in the Guard, but there was always something about him that made her want to be close to him. Maybe it was how dedicated he was to being a guardsman, or maybe it was simply how he would sometimes look at her when he thought she wasn't looking and made her heart race.

As much as her heart desired the love another, she just didn't know how to be anything other than a guard and had no idea how to get Donnic to notice her. Maker knows she made a complete ass of herself trying. What was she thinking with that copper release of marigolds? Thankfully, she had Hawke to smooth the process and save her from making an ass out of herself, and missing what turned out to be a beautiful thing. If Hawke hadn't done her that favor, and spoken up, she might still be single with nothing to look forward to in the morning. And now, here she was, a second wedding to the man she loved. She must have truly been blessed to have someone to love her after so much tragedy.

It felt strange, being out of her armor and in a wedding dress once again. She had a hard time finding the right one. Isabela kept insisting on a lacey see-through gown that showed off far too much skin and cleavage than was necessary. Turned out it wasn't a dress at all, just something Isabela picked up at the Blooming Rose. The whore. Thankfully, Aveline was able to get in touch with Lady Elegant who helped her find a beautiful gown that was modest yet it showed off her feminine side beautifully. Sandal even put one of his signature enchantments on the dress that gave it a glittering appearance.

There was a knock on her dressing room door.

"Come in." Aveline invited.

Hawke walked into the room wearing a handsome piece of Fereldan styled finery. There was a look of happy pride in his smile and eyes when he saw Aveline in her dress.

"Everything is ready. They're just waiting on the bride. You ready, Aveline." Hawke asked smiling.

"Truth be told, I don't think I've been more nervous." Aveline admitted bashfully.

"There's nothing to be nervous about." Hawke assured in that confident way of his. "It's just a lifetime of happiness waiting for you out there, and a gathering of all your closest friends and associates here to celebrate your big day."

"You always did know what to say to boost my confidence, Garret." Aveline chuckled. She hardly ever used Hawke's first name, but that was how much she meant it. "Well, how do I look?"

"If I said anything other than lovely, would you pummel me?" Hawke asked sarcastically.

"The chances are good."

"Well, then in that case, you look lovely." Hawke offered his arm to her eagerly. "Well, let's go. Your future is waiting for you."

Aveline took Hawke's arm and donned her bride's veil, then the two of them made their way out. Aveline's father, Benoit du Lac, died many years ago and never got the chance to give her away at her first wedding. When they were escaping the Blight, the Hawke family practically took Aveline in and became a family to her, so it was only natural for Aveline to ask Hawke to give her away to her new husband. How many women would kill to have Hawke around their arms right now, Aveline wondered.

Everyone in the Chantry rose to their feet at the sound of that pipe organ announcing the bride's arrival, and marveled at the sight of the Guard-Captain and the Champion walked down the aisle. All their friends had come to join Aveline on her wedding day, even Bethany had been given special dispensation to attend. Merrill, Bethany and Isabela were acting as the bridesmaids, each of them holding a matching bouquet. Isabela's dress was still showing off so much cleavage that it should have been illegal, but that's best Aveline could hope for. Merrill and Bethany were weeping tears of happiness for Aveline.

Varric and Anders both raised a glass to the bride as she walked by them. Aveline was surprised at how well the dwarven rogue and rebellious Apostate cleaned up, but even they knew that this was occasion worth dressing up for. Also shocking was the sight of Fenris actually smiling for once, instead of having that brooding scowl on her face. Even he could be happy for someone once in a while. Sebastian stood over by the podium not far from Grand Cleric Elthina, who was officiating the ceremony.

Hawke let go of Aveline, and as she walked up those steps, her heart nearly stopped inside her chest at the sight of Donnic waiting for her. She felt tears of joy welling up in her eyes. She never thought she would feel this way again. To be loved and find something, someone, who could make her life feel whole again, make her feel like her life had meaning. The future was still uncertain, but this would be her future. Not just as Guard-Captain, but as a wife, and with someone to love and cherish, till death do they part.

In her heart, Aveline knew that this happy day of hers would not have been possible if it weren't for Hawke. She would always be grateful to be his friend.

**~XoXoXo~**

Cassandra, Josephine, Leliana and even Krem all sighed dreamily when Varric finished his little memory of Aveline.

"That was such a lovely story." Josephine sighed.

"Even in such uncertain times, people deserve to be happy." Leliana commented.

"Maker's breath, I owe Rivaini fifty silvers now. There's actually a man in Thedas who's not intimidated by Aveline, but is actually turned on by her." Cole mimicked Varric's voice and memory almost perfectly. "I'm sure glad Aveline never found out about that bet."

"Kid, I will pay you your hat's weight in gold if you promise to never let Aveline hear you say that." Varric practically begged.

"Yeah, that was sweet and all, but what about the good parts?" Iron Bull asked bored. "I mean, you've got to have details on the fun bits. You know, like the bachelor or bachelorette party?"

"Yeah! You got to know the Guard-Captain's last naughty night out, right?" Sera asked eagerly.

"As a matter of fact I do." Varric answered. "Despite Aveline's objections, Isabela did indeed drag her to a bachelorette party, along with Merrill, Lady Elegant, and Anders even managed to sneak Bethany there. Sadly, I won't mention the dark details here. Such things are best unsaid in the presence of the future Divine."

"From what I heard of this Captain Isabela, perhaps that is for the best." Cassandra agreed.

"Oh, come on! You can't just say that then not tell us!' Iron Bull insisted.

"In case you've all forgotten, I did use to be a Bard." Leliana reminded. "I've heard and seen many great acts of debauchery and excess that members of the Orlesian court think they've kept well hidden."

"Indeed." Vivienne spoke. "I doubt anything could possibly top what actually goes on at the Count de Bouchere's Wintersend parties when they close the doors. There are brothels more conservative than those people."

"Well, if we can dispense with the gossip and distractions, maybe you'd all like for me to continue?" Varric inquired.

"Yes, please continue." Rajmael urged. "What did the rest of Hawke's companions think of him?"

**~Anders~**

The former Fereldan Grey Warden and lifelong Apostate held his torch firmly in hand while he navigated his way through the maze of Kirkwall's sewer system. These labyrinthine tunnels and sewer ways were damned near impossible to figure out, but they have saved the lives of many mages, and with any luck, they would again tonight. Earlier this month, a young woman, Sonya, came to him in his clinic all but begging him to help smuggle her sister, Kara, out of the Gallows, for fear of her being made Tranquil. Despite the risks, there was no better reason to help a fellow mage if only to help keep a family together. Anders just wished that doing the right things wasn't so hard, that the world didn't condemn people for an accident of birth.

Perhaps he should have brought Hawke with him? No. Hawke had enough to deal with as it is. The last thing he needed right now was being caught by the Templars. Hawke was probably the only friend the mages of Kirkwall had left, and Anders didn't want them to lose that.

In the past few years since Hawke was crowned Champion, Knight-Commander Meredith showed her true colors and what a tyrannical despot she truly was. She all but took over the entire city, and with the Divine's authority no less, and wasted no time in treating the mages like condemned criminals and the city like a police state. Guard-Captain Aveline, being the authority-loving guard dog that she was, did barely anything to stand up to Meredith's oppression, and while Orsino did try to speak out against her, but the instant Grand Cleric Elthina showed up like a grandmother scolding misbehaving children, Orsino lost his spine. The Grand Cleric was the worst of them. That pious old biddy did nothing except pray in her fancy Chantry up in Hightown and urged the mages to just accept what Meredith was doing to them, as if her crimes meant nothing. All she did was scold the Templars like they were nothing more than local bullies, not vicious fanatics who were squeezing the life out of mages who never harmed anyone. But of course, whenever the mages did act out, or resort to extreme methods, Meredith had all the excuses she needed as well as Elthina's support. Neither of them cared to realize that the more the Templars abused the mages, the more desperate their acts became. But neither the Grand Cleric nor the Knight-Commander cared, Meredith saw all mages as a threat and Elthina only cared about what the dictums of the Chantry, not the lives that were being ruined around.

Anders paused for a moment and remembered back to his time in Amaranthine, when he was a Warden under Warden-Commander Aedan Cousland. The Hero of Ferelden didn't put up with any of the Chantry's bull. And if the Chantry wouldn't move out of his way, _he'd_ move _them_. Anders remembered when Knight-Captain Rylock, the Templar-Captain who always managed to drag him back to the Circle, tried to apprehend him, even after he'd join the Grey Wardens under the authority of King Alistair, by using his phylactery as bait. She even had the gall to say that the Chantry's authority superseded the crown's on this matter right in front of the Warden-Commander, and it was the last mistake Rylock ever made.

Aedan didn't merely kill them, he mauled them to death, and strangled Rylock until she died with his bare hands, but he let one of the Templars live. He gave the survivor the severed heads and hands to take back to the Templars as a warning that he would not suffer any threats against anyone under his command and protection. Furthermore, Aedan wanted it to be known that he recognized no other authority than the king of Ferelden's. Anders wondered what Aedan would think of the state Kirkwall was in right now. Knowing Aedan, he would have waged a one-man war with the Templars and stuck their heads on pikes to remind everyone the price they must pay for trespassing against another person's freewill. Anders couldn't take his mind off those words Aedan once said to him back in Amaranthine about how a cause is truly won. That_ a cause is not won by singing it to death, or getting on your knees and calling to some absent god for help, but by killing a lot of people. A__nd the only question worth asking before and after it is done is "can I stomach all the blood?" _Lately, Anders had been contemplating those words more and more, and began to think that this was probably the only way to make the world open its eyes.

Ander pushed the thought and memories aside. He needed to focus on the task at hand. Kara and Sonya were depending on him. He had meet Sonya at the rendezvous point so that they could get her sister. With luck, they would both be free after tonight.

Anders hid in the shadows and waited for the signal from Sonya that she was there. Two torches lit in the darkness, burning with blue flame from those weeds he gave her, it was the signal. Anders emerged from the shadows and tried to adjust his eyes to the burning light in the darkness. When he emerged from the darkness, he was horrified to see Sonya wasn't there, but instead there was a group of Templars waiting for him.

"You see, brothers. Get any mage under the brand, and they'll tell you the truth." The leader of them, a Knight-Lieutenant laughed. "Without that filthy magic of theirs to give them any backbone, their as spineless as a boned fish."

"Once we burned the brand on that scheming bitch's forehead, she told us all about this little spot of yours, Maleficar." Another one of them bragged proudly. "Imagine our surprise when she told us that there was a damned apostate running a clinic in the under city like the Chantry's laws meant nothing. I was certainly surprised."

Deep breaths of rage billowed from Anders' nostrils, and he could feel Justice stirring in the back of his mind. "Where is Sonya? What did you do with her!?"

"I'm afraid the woman has already paid for her crime against the Maker." The Knight-Lieutenant pointed his torch to the ground and revealed Sonya's lifeless body. She had been run through the chest by a Templar's blessed sword.

"Looks like you'll be facing justice in the Gallows by yourself, Maleficar." One of the Templars spat.

"Justice?! You murder a woman for trying to help her sister, force an innocent mage to become Tranquil, and call that JUSTICE!?" Anders felt like a storm was raging inside him, and the Spirit he merged with began to stir violently. "I will show you what JUSTICE looks like!"

The Spirit of Justice awoke in furious anger, ready to smite all these Templars for the sins they committed. He would _burn_ them all, render them into nothing but smoldering piles of ash! They would know what true Justice is.

Something was wrong. The spirit-merged Apostate couldn't move, it was like his whole body was paralyzed. He looked down and realized too late that this trap was more well thought out than he realized. He had stepped into a barrier, drawn by runes that the Templars set up to negate his magic. It was no use, he was trapped. Anders tried to struggle against the runes' magic. This couldn't be happening, he couldn't let it end like this.

The Knight-Lieutenant laughed mockingly at Anders and walked up to paralyzed mage like he was nothing. "Did you really think we'd come unprepared, Maleficar? But don't worry, you'll soon see that treacherous Kara in the Gallows. And be made Tranquil alongside her."

"He is not going anywhere, and neither are any of you." Declared a strong, familiar voice in the darkness.

The Templar who bragged about branding Kara screamed in agony as a long, black blade erupted from his chest. He looked at the blade sticking out of him like a tree branch, his own blood coating it. His screams intensified horrifically when the blade cut downward and spit him open from his chest to his crotch, spilling all his guts and innards all over the filth of the sewer floor.

All the Templars drew their weapons, their courage suddenly faltering, and Anders' spirit lifted, at the sight of the Champion of Kirkwall standing over the eviscerated corpse of his slain victim, the Celebrant dripping with his blood. Anders watched with triumph while Hawke attacked their enemies. The Champion moved with such speed and power and cut the Templars down like a bolt of lightning cutting through darkness. Blood sprayed through the air, their screams cutting through the darkness. By the time their torches hit the ground, every Templar in this cesspit was dead, except for one. The Knight-Lieutenant who killed Sonya was trying to crawl away in the filth of the sewer floor, hacking up blood from the sucking chest wound Hawke inflicted on him.

Hawke calmly walked over to the wounded Templar to finish the job. Anders couldn't help but enjoy the sight of Templar squirming in the filth and shit on the sewer floor. It was exactly where murderers and bigots like them belonged. Hawke kicked the Knight-Lieutenant on to his back and raised the Celebrant over his head.

The Knight-Lieutenant groaned in agony and vainly struggled to get Hawke's mailed boot of his chest wound, but it was for naught. He spat blood on his killer's chestplate, and spouted the same rhetoric all Templars like to say.

"A curse on you, Champion! Interfering with the Templars' divine duty is a sin against the Maker!" The dying Templar railed. "He will damn you for slaying my holy brothers and siding with this vile creature!"

Hawke scoffed at the Templars dying words. "Funny. You say that, yet I'm the Champion of Kirkwall, and you're just a nameless Templar who died in a pile of shit. Looks like the Maker favors me more than you." The Champion brought his sword down and cleaved the Templar's head in two, silencing his rhetoric forever.

Hawke went over to his paralyzed friend and scraped away the runes that were holding him. Anders took a moment to catch his breath and take in what just happened. As much as he was thankful for Hawke rescuing him, he couldn't help but feel it was a hollow victory. Sonya was dead and Kara had been made Tranquil.

"Hawke, how did you know where to find me?" Anders asked, still recovering from his outburst.

"I received a message from one of Bethany's friends who brings supplies to the Gallows." Hawke answered. "She told me that she overheard the Templars bragging about how they forced Kara to go through the Rite of Tranquility, and how her sister was planning to smuggle her out with the help of an apostate. I knew that could only have been you. And when I got to your clinic, one of your patients told me which tunnel you took, so I tracked."

Anders went over to Sonya's body and respectively closed her eyes. He couldn't leave her like this, left to rot and be gnawed on by rats in a dark sewer, she deserved better. "Sonya didn't deserve this Hawke. She was a good woman, trying to rescue her sister from a fate she didn't deserve, and they murdered her for it. Shoved a sword through her and called it justice."

"I'm sorry I couldn't get here in time, Anders." Hawke said with genuine regret. He would have been devastated if something happened to his sister.

"What do you have to be sorry for? It's them who should be sorry!" Anders shouted, echoing through the sewers. "And you know what the funny thing is? These bastards will all end up getting a grand funeral and ceremony with the Grand Cleric honoring their service and sacrifice, but none of them will give two shits that these Templars murdered Sonya for trying to save her sister. None of those holier-than-thou peons will even know her name."

"We know her name, and I think that would honor her more than the empty, practiced words that the Chantry servants repeat every day." Hawke said consolingly. "I'll make sure she gets the burial she deserves."

"What's the point of this, Hawke?" Anders asked despondently. "This place was the last route I had to smuggle mages out. Thanks to Meredith, the Mage Underground is all but destroyed in Kirkwall. At this rate, the mages in this city will no longer have any future as anything other than prisoners or slaves."

Hawke looked at his friend sternly, he was never one to ever back out of anything. "If we quit now, Anders, Sonya's life will have been for nothing. The only way people like Meredith can truly get away with their crimes is if people like us choose to quit because our path gets harder."

A faint but genuine smile crept across Anders' face. "You're right. We have to keep fighting or nothing will ever change. Some day, we'll live in a world where your sister won't have to live like a prisoner. Thank you for, Hawke. You're the best, and probably only friend I have now."

**~XoXoXo~**

"Sweet Andraste." Leliana said full of shock. "I...I had no idea things were so brutal in Kirkwall."

"That poor girl. All she wanted to do was help her sister." Josephine said with pity. "I would have done anything for my sister, if only to save her from such cruelty. No one deserves that."

"The events at Kirkwall were deplorable, I agree, but none of that excuses what the apostate Anders did in destroying the Chantry." Vivienne said with disdain, like she scolding a child for their naïvte. "If anything, all he did was prove everyone's fears about mages to be true with his actions."

"It's easy for us to judge in hindsight, but you, Lady Vivienne, have no business to talk about what happened in Kirkwall." Cullen spoke out sternly, reminding the Imperial Enchanter of her own misgivings. "You weren't there and didn't see the crimes that were committed there, but _I_ did." A look of guilt glazed over Cullen's face. "I knew that some, many, of my fellow Templars were treating the mages with such cruelty, and even abusing the citizens we were supposed to be protecting. Whenever I questioned Meredith about these methods, she would remind me of what happened to me in Ferelden, and assured me that what we were doing was for the good of the city. And like an idiot, I believed her."

"Curly and I saw the crazy shit that went down in Kirkwall, and just how off her rocker Meredith truly was." Varric added. "Anders had been kicked to the curb so many times, I guess he decided he finally had enough."

"Treat someone like an animal long enough, then that's exactly how they'll behave." Blackwall commented.

"First the Qunari Invasion, then the city is locked down by its own Templars. Makes me wonder if the city is cursed with some horrible bad luck or something." Dorian remarked.

"Kinda sounds like what we do to the mages back in Seheron, except the whole _'rebelling against the system'_ thing." Iron Bull added. "We'd just kill them all and be done with it."

"He was another mage that held a spirit. Like Rhys' mother, or Evangeline after her." Cole reminisced. "But theirs was a Spirit of Faith, warm, gentle, always seeking the best in people. But his was different, a Spirit of Justice turned to Vengeance. Harsh, vicious, angry, seeking to punish any and all who committed wrongs." Cole's face became sorrowful and full of regret beneath his hat. "I am sorry for the pain your friend must have felt."

"We...heard about how harsh the Templars' treatment was, but the more we looked into it, the more evidence we found of magical abuses. It seemed justified. How could we have been so blind?" Cassandra asked aghast.

"And it was because of that neglect that Anders finally went off his rocker and started the whole Mage-Templar War." Varric emphasized. "Maybe if someone had taken the time to notice, he never would have done what he did. But that's neither here or there. What's important, is that's how Hawke won Anders' friendship, even though in the end he threw it away. But enough of that. This part of he story is about all Hawke's companions"

**~Fenris~**

Fenris sat alone in his decrepit manor in Hightown, a glass of aged whiskey clenched in his fist. He shot the glass down his throat and growled it's taste from his mouth. It was finally over. After nearly a decade of living on the run like a wild animal, it was over. Danarius was dead, Hadriana was dead, both of them killed by his own hands, and he was finally free. But why did this freedom feel make him so angry? Why did it taste so bitter? Instead of feeling joy, all he felt was anger, angrier than he had ever been. Why?!

Fenris heard the front door of the manor open, and judging from the sound of the footsteps, it was Hawke. The man who helped him every step of the way during his stay Kirkwall, who helped him track down Hadriana and kill Danarius, and all he could feel for him right now is angry.

"Festus beimo canavarum." Fenris swore under his breath at the sight of Hawke.

"If your intention is to insult or demean me, Fenris, you might have better luck talking in a language I can understand." Hawke rebutted.

"It mean _'you will be the death of me'_." Fenris said angrily. "Six years ago, I stayed in Kirkwall, in part, because I owed you, but also because I thought you could help me. And you did. Hadriana is dead, Danarius is dead. I am finally free!"

"Is this some Tevinter was of giving thanks? Getting pissed at the man who's been putting up with you and helping you for all these years?" Hawke asked satirically.

"None of it feels like it should!" Fenris shouted furiously. "This _freedom_ tastes like ashes!"

Hawke glared at Fenris with equal anger in his eyes. He was done putting up with the elf's temper. "Fenris, for once, do me a favor; sit down and shut up. Just shut the fuck up!"

Fenris glared back at Hawke, but nonetheless did as he was told. Hawke grabbed the whiskey bottle off the table and chugged back several gulps of it.

"I want you to think back to all the times where I have helped you, and I want you to tell me if you think there's this reoccurring theme with you." Hawke told Fenris, wiping the whiskey off his lips. "Remember the first time we met? I know I do."

Fenris remembered that day just as well. He had used the dwarf, Anso, as a middleman to acquire someone with enough skill to help him kill the Tevinter slavers who were hounding him. Hawke thought he was helping Anso smuggle some lyrium, and he wasn't very happy about being deceived into facing another man's problems. Regardless, Hawke still decided to aid Fenris in his quest to kill his former master, despite Danarius being a powerful Magister. Hawke decided not to involve Aveline, because by Kirkwall law, she would have been obligated to alert envoys from the Imperium that a Magister's slave was hiding in the city. So he decided to bring Varric and his sister Bethany to help him.

However when they arrived there, they were greeted by a manor full of demons. Fenris had gotten used to fighting such creatures when he was a slave, but was surprised not only at how well Hawke fought against them, but how easily he dispatched them. Apparently, Anso had chosen well. When the demons were all slain, Fenris was disappointed to discover his former master was not there. Disappointed, but not surprised. Danarius had always been a coward. Fenris couldn't forget what happened after that...

"The first words out of your mouth was how terrible your life had been because magic. That it had _'hunted you at every turn'_ and _'been a plague on your life that had been burned in to your soul'_." Hawke recounted with a hint of disdain in his voice. "Then you turned around and insulted my sister, as if I wasn't standing there! You called Bethany a viper, that she would turn on me when I least expected, like you knew her better than I did!"

Fenris scowled at the memory. It was true, and it was unfair of him. Bethany was a gentle girl, and she didn't deserve his ire. Looking back, it made him feel like a total bastard.

"Instead of thanking Bethany for volunteering to help keep your sorry ass out of slavery, you insulted her right in front of me!" Hawke shouted angrily. "My first instinct was to plaster your face into the pavement, but Bethany urged me not to, and that's just one more thing you can thank her for!"

"That...was a long time ago. I had been evading mages my whole life, I never thought there would be one who would actually help me." Fenris admitted dourly.

"Oh? Is that your excuse? Merrill and Anders have been trying to help you for years, just like I have. Yet every turn, every opportunity, and without real provocation, you have demeaned and insulted them, even after they would have laid down their lives to aid you." Hawke's voice became harsher, like he wanted to cut Fenris down with his words.

"Someone in your group has to remain practical. You allow your sympathies and ill-advised relationships with them to endanger others around you." Fenris hissed. "Anders is an Abomination, just him walking around poses a threat. And Merrill is a bloodmage; she's already listened to the words of a demon, all it takes is for her to heed its words and she can destroy half the city! These are facts that you seem content to ignore!"

"Oh, it's facts you want to talk about?" Hawke scoffed like it was bad joke. "Well, here's a couple of facts that you seem content to ignore. Anders is down in Darktown _EVERY DAY _providing healing and hope to the unfortunate people who dwell there. Merrill is risking her life, and sacrificed any chance of being with her clan in the hopes of reviving even a single piece of elven history. Not other people's lives, hers. Those two have devoted themselves to something they believe, that they think is greater than themselves. Now tell me: what have you accomplished in the past six years as a free man that compares to them? Besides squatting in a stolen mansion, getting drunk and bitching about how terrible and unfair your life has been?"

Fenris' scowl could shatter a mirror, and the anger he felt inside began burning hotter than before. "You think I want to live this way? I know nothing else! A slave isn't taught how to make a life for themselves!"

"And once again, you're making excuses for yourself." The Champion countered. "Tell me, what was that excuse you gave me when you crushed Hadriana's heart inside her chest after you gave her your word that you wouldn't kill her?"

Fenris' temper and lyrium tattoos flared like wild fire at the very mention of that wretched woman's name. "Don't even try to use that bitch against me! In case you've forgotten, she sent the slavers after me, tried to kill me! And even before I escaped, Hadriana made my life more of a living hell than it already was! You saw what she did to the slaves she kept, how she sacrificed their lives in a blood ritual to increase her power. You cannot stand there and tell me she didn't deserve to die!"

"You had every right to hate that woman, I would have wanted to kill her, too." Hawke admitted honestly. "But you gave your word to spare her if she told you about your sister, and then you killed her. Like your word meant nothing. Is that what your word means? Is that how little your honor means to you?"

"What was I supposed to do? Forgive her!?" Fenris demanded rhetorically.

"Honor. Your. Word." Hawke answered lividly. "My father taught me that when a man makes a promise or gives his word, even to an enemy, he must keep it, because that is what better men do. And a man who cannot keep his word, is capable of even worse things. If your hatred, your anger, means more to you than your own honor, then you are no better than Hadriana."

"Don't you dare! I am nothing like them!" Fenris snarled. "You have no idea what they put me through. You don't know what it's like to be a slave!"

"No, I don't, but do you think I don't know loss? You think I don't know what it means to suffer?!" Hawke shouted back. "Let me tell you what I've been through: I had to watch my father, the best of men and an apostate whither away until he died. I watch my king get slaughtered by the darksapwn and the Blight destroy my country. I was helpless to save my brother from being crushed to death by an ogre, and watched as the Templars stole my sister from me. I had to witness my mother being turned into an undead abomination by a bloodmage! So don't think that I don't know what suffering is! But you wanna know something? I've never let what I have suffered define my life, or dictate my decisions when it comes to right or wrong, or what honor truly is. Can you say the same?"

Fenris tried to find an answer. "I've..."

"You've let what they what Hadriana and Danarius did to you define every aspect of your life." Hawke pointed out. "When you killed Danarius, it felt good, didn't it?"

"It was justice!" Fenris answered lividly.

Hawke wasn't finished yet. "But that that feeling didn't last long did it? Right after killing him, you felt even angrier, didn't you?"

"Yes!"

"You want to know why!?"

**"YES!"** Fenris shouted, echoing throughout the manor.

"Because you killed the only thing that gave your life meaning." Hawke finally answered. "You allowed your hatred for Danarius to dictate every thing you've ever felt, everything you've done, until it ruled you. And now that he's dead, you're realizing how empty your life truly is. That is why your angry, that's why your freedom tastes so bitter."

Fenris was shocked into silence. He wanted to deny it, but he couldn't. Without someone to hate, what did he have?

"You were always free, Fenris. You just never allowed yourself to realize it." Haw continued. "You let your hate for Danarius rule, and you let your hate for magic define you and how you treat others, and that is a life without honor. Remember what your sister said to you?"

"I remember that she sold me out to the man who ruined my life, all for magic!" Fenris recalled bitterly. "That she told me I destroyed my own identity for these damned marks and her freedom, which turned out to be for nothing!"

"And there you go again, blaming magic, letting your anger dictate what you believe." Hawke chided. "You of all people should understand that not all of us get a chance in what happens to us in life, and sometimes life gives us no choices. Varania said she looked at you and saw that you got the better end of life, and you know what's funny? She was right." Hawke's admission surprised Fenris a little. "You have skills and abilities that almost every elf in the Alienage would kill to have. How many slaves from Tevinter can say they successfully escaped the Imperium? And what have you done with these opportunities? Not a damned thing, except squat in a stolen mansion, get drunk, and complain about how unfair life has been to you when you're not helping me with whatever disaster is plaguing this city."

Fenris was still unable to speak. This sudden realization of truth had smacked the anger right out of him.

"You've got no more excuses, nothing left to hold you back. You don't wear the chains anymore, so drop the pitiful slave act." Hawke scolded. "Now you've got two choices Fenris: you can either get back up and do something meaningful with your life, something that might even bring you joy. Or, you can sit here, get drunk, feel sorry for yourself, and waste your life. You're the one who says that slaves don't get to choose. Well, you're not a slave, so choose."

Hawke placed the bottle of whiskey right in front of Fenris, then turned around to let him make his choice. "By the way, if I ever hear you insult Merrill again, I _am_ going to put your head through a wall."

Fenris was left alone in his stolen manor once again, and for the first time he could recall, he was left utterly stunned. He felt like a fool, and it took someone else to make him realize what was wrong with his life when he couldn't figure it out for himself. All these years he had been away from Tevinter, wasted because he was too busy being angry. Six years that he could have used to make his life better, as Hawke did for himself. And Hawke was right. What he was feeling, all the anger and bitterness, he did it to himself.

Fenris grabbed the bottle of whiskey in his hand and stared it. He made his choice, and threw the damned thing against the wall. There were no more excuses.

**~XoXoXo~**

Everyone gathered around Varric and listening to his story was obviously stunned by his description about what transpired between Hawke and Fenris. Almost all of them only knew of the Champion through his reputation, which, thanks to Varric himself, had a great many embellishments. Most of them did not realize that there was a stern side to Hawke.

"Man. Just listening to that makes me feel like crap, and I didn't do anything!" Iron Bull stated, actually impressed.

"From all those tales I've heard about the Champion of Kirkwall, I thought he was all sunshine and roses." Doran admitted. "Good to know that this doglord got some bite to him."

"But it's so odd. Weren't Fenris and Hawke friends?" Josephine asked.

"Ehh. That's a loose term concerning those two." Varric admitted. "Fenris _respected_ Hawke, like any sane person would, but that doesn't always make you friends."

"The Champion's reaction was perfectly justifiable." Vivienne surprisingly agreed. "That elf should have been happy with what he had."

Sera snorted in disgust at Vivienne. "Right. Being chased around like a dog by snotty nobs after being kicked around a buncha times. Yeah, I'm sure he had a lot to be happy about."

"I don't think any elf in Kirkwall had a reason to be happy." Cullen admitted regretfully. "Serial killers preying on their children, slavers stealing them from their homes, and always being treated like dirt. But as far as Meredith was concerned, if it had nothing to do with caging mages, they didn't matter. Just one more failure on our part. No wonder half of them joined up with the Qunari."

"Still, was Hawke's reaction not excessive?" Leliana asked.

"Trust me, if you had spent six years of listening to Broody's anger issues and complaining, you wouldn't think so." Varric explained. "Some people need a heavy hand to make them realize their own shortcomings, and Fenris had been stuck in the same rut for years, not realizing what he had. Not to mention, I'm sure Hawke finally got tired of him always talking smack about mages, including Blondie, Daisy and Sunshine. There were times I actually thought Hawke was actually going to follow through with his threat and plaster Fenris' face into the pavement."

"I'm actually surprised the Champion had that much restraint." Blackwall admitted. "You don't talk about a man's family, or his woman, poorly within earshot of him and not get a violent reaction. Serrah Hawke must have the patience of a saint."

"You could say that. And speaking of saints, the last of Hawke's merry band of freaks was someone who did his damndest to act like one..."

**~Sebastian~**

Sebastian knelt before the image of Andraste in the Kirkwall Chantry, praying for an inspiration of guidance. He had just gotten done with another lecture from Grand Cleric Elthina. He just didn't know what to do. It's was as if for the past six years he had been standing at a crossroad and had no idea which path to take. He had hoped prayer would help him find the answer.

"The Grand Cleric seemed livid. Is something wrong, Sebastian?" A familiar voice asked.

Sebastian prayed for a sign from the Maker, but instead he got Hawke. Maybe this was the sign he was waiting for, but it was difficult to discern the Maker's will.

Hawke walked through the cathedral door to the Kirkwall Chantry. After so many years of coming here, not for prayer, but because of whatever trouble was stirring behind it's blessed doors, and because of all the chaos going on in this city, Hawke no longer felt the same sensation of awe and reverence. Instead, all he felt was weary of hearing the same confessions spoke with half-truths, the same empty songs and prayers repeated a thousand times until its true meaning was lost. But most of all, he was tired of the same indifference to everything that the Chantry had. He had learned all too well in his time in Kirkwall that the Chantry was either the staging ground for ignorant bigotry, or meaningless indolence. But Hawke wasn't here for the Chantry, he was here for someone who resided within the Chantry.

Hawke was here to check on Sebastian, the wayward prince of Starkhaven. With the hostilities growing between the mages and Templars, Kirkwall was going to need an outside ally to help turn back the chaos if it was going to survive. Starkhaven was the breadbasket of the Free Marches, and one of its wealthiest city-states. If Sebastian could retake his rightful place as it Prince, Kirkwall would have an ally against the lunacy growing within it.

Hawke walked up to the altar of Andraste, and did find Sebastian there, but he was having an in depth debate with the Grand Cleric.

"I'm giving it all up. I made a vow to the Chantry, and it was wrong for me to turn my back on it." Sebastian said almost pleadingly.

"Sebastian, listen to yourself." Elthina chided irritably. "You're being as impulsive now as the day you left us. Do you truly think the Maker wants another rashly spoken promise that you'll abandon when the next passion or rash thought takes you?"

"I will not abandon the Chantry when these mages defy Andraste's holy laws." Sebastian defended. "I cannot turn my back on such a threat."

"First you throw away your vows to avenge your family, now you wish to resume them because the mages are speaking out." Elthina said sternly. "This is your life, Child. Do not spend being blown about like a leaf on the wind when every strong opinion arises." The Grand Cleric noticed Hawke's approach and exasperatly gave up on the conversation. "But now here's Hawke. Come to goad you into more heroics, no doubt."

The Grand Cleric turned and walked away, with the obvious look of annoyance in her stride.

While Hawke didn't much care for her tone, he was more concerned about what he heard from Sebastian. "Please, tell me I didn't just hear what I know I just did."

"I know you're disappointed, Hawke, but my mind is made up." Sebastian said honestly. "How long has she been urging me to resume my vows, and now that I wish to, she won't take me back."

"To say that I am disappointed, Sebastian, would be a monumental understatement." Hawke's tone conveyed his chagrin. "After everything we've done, you would turn your back on Starkhaven? On everything your family gave their lives for?"

"Starkhaven can wait. The city will hardly benefit from this chaos if the mage insurrection here in Kirkwall isn't put down." Sebastian argued. "Fist we must bring the mages to heel, then I can return to Starkhaven with a clear conscience."

"So you're saying that my sister's imprisonment means more to you than your own people?" Hawke's asked, his ire provoked. "You think it's more important that mages be made to suffer than to look after the wellbeing of your own city, the people who are waiting for a leader?"

"That's not what I mean Hawke." Sebastian insisted. "The Chantry's laws are the most paramount in this world. If they are defied or broken, then the rest of this world's laws are meaningless. I can best serve Starkhaven by first serving the Chantry."

"That's a load of bull, Sebastian!" Hawke's voice resonated through the Chantry, upsetting some of its patron, but none would dare tell the Champion to hush.

Sebastian was taken aback by Hawke's tone. His face became serious, not taking too kindly to Hawke's attitude within the Chantry. "That Chantry clearly states..."

"Oh, the fucking Chantry." Hawke groaned. "Do you know what I hate the most about the Chantry, Sebastian? I hate how it tries to force itself into every aspect of people's lives. Like there's no other way to think, no other way to feel than what they tell you. As a Fereldan, I despise that sort of agenda, and after six years of living here, I am more than sick of it."

"That is your right, Hawke, though I believe in my heart that you're wrong." Sebastian replied calmly, but obviously angry. "The Chantry was founded to interpret the Maker's will, to fulfill Andraste's dream of a better world. To do that, I must be able to devout myself to the Chantry above all else."

"Do you think the world will change just because you shut yourself in a Chantry?" Hawke questioned. "Do you honestly think the people of Starkhaven will thank you for ignoring them for six years for the sake of the Chantry? They need their prince, not prayers."

"Before the title of Prince fell to me, I was a brother of the faith, Hawke." Sebastian argued. "What kind of a prince would I be if I cannot even fulfill my duty to the Maker?"

"Being a prince isn't just something that falls to you by accident of birth, or because the next man in line died, it's a responsibility. One that you have been ignoring for too long." Hawke argued back. "What do you think would matter to the Maker more? That you stayed in a Chantry and prayed for something to happen, or that you helped your people through a time of crisis after your family was slaughtered? Andraste didn't beat back Tevinter by singing the Imperium to death, she did it by picking up a sword and doing something about it."

"At the behest of the Maker, that is what set her on that path. Not vengeance or gain, but because the voice of the Maker urged her to take a stand for righteousness." Sebastian countered earnestly. "I cannot bring myself to turn my back on my oath against the Maker, unless I know it is truly for the right reason."

Hawke sighed in defeat. There was no reasoning with Sebastian, he was too reliant on the Chantry to tell him what was right and wrong, like too many in this damned city. "If that's what you want to do, fine. But you're making a big mistake. The rest of us, who live in the real world, follow action, not prayers. And on the day when you meet the Maker, what do you think will please Him more? That you stayed in a Chantry praying while Kirkwall and Starkhaven were being besieged by usurpers, or that you took up your bow and acted against them? Contemplate that while you're praying."

Hawke turned away and made his way out of the Chantry, his shoulder's feeling even heavier than when he arrived. He could feel the eyes of Sebastian and stunned onlookers watching him as he left, but he didn't care. Disrupting the false serenity of this Chantry would never bother him. As far as he was concerned, everyone in this building, especially Elthina and Sebastian needed a wake up call. Just when the people of Kirkwall needed a prince on their side, Sebastian decided that prayer and Chantry dogma was more important than their lives, or the lives of the people of Starkhaven. Kirkwall was going to have to stand on its own, and Hawke could only hope the people he had around him were enough to stop the madness that was plaguing this city.

Sebastian watched as Hawke practically stormed out of the Chantry, and everyone wisely stood out of his way. He didn't expect Hawke to understand. While he knew Hawke was a good man, he also knew that some of his actions were questionable. Covering for Anders and assisting other apostates defy the Chantry's laws was just a few of them. Hawke may have been comfortable with breaking the laws that Andraste set down, but Sebastian cannot bring himself to do that. He swore his vows to the Maker, and that must come before all else. Can any Prince of Starkhaven do any less?

**~XoXoXo~**

"Wow. This Sebastian Vael sounds like an utter tool." Rajmael remarked flippantly.

"Trust me, I was thinking that for the entire duration that I knew him." Varric agreed.

"This Prince didn't seem to know the first thing about duty." Blackwall said disdainfully. "An all too common ailment amongst the nobles. Instead of kneeling in a Chantry, he should have been looking after his people."

"Didn't I hear that this Sebastian Vael actually tried to annex Kirkwall?" Dorian asked.

"Tried and failed, is what I heard." Iron Bull answered. "Once the Inquisition and my boys showed up, that little prince slunked off with his tail between his legs."

"The only Starkhaven could ever take Kirkwall was to pry from the Guard-Captain's cold, dead hands." Varric stated as fact. "And trust me, Choirboy wouldn't last five seconds against a pissed off Aveline."

"I think that his devotion to the Chantry and wanting to remain true to his vows was a noble endeavor." Josephine said sympathetically.

"Romantic and inspiring, perhaps, but ultimately impractical, childish and naïve." Cullen said condemningly. "In the end, Sebastian's choice was a foolish one."

"Your being rather harsh, aren't you?" Vivienne asked. "I would think that a Templar of a people would understand the desire for someone, especially a prince, to remain devout to their vows to the Chantry."

"As a matter of fact, I _did_ think that, at the time." Cullen informed dismally. "I thought that my vows to the Maker were absolute, that they made everything I did, every choice I made, right. Instead, all I did was carry out the will of a madwoman who perversed the Order's duty and turned us into tyrants."

"At this point, I must agree." Said Cassandra, surprising some of them. "While faith is something we should all strive to honor and live out, it is meaningless unless we put our faith into the best of action."

"For many years, I thought the same thing." Leliana spoke. "That simply by being a part of the Chantry and serving its will, I was doing the Maker's will. But for too long, the Chantry encouraged so much negativity. Indolence over action. Bigotry instead of acceptance. We must lead by example. Encourage the best in people, let them discover the Maker themselves, instead of having the arrogance to believe that we hold all the answers."

Varric tilted his mug back and realized it was now empty. Seeing as he hadn't even started, he'd better make sure he and his audience stayed fresh in order to handle the upcoming story. "Well, everyone, if you've got to use the facilities or refill your drinks, now's the time. We're about to start the real story."

**~XoXoXo~**

Taking Varric's advice, everyone went and freshened themselves up and brought more drinks up from the kitchen. When everyone was ready, they gathered around Varric, all filled with eager anticipation. To hear a story he never told anyone, this would be something they would all remember.

"Alright ladies and gentlemen. Allow to me to make the setting." Varric started, getting into his true storyteller mode. "A political delegation. An assassination attempt. A group of extremists, and a cautionary lesson about how our actions can bite us in the ass, even when we do them for the best or most just of reasons. The tension in Kirkwall was so intense that you could have hanged yourself with it, all thanks to the issues going on between the mages and Templars. Everyone knew things were coming to a head. Then someone else came along and stirred some up some trouble of their own, and was ready to burn the city the ground."

**~Author's Note~**

**Alright, I'm back at it! I have gotten a few PMs from readers asking me to get back in the game, but the truth is I never left. I took a brief break to decide how I am going to continue this story, and now I am back to writing it. I hope you enjoy this newest arc I'm writing.**

**I've decided to write another original story arc to my story in place of the Descent DLC. Sorry in advance if some of you are disappointed with that. Personally, I found the Descent to be way too boring and tedious a thing. It became more of a chore than anything else. It didn't have enough storyline, character interactions, or even the answers I was hoping for. If anything, I was left with more frustrating questions and half-assed theories. So, I'm doing this instead.**

**When I post my next chapter, which should, hopefully, be in a couple of weeks, I will also be releasing extended versions of my previous chapters. Think of it as adding all the cut content and deleted scenes from a movie. After a few weeks of reflection, I realized there was more I could have added, and there was some content and didn't add intentionally, because I thought if I wrote too much, reading would become more of a chore than a pleasure. But after my last chapter, I feel that isn't an issue. So that's something else to look forward to.**

**I hope you all continue to read, review and enjoy.**

**Sincerely,**

**_Powerslammer._**


	40. The Untold Chapters: Part II

**The Untold Chapters: Part II**

**9:37 Dragon, Kirkwall. Two Years Ago...**

The night in Darktown was no different than the day. The only difference was the night hid the criminals, poor and filth better. Criminals still looked for victims. The desperate still looked for hope only to find nothing. And the filth just kept piling up higher and higher. The dank under-city was rank with the aroma of mixed saltwater from the sea and the stench of sewage and filth that came from the sewers. Almost every newcomer who came to this anus of the city puked from inhaling the air for the first time.

No one up top cared about the squalor and desperation that existed in Darktown. They were too busy worrying about their precious city and the issues between the mages and Templars to care about the people who were always suffering beneath their feet. What's a few more starving families when a mage or Templar wants to have it out with each other? Those Chantry Mothers loved to stroll around the city like they were the Maker's gift to the world, asking for alms and reminding people to give their tithes to the Chantry, but none would ever step foot here. The rich stayed rich, and the poor stayed in Darktown.

Fear was a constant presence in the under-city. There was always something to be afraid of. The thugs that'll kill you just for your shoes, the many disease-carrying vermin that littered this place. Even the Templars that were supposed be protecting this damned city. But tonight, there was one man whose fears were enough to drown out any fear that anyone else may have in this city. And if anyone else knew what scared him so, they too would be running for their lives out of this city.

His ear drums were ringing from the adrenaline rush. Lungs felt like they were going to burst, and his heart was pounding so hard he thought it would explode inside his chest. He was so exhausted from thirst, hunger and fatigue. But he couldn't stop now, he had to keep running. Had to get away. _They_ were after him.

He could practically feel them looking for him. There were countless places to get lost down here, maybe he could lose them here in Darktown where it was dark and narrow, and the stench would cover his scent. He had to get away, had to warn someone. He had to get to the Champion, warn him. He had to make sure this evil did not harm anymore of their people.

He could still here them behind him. Their nails scrapping the ground, their wretched breathing as they sniffed the air looking for them. His heart almost gave out, he hadn't lost them. He could hear them getting closer. Maker help him, he had to keep going. Maybe he could lose him in these narrow corridors.

No! No, no, no...It was a dead end! Maker, why? Why did he abandon him to this?!

"Sean..." The voices hissed like angry serpents in the dank air.

Sean sobbed in anguish, his blood turned into ice at hearing those Maker-forsaken monster say his name. He cried like a child who was afraid of the dark because he knew what was there. He looked back and saw the shadows of men hidden in the darkness. Sean didn't need to see them to know who they were, he could practically smell the malice on them. And standing amongst them was the figure of a soulless bastard whose heart was blacker than any pit in this city. Sweet Andraste, how he wished there were darkspawn here instead, because darkspawn would only kill him.

"Come, Stefan. We still need of you to..." The soulless bastard hissed at him.

"No! I will never betray my country!" Sean yelled back, hoping that the Maker would save him. He was not a brave man, but he was not going just let them take him. "You'll have to kill me first!"

Sean looked around for anything he could use as a weapon, and found only an empty beer bottle on the ground. Good enough. Sean snatched it up and shattered it's body, making it as sharp as a knife. With a prayer in his heart and the broken bottle clenched in his fist, Sean charged down his attackers.

The soulless bastard smashed the broken bottle to pieces with a sharp backhanded swing, and grabbed Sean by his neck before smashing him into the wall. Sean's body went limp, and the last thing he thought before his mind went completely black was his wife and children. He wished he had done more for them.

The soulless bastard spat on Sean's unconscious body. It would be so easy to kill this scum, but it was against his orders.

"Take this filth back to the kennels, with the others. And make sure no more of them escape this time." The man ordered is underlings. "Everything must be perfect; she won't tolerate failures, and neither will I." The man looked at his recaptured victim with utter disgust on his face. "Filthy Fereldan..."

**~XoXoXo~**

Hawke woke up in his gigantic bed in the Amell estate. And, as was usual for him, he wasn't alone in it. He found himself wedged between Merrill and Isabela's sleeping bodies, their arms wrapped tightly around his chest. Last night, the three of them had an intense evening of unrequited passion that went on long into the night and early morning. It started off with Isabela teaching Merrill about taking a shot glass and doing something called 'body shots', and it escalated from there. Merrill was a very, _**very**_, gifted student, and it was a lesson all three of them would remember forever.

Isabela was resting her head on Hawke's shoulder, her luscious lips curled into a satisfied smile. Hawke couldn't help but admire Isabela. Not just for her beauty, though that really did help. He had never met anyone as free spirited as her. She refused to let anyone else define her or drag her down. Isabela wanted to be as free as the wind, to travel, indulge, and live how ever she wanted. But her carefree nature made her hate responsibility and accountability, which made her seem selfish at times. After she came back with the Tome of Koslun, just after she abandoned them, Hawke and Merrill did not see her for a long time. Then one night she came back. Isabela confessed that she didn't leave because she didn't care, but because she was ashamed. She brought the Qunari to Kirkwall, made them want to destroy the city, then she abandoned them when they actually needed her. Isabela felt unworthy thought she didn't deserve Merrill's friendship or Hawke's affection.

Instead of turning her away, like she was expecting, Merrill and Hawke welcomed Isabela back into their lives. Isabela didn't give herself enough credit, didn't see the good inside her own heart. Isabela freed a ship full of Fereldan refugees meant who were tricked into being sold into slavery when they were fleeing the Blight. An act that made her the target of a notorious Antivan slaver. She came back with the Qunari relic even though she would have succeeded in fleeing. All was forgiven, and all three of the spent quite a lot of time to make up for lost time.

In the time sense then, Isabela had finally gotten her ship. Swindled it from that slaver bastard, Castillon, who had been hunting her. A pirate queen without a vessel is like a sword with no edge. But instead of weighing anchor and sailing off into the sunset, she stayed in Kirkwall. She had grown fond of the city, and the people in it. And nowhere else did she find more love and acceptance than in Hawke's manor.

Merrill's head was resting over his heart, her breathing was so soft. Hawke gently traced his hand along her facial tattoos. He always found her vallaslin to be so exotic, adding to her already slender beauty. Hawke always thought elves were beautiful, and respected them as people. Hawke always new elves were treated poorly, but he never knew how badly they were mistreated in other parts of the world. But the Dalish were different. They were a free people, made their own way in a world that rejected and despised them. Despite their diaspora, the Dalish never surrendered their pride or indomitable spirit. And Merrill possessed more of that spirit than most would suspect. She refused to give up on her goal of reviving even a shred of her people's past, despite the fact it made her a pariah amongst her own people she was trying to help.

Merrill's innocence and adorability instantly drew Hawke to her. Like Isabela, Merril was more than her beauty. She was sweet, eager and unwaveringly loyal with a strength most could not dream of possessing. She and Hawke could spend hours just talking and never get tired of each other. Of course, then they would find something much more fun to do with each other, and Merrill was always happy to take lessons from Isabela. In the years since they began their relationship, Merrill had become much more sexually assertive. While she was still shy and awkward out in public, she was anything but that in the bedroom.

Hawke planted a soft kiss on both his lady lovers, and gently untangled himself from between them. As much as he would love to spend the day in bed with them, sadly, he had other things to do. After eating a small breakfast prepared by Bodahn, Hawke went to go train.

Over the years, Hawke had converted part of the extensive wine cellar beneath his manor into a very impressive training hall with the best equipment. Weights, dummies, training weapons. Everything he needed to keep his edge. Hawke had no special powers to match the many freaks, monsters and mages he fought, despite what Varric's outlandish tales might say. He had some of the best quality armor and weapons enchanted with powerful runes only Sandal could make, but equipment was nothing without training. And thanks to the discipline instilled in him by the Fereldan Royal Army, Hawke had the discipline and will to train every day for two hours with different weapons.

Today it was shield and sword. Normally, he preferred to use the greatsword, the weapon of the Fereldan footsoldier. Perfect for breaking enemy ranks and unhorsing cavalrymen, but not so well-suited for fighting in close quarters like the confined walls and narrow streets of Kirkwall. There wasn't enough room to make a good swing, or he'd end up hitting a wall, a corner, or stall instead of his enemy. With the shield and sword, he could fight more effectively at a closer range and defend himself from the many hiding places and vantage points possible ambushes might happen. Kirkwall kept its inhabitants on their toes, and being prepared was often the deciding factor of who lived or died.

Hawke had been down here for nearly an hour, a sheen of sweat covering his bare torso. He'd been striking the dummies and perfecting the forms without stop, and he felt like he could go longer. Hawke needed to stay sharp.

"My, oh my. I'm surprised you've got any energy left after that intense work out last night. But then, you never did lack for stamina." A familiar, sultry voice spoke. Hawke turned around to see Isabela's curvaceous form leaning against the doorway, wearing nothing but his finery shirt that he discarded last night. The sultry pirate captain was looking at him like a glutton at a feast. "Oh, don't stop on my account. I was enjoying the show, and I like it when you glisten."

Chuckled at Isabela's attempt to make him blush. "There's an old Fereldan saying, 'While you sleep, your enemy trains'. And, as Champion of Kirkwall, I need to keep in shape."

"Oh, I think you're in plenty good shape already." Isabela purred. She walked up to Hawke with that seductive swagger of her, and a hungry glint in her eyes. "You know, Hawke, there are other ways to test your stamina. And they're so much more fun to do."

Isabela traced her hands along Hawke's pecs, enjoying the feeling of his warmth beneath her fingertips.

"Oh, Isabela, you're insatiable." Hawke chuckled. "But isn't it a little unfair that you get to help me with my training and leave Merrill sleeping?"

"Oh, sweet, considerate, giving, Garret..." Isabela whispered huskily in his ear. "...Coming down here wasn't my idea."

While Isabela playfully nibbled on Hawke's ear, he felt two slender, soft arms wrap around his chest from behind him. Hawke turned around and was surprised to see Merrill standing there, wearing nothing but her facial tattoos.

"Good morning, ma vhenan." Merrill greeted between hungry kisses. Last night lust was still carrying on. Sometimes Hawke could barely believe this was the same shy elf he fell in love with. Merrill was very enthusiastic this morning. Her hunger was enough to rival Isabela's. Her desire was so great, she brought Hawke to the ground and stradled his waist, running her hands up and down his muscles. "Hawke, last night Isabela mentioned something called an Antivan Milk Sandwich. It sounded really fun..."

Isabela shed Hawke's shirt and eagerly joined her fellow bedmates. Isabela and Merrill woke up hungry this morning, and they weren't going to stop until their hunger was satisfied. It was a good thing Hawke was in the training room. Being with Merrill and Isabela was the ultimate test of endurance.

**~XoXoXo~**

"Maker's Breath, Varric!" Cassandra shouted, blushing crimson with embarrassment. "I thought you were going to tell an unknown tale of Hawke's exploits, not recite his...personal life like a cheap smut story!"

"But Seeker, I thought that was your favorite kind of story." Dorian reminded smugly. "And it seems like everyone else is enjoying it."

It was true. Everyone, even their most reserved members like Blackwall, Cullen and even Leliana was breathing heavy, and eager to hear more.

"Yeah, don't stop now. Keep going." Iron Bull urged.

"Please?" Sera almost pleaded.

"What's an Antivan Milk Sandwich?" Cole asked, looking like he was about to have a nosebleed.

"Oh, it is such a tawdry thing. It started off as a trend amongst the houses of ill-repute in Antiva City, but quickly became popular amongst the nobility." Josephine answered with a deep blush on her cheeks.

Leliana quirked an eyebrow at how quickly her friend answered that question. "Um...how do you know what that is exactly, Josie?"

Josephine's blush intensified and started squirming in her seat. "Well...I'm allowed to have life too, aren't I?"

"Ahem. Maybe we should get back to the point?" Rajmael suggested. "Varric, most of us are aware of Hawke's reputation of bedding almost every woman he meets. But we aren't aware of this story. Could you get back to that perhaps."

"Oh, fine." Varric sighed. "I mostly just said all that to see Cassandra's reaction. Now where was I? Oh, right. Later, after a very satisfying work out with Merrill and Isabela, who should show up to Hawke's door, but Guard-Captain Aveline. But more importantly, this is where I came in..."

**Back in Kirkwall...**

Aveline strode the streets of Kirkwall like there was fire on her heels as she made her way to the Amell Estate. There was no time for pleasantries with the nobility or even greetings with her guardsman. The Guard-Captain was especially up tight right now, more so than usual. There was some urgent news she needed to bring to Hawke's attention. Hawke practically considered her to be family, which was good because she had not intention of knocking on his door and waiting for Bodahn to invite her in.

Aveline entered Hawke's manor and was surprised to see Varric standing in the waiting in room.

"Varric, what are you doing here?" The Guard-Captain inquired.

"The same reason you are, I assume." Varric answered. "The instant I heard this news, I knew I had to be there, just to see what kind of wreck this would turn into. It'll make for some great writing material."

"This is no laughing matter, dwarf." Aveline groaned. "It's a delicate situation that can go very wrong very easily. Worse than what happened with the Qunari, even. Now, where is Hawke? I need to speak with him."

"Bodahn said he's down in his training room, but I wouldn't recommend going down there right now..."

"I don't have time for your recommendations, Varric. I need to see him now." Varric's warning fell on deaf ears and Aveline walked down to the cellar where Hawke made his training room, with no idea what she was walking into.

"3...2...1..." Varric's countdown to tragedy was right on the money.

"Aiighhh!" Aveline's scream echoed throughout the manor and possibly the neighborhood. If she had just listened to Varric's warning, she might have known that Hawke, Merrill and Isabela were still hard at work with some very intense "endurance training" right now.

About twenty minutes everyone was now standing in the waiting room, fully dressed. Isabela on the other hand, was only mostly dressed. Varric couldn't stop snickering, that look on everyone's face when they came up stairs was just too priceless. Aveline, Merrill and Hawke all had looks of mortified embarrassment on their face, while Isabela was laughing at Aveline with her eyes.

"You know, Aveline, if you wanted to join in with us, you just needed to ask first." Isabela teased.

"Maker's breath, I'm married!" Aveline shouted outraged.

"So was I, once. Never stopped me from having fun." Isabela scoffed.

"Oh, shut up, whore." Aveline groaned.

"Perhaps you'd care to explain why you so rudely interrupted our...physical activity, Aveline?" Hawke suggested, hoping to move past this awkward moment.

Aveline couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You mean you haven't heard? What have you been doing lately?"

"Sleeping with me and Isabela every night?" Merrill answered innocently.

"That's my girl!" Isabela chirped proudly.

"Oh, please, Merrill, I can handle that kind of bullshit from Isabela, but not from you too." Aveline pleaded.

"Well, you did ask a simple question, and Daisy gave you an honest answer." Varric chuckled.

Aveline groaned in frustration then turned her attention back to the subject at hand. "Hawke, a huge foreign delegation is arriving in Kirkwall. I need you there in the Viscount's Keep when they arrive."

"Aveline, you know I hate attending such things." Hawke sighed. "The delegates that come here are always such pricks."

"Hawke, this isn't just some foreign dignitary from Orlais or Nevarra. It's the king of Ferelden." Aveline interrupted, finally revealing the importance of her request.

That stunned Hawke right where he stood. "You mean...King Alistair? He's going to be here?"

"Oh, he's an important man, isn't he?" Merrill asked. "I heard he gave the Dalish land to settle on for helping him save his country."

"Yes. I only just received the news myself." Aveline answered. "Apparently the Templars saw fit to withhold this information from me until the King was practically on our doorstep." Aveline spoke with a great of disdain for the Templars. Their constant abuse of their authority and harassing her men had become a major rock in her boots over the past few years. "I guess they believe the Kirkwall Guard isn't important enough to know when foreign delegates are coming to treat with the city."

"But why do you need me there?"

"It's a matter of protocol, Hawke." Aveline answered. "As the most important person in Kirkwall, you are obligated to meet with our most important guests. And besides, I would feel much better knowing you were there to make sure...nothing happened."

"What do you mean? Are you expecting trouble?"

"It's Knight-Commander Meredith." Aveline sighed. Suddenly, her anxiety made perfect sense. "Apparently, some mages who were lucky enough to escape the Gallows fled to Ferelden seeking asylum. The King gave it to them."

"King or not, anyone whose got the stones to tweak Meredith's nose is my kind of guy." Varric chuckled.

"Wait." Isabela halted. "This is the king who's a former Grey Warden, right? The one who fought with the Hero of Ferelden?"

"Yes. Why?" Aveline asked suspiciously.

A cat like grin spread across Isabela's face. "Oh, no reason. We should definitely meet the King, Hawke. How often do you get to meet foreign heads of state?"

Hawke was wondering why the hell Isabela was smiling like that, but decided to ignore it, for now. "So why do I need to be there, Aveline? If you're there, I'm sure not even Meredith would do anything to offend a visiting king."

"These days, I'm not so certain. And there's more to it than that." Aveline confessed. "Despite what you might think, you are still the most important person in Kirkwall, you should be the one to greet such an important guest. More importantly, you and I are still Fereldans. We both fought at the Battle of Ostagar. I think we owe it to the man who helped save our homeland."

Those words hit Hawke deeply. He didn't like thinking about that terrible day when Loghain betrayed Ferelden by leaving King Cailan and the rest of the army to die. When his family fled Lothering just ahead of the horde, when Carver was killed by that damned ogre. Some times, he still had nightmares about it. He swore on his brother's death that day that he would never again flee from his home.

"You're right, Aveline." Hawke agreed. "As a Fereldan, I owe him my thanks for saving our homeland. And I at least owe it to show him the respect that he deserves as the King of my country."

"Thank you, Hawke." said Aveline.

"Great! I'll get the others. I'm sure they'll want to see how this goes down." Varric declared.

**~XoXoXo~**

Varric was able to gather up Fenris and Sebastian, but Anders was nowhere to be seen.

"Varric, where's Anders?" Hawke asked, noticing the mage's absence.

"Blondie said he couldn't leave his clinic right now. Lots of sick people need looking after." Varric answered.

"That's too bad. I heard King Alistair was formerly a Grey Warden, and the both of them fought with Aedan Cousland. I figured those two might have some real stories to share."

"Hey, what am I? Chopped liver?" Varric protested.

"I said real stories, not embellished facts." Hawke scoffed.

"Well, that just shows how much you know, Hawke. All the best stories deserve embellishment." Varric explained.

"Let's go see if this king of yours is any different than any other noble we've encountered." Fenris urged groaningly.

"Oh, he's not like any noble I've ever encountered." Isabela assured. "Not in the bedroom anyway."

"Wait, what did you say?" Hawke asked, not quite sure if he heard correctly.

"Nothing." Isabela giggled.

"Let's just go now."

By the time they all entered the Viscount's keep, Meredith was already there, with a large contingency of her Templars accompanying her. Not the best way to greet a foreign dignitary, much less a visiting king. King Alistair was accompanied by a company of his own knights, wearing heavy plate mail armor, and were staring down the Templars like they were being challenged. Next to Alistair was an older man with a hooked nose and red hair speckled with some grey, wearing the clothing that only a Fereldan noble would wear. On the man's tunic was the heraldry of Redcliffe.

"We just ask that you see reason, Knight-Commander." The older Fereldan delegate pleaded.

"Arl Teagan, this is in direct violation of the Chantry's laws!" Meredith balked back. "There is nothing left to discuss!"

"And that's your final word on the subject?" King Alistair asked rhetorically.

"Four mages have escaped to Fereldan and you've stepped in to defend them, as if it was your right!" Meredith said, completely outraged. "What else did you expect me to say?"

"A _'maybe'_ might've been nice." The foreign king shrugged.

"I do not deal in maybes, only cold, hard facts." Meredith spoke without any respect. "Perhaps next time Ferelden elects a leader, they'll choose one who takes his duty to the Maker more seriously."

"The King of Ferelden owes no explanation to you, nor does he owe fealty to some make-believe god whose never even had the balls to show his face." Growled a viciously angry voice from within the king's rank of soldiers. "Those mages were born as Fereldan citizens first. If you, or the Maker, got a problem with that, then you can both go fuck yourselves."

The entire keep was shocked into silence at those words, even Meredith was left completely stunned. Sebastian was so stunned his mouth was left hanging open. The only thing that broke the silence was Isabela and Varric's incessant snickering. The king groaned into his hand as the man behind those words emerged from the rest of the Fereldan soldiers. He was a tall, imposing figure with a mane of dark hair held in a knot. There was a vicious glint in his eyes while he stared down Meredith, and his face was tattooed in the style of Alamarii war paint. Why did he look so familiar to Hawke. It was as if he had seen him before.

"Who...is this man who dares believe he can blaspheme in the presence of the righteous?" Meredith asked in disgust.

"Ah, yes, how rude of me." Alistair chuckled nervously. "Knight-Commander Meredith, allow me to introduce Aedan Cousland, the Hero of Ferelden."

"That's _General _Cousland to you, ya shitfaced hag." Aedan said to Meredith with revilement in his thick Fereldan accent.

**~XoXoXo~**

"WHAT!?" Cassandra and Leliana said in shocked unison.

"You mean to tell me that the Hero of Ferelden and the Champion of Kirkwall were actually in the same room together?" Josephine asked in disbelief.

"Man, I would have paid some serious money to see that!" Iron Bull laughed.

"I'm surprised the city is still standing after an encounter like that." Blackwall commented.

"I know of many nobles in the Court who would have given the left hands to have been in that room." said Vivienne.

Cassandra couldn't believe this. An encounter with two of the most legendary figures of this age in the same place? How could she have missed this? "Cullen, you knew about this?"

"Yes." Cullen answered honestly.

"Varric is one thing, but why didn't you ever say anything?" Cassandra asked the former Templar.

Cullen shifted uncomfortably where he stood. "That encounter was...not well received by the Templars. At the time, Meredith had convinced us of the dangers of _'outside influences, who knew nothing of this city, or our duty.'_ Besides, it's not an encounter I look upon fondly."

"Trust me, Curly's got some legitimate reasons for not bringing this up, Seeker." Varric assured. "And personally, I can't say I blame him."

"Why didn't _you_ ever say anything about this?" Leliana inquired.

"It seemed irrelevant to your investigation, seeing as how Cassandra was only interested in Hawke." Varric answered somewhat evasively. "And besides, you never asked me. Now, if you don't mind, maybe you'd like to let me continue with the story?"

**~XoXoXo~**

Meredith stood in shock, unable to believe her eyes or ears. This tattooed blasphemer was the Hero of Ferelden? She couldn't believe it. "_You're_ the one who slew the Archdemon?"

"I kill _all_ the enemies of my people. Including Templars, if needs be." Aedan threatened. "Now, you'd better wipe that insolent look off your face, or I'm gonna smack it right off your skull, bitch."

"Aedan...We are here to make relations, not start a war." King Alistair reminded.

The Hero of Ferelden scoffed in disgust. "Just be thankful my king's here, otherwise I'd splatter your sorry ass all over that wall."

At this point, Meredith was almost as red as a boiled lobster. She had enough of this. "How your heathen country ever gave rise to our Lady Redeemer is beyond me. I can only pray that the Maker will have a reckoning with your kingdom soon enough."

Meredith and her men angrily marched out of the keep, the Hero of Ferelden was flipping them off until they were gone. When she was gone, it felt like everyone could finally breath again.

"Well, that was bracing." King Alistair breathed with a sigh of relief.

"Meredith's lack of respect shames this city." Hawke sighed. "I'm sorry you had to put up with her."

"Not as sorry as I am." The king admitted. "I felt much manlier before meeting her. Now, not so much."

"This is the Champion of Kirkwall." Arl Teagan informed.

"Right! I'm Alistair, uh...king of Ferelden. But you knew that already. Heh-heh." Alistair shook Hawke's hand as he mumbled over his words, like he forgot what his job was. "And this is Teagan, my uncle. Sort of."

"I'm actually Teagan. I'm only sort of his uncle." The Arl chuckled.

"And like I said to Meredith, this is Aedan Cousland." Alistar reintroduced. Aedan nodded his head respectfully.

"Yes, I remember you." Hawke stated, the memory finally returned to him. "You and I met at Ostagar on the eve of battle."

"I remember you as well, Sergeant. It would seem that both our fortunes faired better than most after the battle." Aedan greeted. "What happened to your brother?"

"He...he was killed when we were fleeing Lothering. He died defending our mother." Hawke answered sadly.

"I am sorry for your loss then, I know how that feels." Aedan said with respect. "It makes me proud to see one of my fellow countrymen doing so well for themselves."

"Your Majesty, General Cousland, may I say what an honor it is to meet you both?" Aveline knelt before the king in deepest respect.

"You could, but you'd be the first today." Alisatir said sarcastically.

"I was also there at the Battle of Ostagar. What happened there...was a terrible tragedy." Aveline said with sadness in her voice.

"Ah, yes. Yes, it was." Alistair also remembered those days bitterly. "Thankfully, the man responsible for that has paid the price."

"That's for damned sure." Aedan laughed under his breath.

"Why must you speak so profanely of the Maker, General Cousland?" Sebastian asked more appalled than curious.

"Fuck you, that's why." Aedan answered contentiously.

"So you're a king now, hmm?" Isabela chuckled, eyeing the king like he was a fun toy. "Something new to brag about. But you still look so tense."

The king's face became as red as tomato and chuckled nervously at the sight of the infamous pirate queen. "Heh-heh-heh. Isabela? You look...nice."

"Ooh, still so awkwardly charming." Isabela laughed. "How adorable."

Trying to ignore this increasingly awkward moment that Isabela was starting, Hawke and Alistair decided to get back on topic.

"So, er, how can I help you, Your Majesty?" Hawke finally asked.

"Well, I would have preferred to have talked with before being emasculated by Meredith, but I'm not picky." The King said glibly.

"Why would you, the King of Ferelden, want to meet with me?" Hawke asked curiously. "I'm surprised you even know who I am."

"You're joking...right?" The King chuckled. "Everyone and their mothers has heard of you back in Denerim. A Fereldan refugee who did well for himself, became the first Fereldan Champion in the Free Marches, against all odds. Even repelled a Qunari invasion and killed the leader of their army. Riveting stuff, really."

"I wonder how you could have gotten that information." Hawke said sarcastically, looking at Varric.

"Who knows? These things have a tendency of getting out there themselves." Varric chuckled.

"Truth be told, I was hoping your influence could be of some use to me." King Alistair confessed. "Things haven't been going well with Orlais. Without a Viscount here, there's only the Knight-Commander to deal with."

"Do you fear there's going to be another war with Orlais?" Hawke asked deeply concerned.

"I hope not!" King Alistair blurted.

"You're more optimistic than I am, Your Majesty." Teagan admitted.

"Oh, please, just let them try. We'll send those inbreeding cheese-monkeys back across the Frostbacks in buckets." Aedan said with twisted anticipation.

"Sweet Maker, Aedan!" The King groaned. "I know you detest Orlais, but we did just get done with a Blight, remember? We're not exactly at our strongest."

"That's exactly why you keep me around, my King." Aedan reminded.

"Empress Celene is doing her best." The King argued. "Orlais isn't the most stable place right now."

"All the more reason to burn that miserable fucking empire to the ground." Aedan snarled beneath his breath.

"What exactly is going on with Orlais?" Hawke inquired.

"Oh, you know, the usual." King Alistair answered superficially. "Attempted assassinations, failed coups, fancy parties with smelly cheeses. Apparently, some in the empire think it would be a grand to get their lost province back."

"Well we won't let them swoop down on us, will we?" Teagan smiled.

"That's right, swooping is bad." The King confirmed.

"Is that why you were talking with Meredith? Seeking aid from Kirkwall in case war breaks out with Orlais?" Hawke realized.

"Yes." Teagan answered. "Kirkwall is one of the largest trading hubs in the Thedas, and you're direct neighbors with Amaranthine. Having this city's support would be a major boost to any militaristic effort."

"Yes, that is all true. But Meredith blew all that out of the water." Alistair sighed. "Apparently, she doesn't like my policies as king."

"Bitch." The Hero of Ferelden spat.

"You were arguing about the mages. What was going on with that?" Hawke asked.

"Yes, well, apparently I don't feel the same way about mages as the Chantry does." Alistair explained. "So that means we're in disagreement. Then they get nasty and try to hurt my feelings. They're like that."

"Sounds like the Circle has it better off in Ferelden." Hawke observed. "Better than Kirkwall, anyway."

"You'd think so, wouldn't you. Sadly, I don't control the Circle. I can only deal with the mages _outside_ the Circle, of which there are very few." Alistair clarified. "The mages in the Circle answer to the Templars, and the Templars answer to the Chantry."

"But isn't Ferelden your country, and the mages our countrymen?" Hawke said adamantly. "If the Templars are such a problem, then deal with them."

"Oh, thank you _so_ much." Aedan sighed gratefully. "I've been saying that since I was twelve years old."

"Aedan, please. Remember that thing I just said about us not being at our strongest?" Alistair reminded.

"The way things aren't always pretty. Sometimes I we can do is just put up with it." Aveline said wearily.

"I'm sure you'll think of something. No people should live in fear in their own homes." Merrill encouraged sympathetically.

"Don't fool yourselves." Fenris spoke out dourly. "Some things are better left alone. Mages are a danger, no matter what country you're in. Why risk the many for the sake of a few?"

Aedan looked at the strange elf with a vicious glint in his eyes. "I'm sorry, who the fuck are you?"

Fenris looked back at the Fereldan hero unmoved. "I..."

"Actually, I really don't give a shit." Aedan interrupted scornfully. "This is none of your damned business, asswipe. So why don't you go back to the kiddy's table and shut the fuck up. The grown-ups are talking."

Fenris stood there, deeply offended by the Hero of Ferelden's attitude. But he chose to back down. The man was right, this was none of his affair.

"Is there any I can do to aid you?" Hawke asked sincerely.

"I wish there was. But Meredith has made any relations between Kirkwall and Ferelden impossible." Alistair answered. "What you _can_ do is protect Kirkwall. I fear it will take someone like you to keep this city from tearing itself apart."

"You fear something will happen to this city?"

"If you ask me, the worse thing to ever happen to this city just walked out of this building." Alistair shudder. "But, that may be the ex-Templar in me talking."

"You know, many of our countrymen fled here during the Blight." Hawke's informed the king, his mind drifting to all their fellow countrymen living in squalor in Darktown. "It...hasn't been easy for them here."

"I know. And I wish I could have done more for them." Alistair said sadly. "After the Blight and the civil war, there was so much rebuilding to be done. And it hasn't exactly been peaceful since then."

"That's why _I_ am here." The Hero of Ferelden stated as fact.

"And I wish you the best of luck, Aedan." Alistair bade before turning his attention back to Hawke. "Well, I suppose I should be heading back."

"We should." Teagan agreed. "Queen Anora is expecting you to be back in Denerim by week's end."

"Does she need to tug my leash so hard?" Alistair sighed.

"Alas, my king, but that is the best way wives know to keep their husbands in line." Teagan consoled.

"Good luck, Aedan. Try not to cause too much trouble." Alistair bid his lifelong friend goodbye as he left.

"No promises." Aedan chuckled.

The King and Arl both made their leave from the Viscount's Keep, leaving the two legendary figures alone. Varric realized he was standing on a writer's gold mine. Being in the same room with two figures of such epic legend was almost a dream come true. Now how best to tell this tale so other people will believe him?

Aedan turned to the Champion and gave him a respectful bow. "It was an honor to meet you again, Sergeant, but now I must take my leave. Other matters need my attention."

"You're staying in Kirkwall, then?" Hawke asked curiously.

"For a time. There are matters here that I am obligated to address." The Hero answered stoically. "If you wish to see what, then I invite you to meet in front of the Chanter's Board tomorrow morning. I would be deeply honored to have the Champion of Kirkwall there."

"And I would be deeply honored to oblige the Hero of Ferelden." Hawke accommodated.

Aedan's eyes locked on to Isabela, and not in the way she liked. It was either that _"I'm accusing you of something"_ look, or _"you and I have unfinished business"_ look. Either way, a look like that coming from the Hero of Ferelden made Isabela feel more than a little nervous.

"Captain Isabela, I've been led to believe that you were supposed to deliver a cargo ship for a certain Antivan slaver seven years ago. That you were responsible for _'losing'_ the cargo." Aedan said seriously.

Now, normally, Isabela's natural reaction would be to lie through her teeth, maybe give a wink and a smile, but she had a feeling that if she lied to this guy, he would know. And if he found out she was lying, Isabela knew he'd take exception to that. She was going to have to play it cool. She's talked her way out of bad situations before.

Aveline couldn't help but feel a slight sense of triumph at the Hero of Ferelden asking Isabela of her misdeeds. Years of criminality finally catching up to the sea-faring strumpet. But at the same time, she didn't want Isabela in this position. She might have been a whore and a troublemaker, but she was still a friend, and she didn't want to see her being the object of the Her of Ferelden's ire.

"I might have been in the employ of someone like that, once." Isabela evaded. "At the time I had no idea what cargo I was carrying, and then I made an emergency stop, told my men to enjoy some shore leave while I got inexplicably drunk, and when I recovered from my hangover, the cargo was gone. A cautionary tale of how to be careful where you dock and keep your things."

"What, the cargo, which was secured in the holding of a famous raider's ship, just happened to walk of on its own?" Aedan asked skeptically.

"If you think that's strange, try seeing what goes on in Hanged Man after midnight. You'd be surprised the things that move around there." Isabela answered, putting on her most assuring smile.

"It's true. Some of the things there are worthy of their own place in the Black Emporium." Varric added, trying to help the Rivaini out.

"I see." Aedan's eyes were still locked on Isabela with that accusing look in them, making the Pirate Queen even more nervous. Her heart started pounding erratically when she saw the Her of Ferelden's hand moving towards his hip, where that axe of his was resting.

Aedan's hand moved faster than Isabela could react. She had forgotten that this guy had once swiped her cards in a game of Wicked Grace. But instead of pulling out his axe, like she thought he was going to do, Aedan tossed Isabela a rather large purse of coins. Judging by the weight, it was full to the brim with solid gold sovereigns.

"Oh my." Isabela said in awe, admiring the gold in he hands. "What did I do to earn this big bag of shiny? Or did I have do something for it?"

"Consider it payment for doing my job for me." Aedan answered. "Those slaves you were carrying were the men and women Arl Howe sold to Tevinter, people I was unable to save. I believe services done for my countrymen deserve recompense."

"Hey, for a bag of gold like this, I'll gladly service a boatload of Ferelden's every week." Isabela joked.

"Maybe you could ask Aveline to help you?" Merrill suggested innocently. "She says that it's her duty to serve people every day."

"You know, you're Kitten. I think Aveline _could_ use some..._servicing,_ every day." Isabela snickered.

Varric and Hawke both laughed out loud while Aveline groaned in disgust. Merrill just stood there confused, and wondering what she said that was so funny.

"Before I retire for the day, perhaps there is something you can assist me with." The Hero of Ferelden requested. "I've heard rumors that an old friend of mine was here in Kirkwall. He and I served together back in Amranthine. A mage going by the name of Anders. Would it be possible for you to point me in his direction?"

"If you like, I can take you to him straight away." Hawke offered.

"Excellent. Please, lead the way."

**Shortly, in Darktown...**

Aedan could scarcely believe his senses at the sight and smell of this underground slum known as Darktown. The Alienage in Denerim was no palace garden, but at least there was some joy and merriment to be found there amongst the elves who called that place home, and it even had fresh air. Here, it was like everyone just cast aside all the unwanted and despised like one big latrine, and tried to forget it was there. This was what his people have had to call home when they fled Ferelden? Crime was the law down here, and murder was more abundant than sunlight. Whole families trying to raise their children in this cesspool of filth and depravity. It took everything Aedan had not to puke at the sight of it all. Perhaps it would have been better if the Qunari just burned this city to the ground.

However, there was at least one ray of sunlight and decency in this bottomless cavern of shit and crime. And it came in the form of a free clinic, devoted to helping the endless ailing and injured that lived in Darktown, ran by a by an altruistic mage who provided relief and healing, without ever giving a thought to coin or payment. It was this man that Hawke had brought Aedan to see.

Anders was working hard at his clinic once more. So many people suffering from the ailment of living in all this filth and darkness. Dysentery, malnourishment, infections, even the most treatable of illnesses could be fatal down here. A woman who had come to see her several times this week was here again. She was not injured, but here for something else.

"Master Anders, have you heard any news of my Sean yet?" The woman begged tearfully.

"I am sorry Ella, but no, I haven't seen your husband." Anders answered sorrowfully.

Ella began sobbing uncontrollably. "He's been missing for nearly a week now. It's not like him to be gone for so long, even if he was looking for work, he would have sent word! What am I going to tell our children?"

"I am sorry, Ella." Anders tried to console the weeping woman. "Listen, I'll bring this matter to the Guard-Captain as soon as I see her. Perhaps she can help find your husband." Anders placed a small pouch of coins in her hands. "Here take this. It's not much, but you should be able to get some food for a few days."

"Bless you, ser." Ella wept. Even in this horrid place, there was still some good to be found.

Anders washed his hands and began preparing more salves and poultices. Poor Ella. She and her husband had been through so much. Like Hawke's family, they fled on a ship from Gwaren to escape the Blight, but sold all their belongings just to get here. With no money or aid, they had no choice but to come to Darktown. Sean was able to find work from time to time, but never anything permanent. Now he was missing, And he wasn't the only one. Lately, Anders had heard about over a dozen people who had gone missing in Darktown. Perhaps this was no coincidence. He'd bring this matter to Aveline soon.

The bell in his doorway rang as someone walked into the clinic.

"Please take a seat. I'll be right with you." Anders called. "Can you tell me what ails you?"

"Oh, nothing much. Someone just kind of stabbed me in the back is all." A voice answered with a thick Fereldan accent.

Anders froze where he stood. That voice, it was so familiar. "What did you say?"

_**"Anders...!"**_ That same voice growled like a vicious animal.

A deep sense of dread gripped Anders' very soul. His heart began to pound in his chest with fear, and his hand unconsciously reached for his staff.

"You touch that staff, you lose the hand."

Anders slowly turned around, praying to the Maker it wasn't who he knew it was. The day he had dreaded had finally come. Anders was staring Aedan Cousland in the face, those fearsome eyes of his burning red. "Warden-Commander...ugh!"

Before anyone could do anything, Aedan had dashed across the clinic and grabbed Anders by the neck and slammed him into the wall. A wave panic went through all of Anders' friends at the sight of what was happening, and guilt for bringing this down on him.

"What in the Maker's name are you doing!?" Aveline demanded.

"Release him, now!" Hawke shouted.

"Everyone, get back. This is between me and Aedan." Anders wheezed through his attacker's powerful grip. He could feel Justice stirring inside him. The power of that terrible spirit waking up, wanting to fight back against the man who dared to threaten.

"Yeah, that's right, Justice. Wake up! Show me what you can do! I'll rip you right out of Anders' thick skull and send you back to the Fade in pieces!" Aedan dareed sinisterly, seeing the power of the Spirit of Justice waking inside Anders, his own eyes glowing red. But the mage held the spirit back and relented, he wasn't going to destroy his own clinic. Aedan was slightly disappointed. "Seven years I've been looking for your sorry ass, but then you're the expert at escaping powerful Orders, and hid your tracks very well. Imagine my surprise when Nathaniel dropped me a letter telling me you were with the Champion when he was rescued in the Deep Roads."

"Hawke, you can't let him do this. Anders is our friend!" Merrill pleaded.

"Stay back, Kitten. This is how men settle their problems, and this is an issue between Wardens." Isabela warned.

"Maker's breath, Blondie! What'd you do to make the Hero of Ferelden so pissed off at you?" Varric finally asked.

"That's a good question. What _did_ you do to make me so pissed?" Aedan asked rhetorically. "Why don't you tell them, since you're their friend?"

"Warden-Commander, I...grkh!" Anders' former commanding officer tightened his grip around the mage's neck.

"_Don't_ call me that. I am no longer your commander, and you are no longer my comrade. Tell them why!" Aedan demanded furiously, his eyes burning like hot coals inside his skull.

Anders stared back at his former leader, his own eyes filled with pain and anger, but finally averted his gaze. He was too ashamed to answer.

Aedan was ready to administer some pain on the insolent mage, until he felt the tip of the Champion's sword at his back.

"That's enough. Let him go." Hawke demanded calmly.

"Sergeant, I don't want to fight you if I don't have to, and this coward isn't worth your trouble. Put it away, or I'm going to doing something you'll both regret." The Hero of Ferelden warned.

"I didn't bring you to this clinic so you could brutalize Anders in front of me. Whatever he may have done to you, Anders is still my friend, and I look after my friends." Hawke leaned his weight behind his sword and pressed it into the Hero's back to let him now how serious he was.

Varric didn't know if he should be excited or scared shitless. Two legendary figures fighting over the same person. How many women in Thedas would kill to be in Blondies' position right now? But standing in this room with both these two powerful warriors ready to shed some blood, was like being caught between two dragons fighting over a piece of meat, and hoping you didn't end up getting burned.

Realizing he had treaded over the hospitality of another, Aedan was ashamed at his own actions and relented. His eyes returned to their normal blue hue and he released Anders from his grip. The mage grabbed his neck and coughed terribly, but he was fine.

"I gave you my trust, Anders, and you betrayed that." Aedan spoke with scorn in his voice. "I might have understood what you did if you had stayed and explained yourself. Shit, I might have done the same thing if I were you, but just like everything else in your life, you ran like a coward and abandoned your oath! If I executed you right now, I would be within my rights. But unlike you, I am not fool. You're the only one in this shitpile of a city who is actually helping the people down here, and I won't take that from them. Against my better judgment, and for what the service you gave to Amaranthine, I'm going to let you live and no longer pursue you, but know this: you are no longer welcome in Ferelden, and if I ever catch wind of you setting foot in my country again, I _will_ kill you."

Aedan turned about face, and made his way out of the clinic. The murderous aura still lingered about him like a bad odor, and everyone in Darktown who saw him immediately got out of his way.

Everyone, especially Anders, breathed easier when the Hero of Ferelden left the clinic, but Hawke didn't unsheathe his sword until he was sure Aedan was gone. Anders got back up, none the worse for wear, but the look of shock and even shame was glued to his face.

"I had prayed that this day would never come." Anders sighed sadly. "But then, what hope would I have when not even Loghain Mac Tir or the Archdemon stood a chance against Aedan Cousland? Considering what he did to the people he executed back in Amaranthine, I suppose I got off easy."

"What exactly did you do to bring a man like him down on you?" Hawke asked sheathing his sword.

Anders sat down in his chair, a mournful look on his face that threatened to break into tears. "I...betrayed him, just as he said. Not long after I helped Aedan kill the Mother and the Architect in the Dragonbone Wastes, we had gotten a few more recruits who joined the Order. One of them was a Templar named Rolan. Aedan had gone to answer the summons of a dwarven lord named Jerrik Dace about a thaig called Amgarrak, and wasn't there at the time. I had just...merged with Justice, and Rolan and some of the other recruits decided that they _'couldn't have an abomination in the Order'_, like it was there place to make that decision." Anders placed his face in his hands like trying he was trying to cover his shame. "I don't know what happened. I lost control, and Justice took over. A few moments later, they were dead and I Rolan's severed head in my hands. There was no way anyone would accept my side of the story, and Aedan wasn't there to defend me, I didn't know if he even would. So I fled Ferelden, and did everything I could to cover my tracks."

For years Hawke had wondered why Anders had fled Ferelden, why he was so desperate to make sure the Wardens never found him. Now he understood all too well. He had incurred the wrath of one of the most vengeful men alive, but Hawke couldn't help but think that Anders was not in the wrong.

"But you did nothing wrong." Hawke said sympathetically. "Those men were trying to kill you, and you defended yourself. They had no right!"

"Do you even hear yourself, Hawke? Did you not hear _him_?!" Fenris asked outrageously. "He willingly made himself an Abomination, then proved their fears right when that thing inside him killed them! What he did was inexcusable!"

"And what's your excuse, Fenris!?" Hawke demanded, glaring at the Tevinter elf. "You told me yourself, you killed the men and women who saved you because Danarius ordered you to. Anders only defended himself."

"Hawke is right." Merrill agreed. "You were only trying to do what you believed, trying to help a friend."

"I don't agree with what you did, Anders." Aveline spoke. "But those Wardens didn't have the right to just execute you. No one has that right."

"I gotta admit, this kinda lowers the Warden's image from my point of view." said Varric disappointedly.

"See, this is why I don't like Orders and rules." Isabela said in her usual sarcastic tone. "Do one teeny-tiny thing they don't like, and they want to throw you in prison or cut off your head."

"None of that changes what I did or why Aedan hates me." Anders sighed. "I abandoned my post, betrayed my oath to defend Amaranthine. He placed his trust in me, even defended me from the Chantry, and slew the Templars who came after me. But the instant things didn't look like they were going my way, I abandoned the Wardens, just like I did the Circle. I spat on Aedan's trust, even after everything he did for me."

Anders sat there, looking as though he might cry. Hawke knew that Anders carried a terrible burden, one that grew heavier and heavier each day. And it had only gotten worse since Meredith took over the city. Hawke couldn't imagine the pain he was in, and still trying so desperately to help his fellow mages and heal the sick and needy.

Hawke placed a sympathetic had on Anders' shoulder. "I think that if Aedan Cousland actually wanted you dead, you'd be dead. You probably know that better than I do, Anders. And while he may be angry with you, I think even he understands the importance of what you're doing here, the lives that you're saving. Lord Cousland seems like a man who knows the importance of saving and protecting lives. And that's something the two of you have in common."

Anders choked back a stifled sob and tried to compose himself. "I'm sorry, Hawke. I must look like a bloody girl right now."

"Yeah, kind of." Varric said trying to lighten the mood.

"Thanks for being here, Hawke. Maker knows your friendship's the only good thing I have."

**~XoXoXo~**

"_That_ was why Anders left the Wardens?" Cassandra asked disbelievingly. "I thought he simply left for the same reasons he fled the Circle."

"He _did_ leave for the same reasons he left the Circle." Dorian confirmed. "Templars were trying to kill him, even after what he had accomplished, so he left."

"That poor man." Leliana said sympathetically. "He tried so hard to do the right thing, yet all he ever got was more pain."

"It wasn't fair." Josephine's voice was laced with sorrow. "He fought alongside the Hero of Ferelden to defend Amaranthine, and still people wanted to take his life."

"While the man's circumstances were unfortunate, that doesn't change the fact that he brought it upon himself when he willingly became an Abomination." Vivienne reminded coldly. "The Templars were merely carrying out their sworn duty. Even within the Wardens, mages need oversight."

"I'd have jumped ship too." Sera spoke out harshly. "Someone wants to cut my head after I got done savin' 'em, I ain't stickin' around."

"What she said." Iron Bull agreed. "That's like saying it's alright for them to want to kill me because they didn't want a Qunari in the Order."

Cullen shook his head regretfully. "I remember Anders. I used to think we were failing in our duty by letting him walk around as an apostate, that we should have arrested him. I never once gave even gave a thought to the people Anders was helping, who he was healing. Maybe if we had been helping those people, instead of treating mages like criminals, Anders never would have did what he had done."

"I can understand the Hero of Ferelden's anger." Blackwall said solemnly. "You don't just abandon your post after swearing an oath like the Wardens do. Though I suppose, sometimes circumstances make that oaths seem meaningless."

"I'm sorry, are guy going to keep commenting, or are you going to let me tell the story?" Varric asked slightly annoyed.

"Sorry, Varric. Please continue." Rajmael urged.

"Alright. Now where was I? Oh, yes! A little while later..."

**A Little While Later...**

Hawke and most of his companions, with the exception of Anders, obviously, and Sebastian, made their way over to the front of the Chantry where they heard the Hero of Ferelden was. After what happened yesterday in Anders' clinic, Hawke was reluctant to ever want to meet with Lord Cousland again, but he remembered what Aveline said. As the Champion of Kirkwall, Hawke was obligated to attend to such an important guest, and as a Ferelden, he felt obligated to assist the man who saved their country if needs be. But most of all, Hawke wanted to know why Aedan Cousland of all people had come to Kirkwall in the first place.

From everything he knew about the legendary warrior, Aedan Cousland cared only about Ferelden, and nothing else. And while Hawke would certainly welcome the assistance of Ferelden's greatest war hero against Meredith's madness and the insanity if this city, Hawke knew Aedan was here for his own agenda. Hawke needed to know what that was. The last thing he wanted was another powerful war leader tearing this city apart.

The Hero of Ferelden was standing in front of the Chanter's Board, posting a missive, accompanied by a platoon of knights clad from head to heel in silverite armor. Standing next to the Hero's left was a young lad with brown hair and eyes carrying a green, elven styled sword on his hip. He couldn't have been much older than Carver was when he died. On Aedan's right was a young elven woman around the same age as the boy. She had no tattoos, so she was a City Elf, and had green eyes with lovely blonde hair. Despite wearing armor she was lovely to look at.

"Ooh. Who are those men? They're so shiny!" Merrill asked curiously.

"High quality silverite. Wonder how many Miner and Smith Caste members would have killed for that contract." Varric commented.

"Those are the Knights of the Silver Order out of Amaranthine." Hawke answered. "Every piece of their armor was forged by the smith Master Wade."

"I've heard of them." said Aveline. "They were formed after the Amaranthine Crisis to defend Ferelden's borders and her people. All of them were chosen by King Alistair and trained by Aedan Cousland personally."

"Hmm. If they were all chosen by Alistair, then I bet they all know how to _stand at attention_." Isabela giggled suggestively, making Aveline groan in disgust.

"So who are these two fine people standing behind you, Hero?" Varric asked curiously. "Fellow ass-kickers in service to the Fereldan Army?"

Aedan looked over to the young man and elven women behind him. "This is Bevin, Arl Teagan's brother-in-law. And this is Amythene from the Denerim Alienage. They are my squires."

"Pleased to meet you, Ser Hawke." Bevin greeted enthusiastically, and eagerly held out his hand. Hawke shook the young man's hand, and Bevin returned the gesture vigorously.

"You're even more...attractive than the stories say you are." Amythene blushed, unable to look at Hawke straight.

"Oh, Hawke, still making young girls blush. You've still got it." Isabela giggled.

"Got what?" Merrill asked innocently.

"I must ask, Lord Cousland, why are you here?" Hawke finally inquired. He's wanted to know that this whole time. "Aside from finding Anders and escorting the king? I highly doubt someone like you would leave the comfort of your own country for a small city-state."

"Please, Sergeant, just call me Aedan." The Fereldan hero requested. "And you're right, I didn't leave our homeland and come to this armpit of the Free Marches just for Anders, or because I wanted to take in the scenery. Like you said in when you met the king, there are many of our countrymen who fled here during the Blight. I have come to bring them home."

"Really, did you volunteer for this duty, Hero?" Varric asked.

"Yes" Aedan answered solemnly. "As the man who ended the Blight, and as one who serves my country, I am duty-bound to make sure those who were effected by the war and the Blight are taken care of. Something this shithole of a city has failed to do."

That caught everyone off guard, but it was a welcomed surprise. So many Fereldan refugees lived in squalor and poverty, trying to scrape a living in the filth of Darktown. Hawke has done what he can, but even his influence can only do so much. To receive any aid from back home was a blessing to the refugees here, but for one of their greatest heroes to come here and give relief? That was like an answer to all their prayers. Still, Hawke found it odd that someone as ruthless as Aedan Cousland would be so charitable, especially after that display in Anders' clinic.

"That's unusually...altruistic of you, Lord Cousland." Hawke said skeptically.

"What? I'm perfectly capable of kindness and compassion. Sometimes." Aedan insisted, but everyone in Hawke's party kept giving him that skeptic look. Aedan looked back to his own comrades to back him up. "Bevin, Amythene, you know I'm perfectly capable of being kind and compassionate, right?"

Both his squires squirmed nervously where they stood and were unable to give their commander a straight answer.

"Well, you are _usually_ very, uh...severe, Ser." Bevin answered nervously.

"And there was that one time, with that man, you threatened to...rip his, er, bits off and choke him with them." Amethyne reminded apprehensively.

"Well, after today, don't let it be said I don't have a sympathetic side." Aedan stated. "I have left what I am doing on several missives all over Kirkwall. If you could attend this gathering, Hawke, I would deeply honored. I am sure there are many in this city who would like to see the Champion stand amongst them."

Aedan and his men made their leave, and Hawke decided to indulge the visiting hero. The missive on the board read...

_**To All Displaced Son's &amp; Daughters of Ferelden,**_

_**Your suffering has been made known to your king back in your native homeland.**_

_**If you are tired of living on the scraps and crumbs of the Free Marches, if you're heart yearns to be back in your native soil, then please come to the square down in Lowtown at noon where the Hero of Ferelden waits to greet you.**_

_**Your homeland is there, and she is waiting for her children to return.**_

_**Now is the time to come home.**_

How could Hawke not want to attend such an important gathering? He had to go, for in his heart, he too wished to go back to Ferelden. Maker willing, this was the salvation his people were waiting for.

"Sounds like it'll be quite the gathering. And at any good gathering, there are always decent drinks. I think I'll go." said Isabela.

"Most Fereldans still don't have it so good in Kirkwall. Maybe this'll be the break they've been looking for." Varric spoke.

"Oh, that's so nice of him. Everyone should have a chance to go home where they have family and friends." Merrill said with a hint of longing in her voice

"I never would have guessed that someone like Aedan Cousland would have had a charitable side." Aveline commented.

"Perhaps it is as Grand Cleric Elthina said, 'Even the most hardened of souls know the love and kindness of the Maker'." Sebastian responded.

"I'm sure there are many people in this city who would also be pleased to see the Fereldans leave. This city is not kind to outsiders." Fenris reminded.

"Mother would have wanted to see this. It may have not been her native homeland, but she loved Ferelden, and so did Father." Hawke fondly remembered those days of running into the fields to meet his father. When he and Carver would play in the valley pretending to be valiant knights while Bethany read a book with their mother. Those memories now seemed like faded dreams to him now. Now, Hawke was the only member of his family that was still alive and free. He would go to this gathering, if only to honor the memory of his mother, father and brother.

**The Next Day...**

When Hawke arrived in Lowtown he barely recognized the neighborhood. Streamers were flying from poles, merchants were preparing their stalls with their finest wares instead of the cheap knock-off junk they usually tried to pawn off, even volunteers were out cleaning the streets. And everywhere, hanging from banners of the building, or flying from their own poles, was the Fereldan Flag. Never before, in all the years Hawke had been in Kirkwall, had seen Lowtown so lively. It was like a festival bloomed right in the middle of the city, and everybody was happy to attend.

The entire district was packed with his fellow countrymen, and the event hadn't even started yet. Not since he arrived in Kirkwall with his mother and sister to escape the Blight had Hawke seen so many Fereldans packed in one place in this city. However, this time they were not here as a desperate mob, filled with fear and anxiety. There were no sad, angry faces looking for help. Everyone, man, woman and child, was excited with eager looks on their faces. Even the Marchers who never cared for the Fereldan refugees came out to see this event. All of them, Hawke included, had heard the stories that surrounded the Hero of Ferelden. How he defeated Loghain Mac Tir, ending the civil war, and then ended the Blight by killing the Archdemon in single combat. And now, Aedan Cousland was here, bringing a sense of pride and victory to their displaced people.

Seeing all these faces here, realizing just how many of his fellow countrymen had come here, made Hawke feel a little guilty inside. So many Fereldans fled to the Free Marches here with their families, and nothing else. Most of them had gave up everything they owned to get here, and when they arrived they had to face the constant and harsh prejudices and abuses that the Free Marchers have for outsiders. Hawke was one of the lucky few who had been able to change their fortunes, while the rest of his fellow Fereldans still lived in squalor and poverty. Hawke had raised a charity, Leandra's Hope, named after his mother, while Anders kept his clinic doors open, to try and bring relief to those suffering many in Kirkwall, but it was never enough. Perhaps with the Hero of Ferelden here, their people's fortunes could change for the better.

Hawke so the Hero of Ferelden helping prepare the podium he was going to speak on. Before this whole event started, Hawke decided to talk with him. After all, who could pass up having a conversation with Aedan Cousland?

**~XoXoXo~**

Aedan was hammering nails into the podium stage, helping his men make the preparations. They didn't have long before this rally was supposed to start, and they needed to get this done quickly. While he was doing that, he caught a strange scent coming his way that made his stomach turn. Smelled like pretentiousness and ignorance. Must have been the Chantry.

Sure enough, he saw an entourage of Chantry members, a few sisters, brothers, couple chanters and a Revered Mother making their way from their precious temple up in Hightown to mingle with the poor masses. Amongst them was an elderly woman in high ranking robes, and by her side was that archer who was with Hawke yesterday. If these Chantry members were anything like the idiots back home, this was not going to be fun. For them, at least.

"Greetings, Hero of Ferelden. It does my heart good to see someone like you in our fair city. I am Grand Cleric Elthina, a pleasure to meet you." The head of the Kirkwall Chantry greeted welcomingly. The Hero of Ferelden merely glanced at her and went turned his attention back to his hammering, like she meant nothing. Elthina's smile melted a little and wondered if she had somehow offended him. Sebastian on the other hand, was offended by Aedan's lack of deference, but Elthina remained polite. "It was a near thing what happened in Ferelden. I am glad the Maker stepped in when He did, no doubt He was with you when you won the battle at Denerim."

Bevin and Amethyne both groaned knowing what the Grand Cleric just invited on herself.

Aedan looked at Grand Cleric Elthina as though she just insulted him. "Fuck the Maker. I never needed His blessing, and I sure as shit didn't see him at the top of Fort Drakon when I slew the Archdemon. Perhaps he was too busy hiding like a fucking coward."

Sebastian looked like he was going to have a heartattack from Aedan's words. Isabel blurted out giggling and Varric stifled back a snicker, while Aveline was stunned. Elthina was also shocked, but remained calm.

"Or perhaps He chose you to be the vessel of His will. Everything that happens is according to His plan." Elthina said gently.

Aedan started chuckling sarcastically and the two young soldiers behind him took several steps back. "His will? Is that what the Blight was? Some grand scheme of His where the lives of my people were merely the pawns? It was the _Maker's will_ that over a million of my countrymen be slaughtered by the darkspawn? It was the _Maker's will_ that my family was slaughtered in our own home? That was His will?" Aedan's eyes burned dangerously at thought of that memory. "If it was, then the Maker is one sick, twisted, evil son of a bitch, and isn't worth my spit."

"I realize that you must have seen many things, and that it must make you angry. I understand." Elthina replied sympathetically.

"No, you really _don't_, you self-righteous twit." Aedan seethed hatefully. "So let me make my stance on this matter perfectly clear so that there is no confusion: I am a godless wretch, and I piss on the Chantry. And I especially have no patience for you, a leading member of an institution that claims to stand for peace and charity, has failed my people in this city, while and apostate is running a free healing clinic in Darktown. Now, unless you've got some actual business with me, take your empty blessings, and go away. Your pious stupidity is making the air stink worse than it already does."

**~XoXoXo~**

"Oh, that was most certainly Aedan, alright." Leliana sighed into her hands.

"Shh! Quiet, Leliana." Josephine hushed.

**~XoXoXo~**

"Your people do deserve better, and I pray you can bring it to them." Elthina said with sincerity, as well as pity. She realized now that this was one soul she could not reach out to. She and her entourage made their leave from Lowtown.

Sebastian stood there in utterly outraged and appalled. Never had he ever heard such blasphemy in his life. How could this man possibly have slain the Archdemon? How dare he speak to Elthina in such a way?

"What...what kind of man are you, that you would speak such profanities to the greatest woman in this city?!" Sebastian demanded angrily.

"The kind of man who has better things to do than watching you cry like a little girl." Aedan replied blithely, resuming his work and not even looking at Sebastian.

Hawke didn't know what to make of the Hero right now. On the one hand, he didn't approve of trying to hurt the feelings of old women. But on the other hand, Hawke had to respect that Aedan was unafraid to speak his mind. Elthina always had been a bit preachy, and it was only a matter of time before she said something that would upset someone who didn't agree with her ideology.

"Champion. I'm glad you could come here." Aedan greeted, all traces of his anger completely gone.

"What you said to the Grand Cleric, did you mean it?" Hawke asked.

"Every word of it. I don't make myself out to be a liar." Aedan answered flatly.

"And what you said about Anders to Elthina?"

Aedan grunted through his nostrils at that name. "I do not apologize for what I said and did yesterday. But even I can see he's the only one in that foul-smelling pit who actually gives a damn. He may have betrayed me, but he's still more useful than that Chantry bitch, anyway."

"How dare you speak of the Grand Cleric that way!" Sebastian said completely outraged.

"Sebastian, there are many in the world who hate the Chantry." Hawke reminded. "Getting angry with someone who doesn't share your reverence for it isn't worth the headache."

Sebastian gave Aedan a dirty look, but finally relented.

"I must confess, I've never seen Lowtown like this before. It's like you've brought some kind of new life to it. Even _I_ was never able to do this." Hawke admitted, very impressed.

"Don't try to read too far into this, Sergeant." Aedan disreagarded. "Our countrymen are happy because now they know our country hasn't forgotten them. These merchants are only happy because they'd like me and my men to buy their crap. And I imagine some people are here simply because they want to see all us dog-lords leave."

"It's still a noble thing you're doing, Lord Cousland." Hawke complimented. "I've met far too many nobles who care only for their own self-interests, prejudices, and petty schemes. Not enough of them realize that nobility is supposed to be found in action not in rank."

"If you want, you could come back with us." Aedan suggested as he got back to work. "If you can afford a place in Hightown, then I'm sure you could afford to land and build a manor in the bannorn, and given your accomplishments here, and killing the Arishok in single combat, I'm more than sure King Alistair would welcome you in court as a knight. You would be welcome back in Ferelden. Give it some thought."

That Hero's suggestion rang like a bell in Hawke's head. Go back to Ferelden? Hawke spent so much time cleaning up this city's many messes, that he never actually considered it. He could go back and reclaim everything his family lost in the Blight with the fortune he's made. And then be a knighted lord in the king's court? It would be reclaiming everything his mother and father dreamed of when they left Kirkwall. Hawke was getting so tired of dealing with unending problems of this city, maybe if he went back to Ferelden, he could finally have some peace.

But before he would give this any more thought, and even though it was still early in the day, Hawke decided to go over to the Hanged Man and share a drink with Varric. With so much positive energy in the air, it made Hawke want to let go for a couple of hours. Maker knows there hasn't been a day like this for Fereldans in this city.

**~XoXoXo~**

When Hawke got to Lowtown's favorite tavern, it was packed with people here to drink happy instead of drown their woes in whatever poison was poured into their mugs. And sitting at their own table, like they were waiting for him, was Hawke's favorite natives of the Hanged Man.

"Hawke! So glad you could join us!" Varric called their residential Champion. "Rivaini and I were just enjoying some Fereldan Coastland whiskey. Want a little taste of home?"

"I could sure use some Fereldan flavor right now." Isabela winked at Hawke.

"A little early isn't, even for you two?" Hawke asked. Coastland whiskey was some really hard stuff.

"Oh, come on, Hawke, there's a party going on outside! Enjoy yourself." Varric insisted, pouring Hawke a glass.

"You know me, Hawke. I'm always in the mood for a stiff one, and a drink." Isabela said with her trademark lascivious innuendo as she passed the drink to Hawke.

Hawke looked at the glass in his hand and smelled its alluring aroma. It was the good stuff alright, which was a surprise considering the Hanged Man's best usually looked and smelled like watered down piss. This must have been from one of Varric's private stores.

"Seeing as I haven't had a good Fereldan whiskey in ages, I might as well enjoy it. And what better way to enjoy a Fereldan whiskey than by giving a Fereldan toast." Hawke rose from his seat and cleared his throat. "To Ferelden! May her children find peace and her warriors know victory!"

"To Ferelden!" The fellow patron all called, raising their glasses.

"Fuck Ferelden, and all itsh shit-eating dog-lordsh!" Yelled a drunken angry voice.

"There's always _someone_ around to ruin a perfectly good toast." Isabela sighed disappointedly.

Hawke saw the malcontent, a young man with blonde hair and a bottle of hard liquor clenched tightly in his fist. He drunkenly made his way over to the Champion's table, spilling his drink as he went.

"Wh-who do you Fereldan turnipsh think you are, huh?!" The young man slurred lividly. Had to be younger than Bethany. "You come where you're not wanted, shit on everything like you own the plashe, and think jusht 'caushe you got lucky with the Blight ush native-born Marchersh got move ashide for you. Thish ishn't your fuck shity!"

Hawke couldn't tell if this guy's face was red from the bottle he was drinking or how angry he was. His breath reeked to high heaven, and he was standing way too close for Hawke to be comfortable.

"You're drunk, kid. Why don't you go sleep it off somewhere and try dealing whatever issues you have with my countrymen when you're sober." Hawke suggested peacefully, trying to still enjoy his drink. He didn't want to deal with someone else's bull on a day like this.

"Shnubbing me off? Think you're too good to lishen to the likesh of me!? My name ain't kid! Name'sh Randall Ainsworth, and when I talk, you lishen!" The drunk young man ranted. Isabela and Varric both snickered at his funny sounding name, while Hawke just tried to ignore him. "My family'sh been livin' here for generations, and ever since all you Fereldan trash washed up here, being a native born Marcher hash meant nothing! You people leech off our city diminish our pride, then you expect ush to feel shorry for you just because your own stinking country got burned by the darkspawn. The Blight was too good for you fucking turnips!"

"I asked you, now I'm telling you: get away from, or I'm going take more than what little pride you've got." The Champion warned, flashing this Randall a dangerous glare. After what the Blight did to his family, he would not let anyone talk like that to him.

"You're the worsht of them all! It makesh me sick that they made shomeone like you Champion!" Randall shouted angrily. "Everyone knowsh you were collaborating with the fucking Qunari, probably helped them plan to attack Kirkwall. But then you turn around and kill the Arishok, and now we're all supposed to kiss the ground you walk on, while real Kirkwall citizens got nothing!"

"Ignore him, Hawke." Varric suggested. "This guys got more booze than brains swimming in his head."

"Just another drunk trying to act like a big asshole to hide the fact that he's a little prick." Isabela scoffed mockingly.

"But you're gonna see, all o' you are gonna see!" Randall continued furiously, chugging down more of his drink. "You and every Fereldan shit at that rally are gonna get what's coming to you, and there'sh nothing you or that fucking Hero can do about it."

That last drunken sentence that slurred out of his mouth caught all three of their attention.

"What did you just say?" Hawke demanded.

"Yeah, that'sh right. All you Fereldan shits are gonna get what'sh coming to you!" Randall's drunken anger was finally turning into drunken glee. "You're all gonna learn thish shity doesn't belong to you. When that rally starts, we're gonna turn it into a bloodbath!"

Randall lifted his bottle of whiskey back to his lips, only to be turned around forcefully and end up kissing the receiving end of the Champion's fist. Randall went out like a light.

Hawke slung the drunk racist over his shoulder and looked over to companions seriously. "Varric, get everyone else over here now, and have Aveline post more in Lowtown. We need to find out if this guy is serious or if it's just the booze and his poor character talking."

Isabela and Varric left quickly to do what they were asked while Hawke went to go secure Randall in Varric's room. Bigotry and xenophobia was a major part of life in the Free Marches, and Kirkwall was especially famous for it. There was not a doubt in Hawke's mind that Randall was probably telling the truth. Hawke needed to learn more.

**~XoXoXo~**

Not long, Hawke and his companions were gathered in the Hanged Man's back room stores with the Randall passed out and tied down to a chair. They needed to get information out of him, and the proprietor of the tavern knew better than to bother these particular patrons. Without time to waste, Anders pulled out a special concoction he reserved for waking patients up when they passed out from extreme pain. It worked especially well on people who were stone drunk, as Isabela had made use of this potion to cure hangovers.

Aveline and Fenris grabbed Randall's unconscious head and forced his mouth open, while Anders poured the medicine down his throat. Randall's eyes shot open and he started yelling and spitting like he just had raw sewage and molten lead poured down his throat.

"Ha! Works every time." Anders complimented himself, putting the vile back in his traveling kit.

"What was that!? Where am I?! What the fuck's going on?!" Randall demanded furiously and very sober.

"That was to wake you up, you're in the back rooms of the Hanged Man. And right now, you're going to tell us exactly what you were talking about." Hawke answered seriously. "What did you mean when you said that the Fereldan rally was going to turn into a bloodbath?"

"Exactly what I said, you stupid Fereldan mongrel!" Randall laughed spitefully.

"If you don't tell exactly what's going on, I'll have you arrested and tried as an accessory to anything that might happen out there!" Aveline threatened.

"You think I'm scared of some Fereldan ginger?" Randall mocked. "You think just because you strut around in a Kirkwall uniform that that makes you one of us? Fuck you, and your Orlesian name! I'm not afraid to go down for what I believe."

"This belief of yours can only lead you to more pain and destruction." Sebastian reached out.

"Bah! I got nothing to say to some Starkhaven prince." Randall scoffed. "You don't know what it's like for the rest of us who live here in the real world!"

"Whatever you're thinking, whatever problems you might have with my countrymen or anyone else, what you're talking about won't honor Kirkwall." Hawke implored, hoping to reason with the young man. "All it will do is cause more blood and bring even more disgrace to the city you claim to love."

"Please, listen to Hawke." Merrill pleaded. "There's no reason for anyone to get hurt. If whatever you're saying is true, then please, do the right thing."

"Oh, go fuck yourself!" Randall rejected in disgust. He looked at Hawke with utter contempt in his eyes. "Who do you think you are trying to judge me?! You cover for an apostates, undermine the sacred laws of the Chantry, and go whoring with heathen elves and pirate sluts, think you have the right to tell me what right and honor is? It makes me sick that they made someone like you Champion!"

That last sentence stepped on Hawke's last nerve. Insulting him was one thing, but no one, absolutely no one, insults his women to his face and gets away with it. Hawke looked over to Fenris, the look in his eyes spoke loudly. "That's it. I'm done being nice. We'll do this your way, Randall. Fenris?"

"It's about time." Fenris' lyrium tattoos lit with energy, their magic coursing through his veins, and he magically plunged his gauntleted hand in the mouthy bigot's chest. "I'm tempted to just rip your tongue out, but we still need to talk. So tell us what we want to know, and the pain stops."

Randall gasped and groaned in agony, the elf's hand was gripping his heart while it was still inside his chest. The pain was unbearable, but he must endure. After a minute of squirming his hand inside Randall's chest cavity, Fenris stopped and gave him a moment to comply.

"Argh! This...this is nothing!" Randall groaned in pain. "There's nothing you can do. That war mongering filth you all call a Hero is going to get what's coming to him, and there's not a damned thing you can do about it, Champion! And I'd rather die than betray the cause..."

Randall stuck his tongue out between his teeth and bit down hard. His insolent tongue fell to the ground with a wet splat, and everyone gasped and yelled in horror as blood spurted out of Randall's foul mouth. He chocked on his own blood and finally bled to death. Randall's suicide was agony, but he died with a smile on his face.

"Holy shit, that was grisly." Varric said in shock.

"How...how could he just throw his life away like that?" Anders gasped.

"O Holy Maker, please have mercy on this man's misguided soul." Sebastin prayed.

"We wouldn't have hurt him!" Merrill cried, unable to understand why he did that.

"It would seem this city has endless supply of bigots and zealots." Fenris scoffed with disdain.

"Is it odd or disturbing that this is actually one of the least horrible things I've seen in this city?" Isabela asked indifferently.

Aveline looked to Hawke, deeply concerned. "Hawke, if he was willing to die so the he could not tell us anything, then the threat he made is definitely real."

"I know. He kept mentioning a cause, and it sounded like he was working with multiple people." Hawke reasoned. "And if what he said was true, then that means something is going to happen during the rally."

"Then shouldn't we stop the rally?" Merrill asked.

"No. If we do that, and word gets out that someone's going to attack, there'll be massive hysteria." Aveline answered. "Everyone one will panic and try to get out of Lowtown, like a stampede, and many will be injured, or make the attack easier. I don't have enough men to handle a riot like that."

"He mentioned the Hero of Ferelden more than once, said that he was going to get what 's coming to him." Hawke reminded. He took a moment to piece together what information he did get between Randall's drunken ravings and racist rhetoric. And then it hit him. "Someone's going to try and assassinate Aedan Cousland."

That realization shocked everyone like lightning from a mage's staff.

"Assassinate a powerful military leader? Such an act could bring Ferelden's army straight to our doorstep!" Aveline said worriedly.

"They'd be foolish to try." Anders spoke out. "Some of the best assassin's in Thedas have failed to pull that off."

"You willing to bet Kirkwall's safety on that, Blondie?" Varric asked rhetorically.

"Oh, Mythal'enaste, this is aweful!" Merrill lamented. "Shouldn't we warn the Hero, then?"

"I doubt it would do much good." Isabela answered. "I met the man back in Ferelden, and trust me, after traveling this far to bring his people home, he's not going to back down to a few assassins. Besides, even if we did tell him, he'd probably just dare them to try."

"Mages and Templars are already making this city difficult to live in." Sebastian stated. "If the Hero of Ferelden were to be killed here, it would have devastating results."

"We need to stop this now, but we must hurry. The rally is starting." Hawke ordered. He needed to remain calm and stay focused if they were going to even have a chance at stopping this. "Everyone, head out to the rally and look for anything and anyone who might be out of place. Faces we might recognize, someone acting strange, but keep be as discreet as possible. If we start screaming that there's an assassin out there, it could cause a riot, and we might end up doing these assassins' job for them."

"Alright, Hawke. And I'll get someone to take care of the body." Varric affirmed. "No point in leaving him here for some poor idiot to find."

"Bring him to the Chantry." Sebastian requested. "I'll be sure to pray for his misguided soul."

**~XoXoXo~**

Everyone made their way out of the Hanged Man, and were distraught to see how crowded Lowtown was now. It was filled with an ocean of people, packed tightly within the confines of the districts walls like a can of sardines. Their voices carried and echoed like an unharmonious choir, making it difficult to hear themselves. It was going to be impossible to find this assassin, or multiple assassins.

Anders, Isabela and Fenris waded through the crowd trying to search for anyone who looked like they might be trying to kill the visiting Hero. Aveline coordinated her men around the stage. She was loathed to put her men in direct danger, but there duty was clear. Sebastian and Merrill went to different parts around the crowd hoping to spot any signs of sabotage.

This was hopeless. Noon was fast approaching, and their were no closer to finding this assassin or assassins. Hawke needed a different approach. Hawke remembered an old hunting trick his father taught him when he was young: to find your quarry, try thinking like it, and find what it wants. Hawke looked around and knew it would be impossible for an assassin to make his way through the crowd armed and go unnoticed. Even if he did make it past the crowd, there was no way he could get to Aedan before going through his or Aveline's men first. There was only one place an assassin could make his move: from above. On the roofs, overlooking the crowd all pinched together in a box-pike environment and nothing getting in his line of sights; it's a perfect pspot for a killer to hit his target.

There was no time to lose. Hawke shimmied up a nearby scaffolding and made his way to the roofs overlooking the market. There were no crowds up here, there wasn't a soul up here. Hawke scanned the area, looking for anyone who might be posing a threat. Then he found something. A single man wearing light leather armor, carrying a sword unsheathed. His eyes were fixated on the Hero of Ferelden as he prepared to take the stage. Hawke needed to be calm.

"Enjoying the scenery, serrah?" Hawke called over.

The man looked back over to Hawke, quite startled. Maker, he was young. Couldn't have been older than Carver when he died. Just the same age as Randall. He was too young to even be carrying a sword like this.

"Sweet Andraste! You scared me!" The youth said alarmed.

"Sorry about that. So...you enjoying the view?"

"Uh, yeah, I wanted to catch a good view of the Hero of Ferelden, you know?" The young man answered. "So many people down there, it was impossible to see him. Hey, you're the Champion, right?"

"Yes, I am. Pleasure to meet you. What's your name?" Hawke asked politely.

"Garth." The kid answered.

Hawke needed to keep things calm, so far so good. "Listen, Garth, maybe you want to come down from here. If you really want to meet the Hero of Ferelden, I could introduce you to him. He's an acquaintance of mine."

"Yeah, I'll bet. Heroes and Champions from Ferelden, such a small circle, you guys must know each other." Garth chuckled. "But you know, I kinda like where I'm at right now. I've been waiting a while to see this speech, and I'd hate to lose such a nice spot."

Hawke sighed despondently. "Garth, I'm going to have to insist. You _must_ to get down from here."

"Why? Do I really look like a problem?" Garth asked confused.

"Actually, you look like one of Randall's friends." Hawke answered seriously.

At the sound of that name, Garth's innocent façade washed away like wet paint from a wall. He drew that sword hanging from his hip, and held a very competent sword stance. "You got Randall? Well, I won't be so easy to take down, dog-lord!"

Hawke drew the Key Sword from his hip and held it in a defensive pose. "Garth, think carefully. I don't want to hurt you."

"Yeah? Well, _I_ really, _REALLY_, want to hurt you!" Garth lunged at with his sword with outstanding form and speed.

**~XoXoXo~**

Aveline hoped that Hawke or the others had found the assassin, or even what was going on. There was now way she could stall this. All these people here, if a panic were to happen, it would be like a stampede through a straw house. Innocent people would be harmed and this whole district could be demolished. She felt like she might have an anxiety attack right now. Trying to stop crime was her stock in trade, but know that there's a threat coming and being powerless to stop it was almost too much for anyone to bear. Maker, Lord Cousland was about to make his speech.

The crowd went silent with awe and admiration as the famed Hero of Ferelden approached the podium. So many of them never imagined they would have the honor of ever seeing their country's greatest hero in the flesh, and now here he was.

"Sons and daughters of Ferelden, my brothers and sisters. I am honored to stand here before you." Aedan spoke in a voice so clear and strong, it echoed throughout Lowtown. "I know many of you have suffered. During the Blight, many of you lost your homes, your families, everything you cared about. You came to the Free Marches to escape the Blight, only to be trapped here. I know life has been difficult for you here. Many of you couldn't find work, support your families, or even return home. This neglect shames me. King Alistair and I fought the Blight to protect our people, and we could do nothing for you. But that changes now."

A wave of hope swept through the ocean of people and sense of pride filled them at hearing Aedan's words.

"Your king and country has not forgotten you. I have come to give you the chance to finally return home, where we belong." So many gasps and sounds of joy erupted through the crowd at this promise. "It will be difficult, I will not lie. Ferelden is still recovering from the aftereffects of the Fifth Blight and civil war. There is still rebuilding to be done, problems to solve, but if you choose to return home with me, then I promise you, we will do whatever in our power to help you rebuild what you lost. Your lands will be returned, and we will help you find work in the Bannorn and the cities where crops still need to be sewn and our building rebuilt."

Aveline was moved by Aedan's words. She did not realize the extent of his purpose here. Nor did she realize that he or King Alistair cared so much for their people that they would do so much to bring them home. If only more nobles and leaders were like that, the world would be better for it. Aveline felt a slight twinge of nostalgia, a desire to see the land she had called home almost her whole life. But she would not leave. Kirkwall was her home now. She built a life, found a new husband who she loved so much. She found her place here, where so many others did not. Perhaps this would help all the refugees find the life that was taken from them.

The Guard-Captain pushed the emotional thoughts and feelings aside, she needed to remain focused. If there was ever a time an assassin to make his move, it would be now. With Lord Cousland so far into his speech, perhaps Hawke or one of the others had found the perpetrator. Maker, she hoped they did.

**~XoXoXo~**

Hawke blocked and parried Garth's competent attacks. Obviously, he was not as green as Hawke expected him to be. Someone had been trained Garth to use the sword effectively. Each strike was fast and full of force, trying so hard to stick Hawke and make him bleed out. Hawke was actually impressed, but he had been fighting almost his entire adult life, and faced things far worse than this uppity child. Hawke had far more experience in combat, and knew that there was more to winning a fight than just knowing how to swing your weapon. In Garth's youthful zeal and desire to kill, he had forgotten to pay attention to his surroundings.

Garth lunged at Hawke with full force, seeking to impale the Champion on the end of his sword. All his momentum was going forward, and Garth didn't notice the loose roofing tiles that were lying there, but Hawke did. Hawke deflected the attack and sidestepped to the right and let Garth hurdle passed him. The would-be killer tripped on the loose tiles and fell flat on his back on the lower roof below him. The wind was knocked out of him and he was now seeing stars, but he still tried to reach for his sword.

Hawke stomped his boot on Garth's wrist and felt the bones break under his heel, effectively stopping the kid from reaching his sword. Garth's pained screams were drowned out by the cheering people below as the Hero of Ferelden continued his speech.

"It's over, boy. You're not going to kill Aedan Cousland." Hawke said contemptuously, and held his sword to Garth's neck. "Now tell me: why are you doing this."

Garth laughed forcefully through the pain of having his wrist broken by Hawke. "Randall didn't tell you shit, did he!? You stupid fucking dog-lords, always chasing your fucking tales!"

Hawke applied more pressure to Garth's shattered wrist bones, turning his laughter into painful groans. "Why are you trying to kill Aedan Cousland?"

"Kill him?" Garth gritted through his teeth. "Whoever said I was here to kill him? Didn't you hear me, Champion? I was just up here to get a good view. Of him and all your fellow Fereldan shits getting what they deserve!"

Realization hit Hawke like a blade between his ribs. How could he have been so wrong. He needed to get down there, warn the Hero. But first, he knocked out this mouthy little shit with a solid punch to the face. He prayed to Andraste he wasn't too late. These bigots weren't after Aedan, they were after everyone at the rally!

**~XoXoXo~**

Anders wasn't sure what was scaring him more at the moment, the fact that he was looking for an assassin who was stupid or crazy enough to try and kill Aedan Cousland, or the fact that Aedan Cousland would probably kill him if he knew Anders was in the crowd. He couldn't think about that right now. He needed to stay focused. Needed to find anything that might indicate an attack, or was even out of place.

Then, just like that, Anders spotted someone totally out of place. Not a killer like he was looking for, but just as disturbing. "Sean? Sean, is that you?"

The missing husband and father was staggering through the crowd like he was hurt, clutching his chest like someone stabbed him there. Anders had to get to him.

"Sean! It's me, Anders, from the clinic. You're wife's been searching for you!" Anders shouted over the throes of all the voices cheering Aedan's speech. He tried to make his way to Sean, but all these people were making it so difficult. He watched from twenty yards away as Sean fell to his knees, crying in agony as he clutched his chest. How hurt was he? "SEAN!"

"Forgive me..." Sean's last words escaped his lips tearfully, and his last thought was of his wife, Ella and their children, before his world erupted into a ball of fire.

**~XoXoXo~**

Cheers turned into screams, and joy turned into flames while Sean's entire body exploded like a dozen kegs of black powder. People and debris flew everywhere, and everyone around Sean was instantly incinerated where they stood. Anders survived by placing a protective barrier up at the last second. Hawke watched helplessly from the scaffoldings. He tried but he failed. In the end, Randall died getting the last laugh: the rally had turned into a bloodbath, and there was nothing Hawke could do about it.

**~Author's Note~**

**Okay, first thing's first. I know I said in my last chapter that it would take me maybe two weeks to post this chapter, and now here we are almost a month later. ****Things got super busy for me right after my last chapter, and I had a hard time trying to finish this chapter and do those extensions I promised. So, sorry about that. I haven't released the extended versions yet, but I have every intention of doing so. I will leave a post when I have done that, and which chapters they are.**

**In the meantime, I hope you enjoy my latest chapter. Please review and give me your thoughts.**

**And to the reader who bumped into my brother at Barnes &amp; Noble two weeks ago, I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well. It's good to know I've got some fans who are local.**

**Sincerely,**

_**Powerslammer.**_


	41. The Untold Chapters: Part III

**The Untold Chapters: Part III**

Kirkwall, the City of Chains. This Free Marcher city state earned it's endearing epitaph from the fact that it was once the heart of the Tevinter slave trade during the height of the Imperium's power. Even today, Kirkwall had a terrible reputation, and it was a wonder that anyone wished to live there. This city was the breeding grounds for criminal organizations, corruption, Qunari invasions, and most recently, being a tightly held Templar police state.

Aedan had come to this foul-smelling armpit of the Free Marches with the intent of bringing his misplaced countrymen back home. Then, right in the middle of his speech, a bomb, or something like it, exploded right in the center of the gathered crowd. What started off as a peaceful rally quickly turned into a sea of blood, screams and confusion. Aedan was going to murder whoever was behind this assault, but first, he had to help the injured.

The entire Lowtown Market District turned into a field of screams, terror and pain. The one's closest to the blast were lucky enough to have been killed instantly, while dozens more had been injured, killed and maimed. Cries of agony and fear filled the air and blood soaked the ground as the survivors scrambled to help the victims or get the hell out of there. Guilt stabbed at Hawke like a knife in his chest. He couldn't help but believe that this was his fault. He tried to stop an assassination, but failed to realize it was a terrorist attack, and now so many people were dead and injured because he failed them. Hawke had to push it out of his mind; now was not the time for feeling guilty. Aveline had taken Garth under arrest, Hawke would help these people first, then find out how Garth did this.

"Bevin! Bring me a tourniquet! Help me stop the bleeding!" Aedan ordered, desperately applying pressure to a man's severed arm.

Bevin, Amethyne and the rest of the Silver Knights did their best to help their injured countrymen who were caught in the blast. Aveline brought in her guardsmen and any supplies they could bring to try and help, but it was difficult. All of them were trained for war and combat, none of them were healers.

Hawke did his best to keep himself from panicking or letting this disaster take control of him. It was so much like when the Blight destroyed Ostagar and Lothering. So many good people killed by a destructive force, and many more begging for help. This time, there was no running away. This was his home, and these were his people. He would do everything he could for them. The Champion had brought some healing poultices from his personal stores to try and help the maimed and wounded. They were of extremely high quality, and would work as well as magic. Lady Elegant was able to get her husband to bring in as many aid kits, while many of the merchants of this district tried to help as best they could.

Aedan and his men did what they could, but they were soldiers, not healers, and their skill in this matter was limited. Aedan was more than accustomed to the sight of blood and the sounds of people dying, but that was when he was inflicting death on people, not preventing it. He was outside his element, and trying to sew a man's guts back into his body was something he never prepared for. He didn't know how to save lives, only end them. Then his blue eyes caught sight of a certain blonde mage whose very presence pissed him off, but he now had a use for him.

Anders felt the Hero of Ferelden glowering at him, and wasn't sure if he should stay and help or tuck tail and run.

"Anders! You wanna redeem yourself in my eyes? Help my mage with the injured!" Aedan ordered, just like he used to back in Amaranthine. "Petra, you've got some help now."

Anders did what he was asked, both to heal this poor man's butchered body, and because he was afraid of what Aedan might do if he didn't. He focused his mana into a simple but strong spell. He had to close the wound and reattach all the fibers of flesh and sinew together, otherwise the wound might open up again.

Both Anders and Merrill used their magic to heal as many as they could, but it was futile. There were just too many people injured in the blast for them to help them all. At this rate, there would be far more dead than injured.

Garret noticed the sound of many footsteps walking down the pathway stairs from Hightown down here. He looked over and saw Grand Cleric Elthina's entourage, and it looked like they were bringing more healing supplies. More than that, she was accompanied by an entourage of Mages and Templars, and they weren't trying to kill each other. Thank the Maker. Sebastian, the Chantry sisters and the mages instantly set to work to bringing as much relief and help as possible. They might just save even more from dying.

"Champion. I came as quickly as I could when I heard what happened." Elthina addressed worriedly. "I cannot believe anyone would do such a thing, and to so many peaceful people."

"I can." Hawke said satirically. "Hate crimes are all too common in this city, they just have been big enough for anyone to notice, or care enough." In the back of Hawke's mind, he was disappointed and infuriated that this is what it took to get everyone's attention about all the things going wrong in this city. It seemed like the only way for people to work together was if there was a Blight or great catastrophe going on, or until they messed everything up enough, like these tension between Mages and Templars.

"I brought as many healing supplies as I could, I pray this will help these poor souls." Elthina said with genuine concern and care.

"I'm sure every soul here is indebted to you." Sebastian praised thankfully. "And you were even able to get the mages and Templars to work together towards a common goal, as they should. Maker bless all that you're doing."

"Fuck the Maker!" Aedan barked viciously. "If he actually gave a shit about what's going on right now, he'd have stopped this from happening!"

Elthina sighed sadly. She had already knew this young man had so much anger, and this incident certainly did not endear him to the Maker. "Hero, I understand that you are angry, but this is..."

"Shut up, old woman! This has nothing to do with you or your wretched god!" Aedan interrupted furiously. "What I want to know is what the fuck just happened!? This was supposed to be a peaceful event, and then some asshole turned it into a goddamn shit-storm! Now, I want some fucking answers, and I want them _now_!"

This was Hawke's burden. He failed to stop the attack, therefore he was responsible, and would bare the news to the visiting Hero. "It was my fault. I found out someone was going to attack your summit. I found the attacker and took him down. I thought I stopped him, but I was so wrong."

"What do you mean?"

"He wasn't there to carry out the attack, but to make sure that the actual attacker fulfilled his mission." Hawke answered shamefully. "My mistake cost these people their lives."

"Where is this collaborating piece of shit now?" Aedan demanded.

"We have him in a holding cell, and we're going to interrogate him for answers as soon as I get back there." Aveline answered firmly.

"Give him to me, I'll get the answers I want out of him!" Aedan demanded threateningly.

"Excuse me?" Aveline asked. That was a demand she had never heard before

"You heard me!" Aedan growled like a rabid animal. "This piece of shit, I want him. Anyone he conspired with, I want them. And I'm going to show them just what it means to fuck with Ferelden. Give them to me, or I will take them myself!"

Varric didn't envy Aveline's position right now, less so than normal. If he were in her position right now, Varric would have given the Hero what he wanted, then run away as fast as he could, but that wasn't Aveline's style. She stood her ground, and wasn't going to be pushed around in her own city.

"I'm sorry, but that's not going to happen." Aveline rejected defiantly. "I understand how you feel, but I cannot allow to just go around kill people at your own whim. There are laws we must adhere to."

"What you allow, Guard-Captain, isn't my concern. And if this attack is any indication, your laws, and your ability to reinforce them are meaningless!" Aedan rebutted heatedly. "I do not make idle threats, only severe promises. If you won't hand him over to me, I will take him from you and trample any sorry bastard who get in my way!"

Hawke stepped in to back up his friend. While he shared Aedan's anger, he knew that this was not the way to resolve this problem. "Aveline's right, Aedan. You cannot just go around taking justice into your hands. If anything, the people here need to see that the law is capable of protecting them, otherwise we they won't trust us, and we'll have nothing but chaos."

"Chaos?! Look around you, Sergeant, chaos is all around us!" Aedan shouted, his eyes burning red with rage. "You've already stood in my way once, I will not tolerate it again. If you stand in my way, I'll make you move!"

Hawke returned Aedan's angry glare and stood up to him. He would not be threatened by anyone. "I don't move for anyone. Especially not in my own city. But you're welcome to try and see how far you get."

Once again, Varric felt that odd sensation of fear and excitement crawl up his spine like a spider. Seeing these two powerful, famous warriors squaring off with each other, neither one of them willing to bend or back down to the other. Varric was no professor, but even he knew that when an unstoppable force met an immovable object, everything else gets destroyed. This recent explosion would be nothing compared to the crater that used to be a city if these two actually fought.

The tension was felt by everyone within the immediate vicinity of the Champion and the Hero. Sebastian urged the Grand Cleric behind him while Anders made sure none of the injured would be caught in the middle. Aveline and her men stood ready, though the fear in her guards' eyes was obvious. Fenris' hand rested on his greatsword, while Merrill and Isabela were ready to leap to their lover's defense at the drop of a hat with magic and steel. Aedan's squires, Bevin and Amythene, and all his knights stood ready for a fight with their hands reaching for their weapons, and none would hesitate for a moment to spill blood for their commander.

Varric wished there was something that could resolve this, but right now, it looked like the only way this was going to end was in blood.

"Brother?" Said a warm, welcoming voice that was so familiar to them all. Bethany came running up to her beloved brother and embraced him happily. It had been far too long since she could hug another member of her family without being locked behind walls. "When I heard about what happened, I was so worried. But of course you're alright, you always are."

All concerns for the Hero's threats left Hawke's mind and he returned his sister's hug. He wished it didn't take some sort of crisis to be reunited with his sister. And as if by some miracle, the rage that possessed Aedan's eyes melted away and were replaced by a strange sense of familiarity at the sight of the younger Hawke sibling.

"What are you doing here, Bethany?" Hawke asked happily.

"I'm on the mages the Grand Cleric called for to help tend to the injured."

"It's you...Bethany?" Aedan recalled in disbelief.

Bethany turned her attention to the man who just now was threatening her brother and shared his shock and disbelief. "You? Ser Aedan? You're the Hero of Ferelden? I...heard your name said many times, but I didn't think you were the same person. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. After all, they did say the Hero of Ferelden passed through Lothering after the battle of Ostagar."

Now it was Hawke's turn to be surprised. "You...know this man, Bethany?"

"Yes. Before you and Carver got back from Ostagar, this man saved me from the bandits who were preying on refugees." Bethany remembered vividly. "He even escorted me home to Mother, and she thanked him for what he did."

Realization came over of Aedan like a blanket, and all traces of his anger disappeared. "Then...you...you're Leandra's son, and your father's name was Malcolm."

"How do you know that?" Hawke asked. How could the Hero have known that?

Aedan motioned his men to stand down, and everyone felt like they could breathe easy now.

"So be it." Aedan sighed, feeling genuine shame for his actions. "We'll do this your way, Sergeant. I won't interfere with your methods."

That surprised everyone, especially Hawke. Not even a minute ago, the Hero of Ferelden was ready to kill all of them just to take their prime suspect. Now, after all that drama, Aedan Cousland, the most warlike dog-lord alive, was willing to back off?

"I don't understand." Hawke stated confused. "A moment ago, you were willing to start a fight for getting in your way, now you're willing to just stand down? Why? What does this have to do with my mother and sister?"

"I owe your mother a great debt." Aedan answered softly. "She...gave me the power I needed to save our country. So, in honor of your mother, and what she did for our country, I will yield to your authority on this matter. I will not interfere with your investigation." Aedan turned away from the Champion, all traces of his anger gone, and resumed his duties to tending to the wounded.

Hawke was left in a state of confusion. What did the Hero of Ferelden mean? Hawke had met the Hero years ago back at Ostagar before the darkspawn slew King Cailan, but he never knew his family was acquainted with him. Just what did his mother do for him? And why didn't he hear about this until now?

"Bethany? How come you never told me about any of this?" Hawke asked deeply vexed.

"Well, with everything that happened at the time, it slipped my mind." Bethany answered honestly. "And besides, and didn't even know he was a Grey Warden, or that the two of you had even met."

"Ahem. Now that we've got this little issue resolved, maybe we want to deal with the matter at hand?" Aveline insisted urgently. "Time is a desperate factor here."

"Would you like to come with us, Bethany? We could use you on a mission like this?" Hawke asked hopefully. At this point, he would use any excuse to get his sister out of the Gallows.

"I'm afraid that's not possible, Champion. Your sister and all these mages are to return to the Gallows immediately after they are done helping here." Answered the civil but unwelcome voice of a certain Templar that made Hawke even angrier than when Aedan threatened him. Cullen could sense the enmity from Hawke, but made the effort to remain respectful.

"Cullen. I thought I smelled hypocrisy. Must have been Meredith rubbing off on you." Hawke said disrespectfully. "What're you doing here?"

Cullen did his best to ignore the Champion remarks and remain civil. "I'm a part of the detail assigned to escort these mages while they're in the city."

"And, of course, Meredith can't let these mages go anywhere without any oversight." Hawke said with contempt. "Maker forbid that any mage be allowed to use their gifts freely to help anyone...!"

Bethany placed her hand on her brother's arm in an attempt to calm his anger on her behalf. "Garret, please. This isn't the time or place."

"You're sister has a point, Sergeant. You have a mission to carry out." Aedan reminded.

A sense of shock erupted in Cullen's eyes, and he straightened himself out and stood at attention as though he were about to inspected by a superior officer. He even began to stammer nervously over his words like he was some wet-nosed recruit instead of Meredith's Knight-Captain.

"Lord Cousland. It-it's a t-tremendous honor to meet you again, Ser." Cullen saluted respectfully.

Aedan quirked a quizzical eyebrow at the stuttering blonde man in a skirt in front of him like he was a walking freakshow. "I'm sorry, who're you?"

"M-my name is Cullen Rutherford. I was one of the Templars you rescued back in Kinloch hole, when the Circle was taken overrun by demons." Cullen reminded enthusiastically.

"Really? I don't remember." Aedan dismissed uninterested.

"Well, _I_ remember you. I couldn't forget that moment." Cullen continued. "You saved me from Uldred's insanity. I would be dead or insane if it weren't for you. I...never did properly thank you for what you did."

"That's nice." Aedan said with sarcastic disinterest. "Imagine what the life of a Templar means to me. Short answer: not a damned thing. Now, if you're done wasting my time, I've got better things to do than listen to you bump you gums."

Aedan turned his back on Cullen, leaving the Templar in a stunned stat. Cullen wondered what he did to offend the Hero of Ferelden before shortly remembering that in this day and age, Templars did not have the same respect they were due for the duties they performed. He thought that, perhaps, the Hero of Ferelden might have understood that burden, but it appeared that wasn't the case. Cullen supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. After all, it was a widely known fact that the Hero of Ferelden was involved with a raven-haired apostate during the Blight, and that, no doubt, set him against the standards of the Chantry.

"Amythene, Bevin, I want you to do everything you can for these people. Whatever it takes." Aedan ordered his squires. "Use our stores and supplies if you need to."

"Understood, Commander." Bevin saluted.

"We'll do whatever it takes." Amethyne assured.

"Petra, I want you to assist the injured, use whatever spells you deem necessary, but save as many of these people as you can. And if any of these Templars are stupid enough to interfere, tell them who's got you back."

Petra nodded her head in acknowledgment. "I'll set to it immediately, Commander. The healing, not the threatening."

**~XoXoXo~**

Merrill and Anders continued to use their magic to provide healing to the injured. Their considerable skill, combined with the mages Elthina brought, they were able to save many of the injured, but sadly, there were still more dead. Despite the circumstances, this is what Anders wished to see: mages being allowed to walk in the world, to practice their magic for the betterment of others, instead of being locked away like criminals as if their being born with magic was a crime. But the presence of the Templars watching them with their suspecting, hateful eyes reminded Anders that this was merely a temporary thing. Just as like anything else, when they were done here, the Templars would corral them back into the cages at the Circle and forget any good they have done, and resume their abuse. Anders wished that the world could see the good mages could do, what they could accomplish without having to be shoved into a Circle like prisoners, but that would never happen so long as people like Meredith remained.

The former Grey Warden went over to assist the mage under Aedan's command. She was trying to heal a man who lost his left eye and arm in the explosion, and looked like she could use some assistance. While helping her with the healing, Anders unintentionally looked at the younger mage with a quizzical look on his face. As if she were familiar to him. She was a bit younger than he was, and very lovely to look at. With gentle brown eyes, auburn hair held in a ponytail, and smooth features, it was a wonder she wasn't married. "I remember you...from the Circle in Ferelden. You were Wynn's apprentice!"

"Yes. And I remember you, as well." Petra replied, a look of dislike on her face pointed right at Anders. "Every mage back in the Fereldan Circle remembers you, and how every time you escaped, the rest of us, who actually liked the Circle, had to pay for it. Thanks for that, by the way."

"What can I say, Circle life isn't for everyone." Anders defended nonchalantly. "You should know that, if you're serving with the Hero of Ferelden. How did something like that happen?"

"It wasn't very complicated or eventful, if that's what you're thinking. Not all encounters or recruitments are made in life threatening situations or by chance." Petra rebutted. "The Commander needed a healer to serve in the Silver Order, and he remembered that I was one of Wynne's students when he saved the Circle. He asked me to join, and couldn't turn down such an opportunity. Wynne gave it her all, and as her student, I felt I should do the same."

"Well, it's good to see other mages putting their talents to good use." Anders complimented genuinely.

"And speaking of putting talents to good use, maybe you should stop talking and get back to helping." Petra suggested. Anders took the hint and resumed what he was supposed to be doing.

**~XoXoXo~**

Aveline refused to take her eyes of the Hero of Ferelden. She was still more than a little bit put off by what his actions back in Lowtown. Aveline had heard the stories surrounding Aedan Couslands reputation, but she thought they were mostly embellishments, like the bullshit Varric tells to the drunks at the Hanged Man. But seeing what he was like back in Lowtown made her wonder if the stories were actually true. Who better to ask than someone whose actually worked alongside the Hero of Ferelden?

"Anders, you served directly under Aedan, yes?" Aveline asked curiously.

"I believe that's been established an established fact for years now, Guard-Captain." Anders shrugged.

"Well, I was merely wondering...are the stories they say about him true?"

"And which stories might that be, Aveline?" Anders chuckled. "They say a lot of things about the Hero of Ferelden, and even I still have a hard time believing them."

"You know. That he's..." Aveline looked over to Aedan to make sure he wasn't listening while shielded her mouth from him and lowered her voice to a whisper. "That he's...a cannibal?"

Anders shuddered like a ghost just passed him at the question and swallowed a fearful lump in his throat. Thinking about those days still gave him the shivers. "I...cannot say if those rumors are true or not. But I will say this: Aedan Cousland is the most fearsome, savage, and merciless warlord to ever come out of Ferelden. The things I saw him do when I served under him still give me nightmares, and I was only with him for a short time. I have no idea what he did during the Blight."

The memory of Anders almost being strangled to death in Aedan's merciless grip was still fresh in their minds. The only reason why Anders wasn't dead with his neck snapped like a chicken bone, was because Hawke stopped him, and declared Aedan's actions as dishonorable.

"I was in Denerim during the Blight when he arrived there." Isabella recalled. "To see how Loghain and Howe's men reacted just from saying his name, you'd think the man was the Archdemon. I've known pirates who've raided for decades and never got that kind of respect."

"Oh, he can't be all that bad." Merrill said sympathetically. "You saw all those people who came to see him in Lowtown, there must be something good about him. They call him Hero after all."

"I'm afraid I must agree with Merrill." Sebastian spoke out. Which surprised everyone considering how much Aedan detested the Chantry. "Rumors are always worse than what they truly are. I don't think anyone is as evil as other people claim."

"All rumors, no matter how far fetched, have some truth to them. After all, they need to start somewhere." Fenris said in his usual morose tone. "You don't get to be as powerful as he is without stepping on others along the way."

"It's weird. I always pictured the Hero of Ferelden carrying a valiant sword." Varric expressed somewhat disappointed. "You know, something gallant and heroic-looking, something that could inspire whole armies to follow him just by looking at the sun reflect off its blade. Instead, he's just got an axe. Any duster in Orzammar could swing a weapon like that. Very uninspiring."

"Actually, the Commander once did wield a sword. It was a kind of weapon that can only be seen once in all of history. A sword named Vigilance." Anders recalled vividly. "It was forged from the bones of an ancient High Dragon by the famous weapon smith Master Wade, exactly to Aedan's specifications. But I think the only thing that weapon could possibly inspire is fear and terror, especially when it was in Aedan Cousland's hand." Anders thought back to when he saw Aedan wield Vigilance in defense of Amaranthine, and just thinking about it still made him feel awed by what that man could. "Truly, it was a sword that could make a legend out of anyone who held it."

"Wow. I gotta admit, Blondie, you told that tale pretty damned well." Varric complimented, genuinely impressed, and eager to hear more. "So...? What happened to the sword."

An uncomfortable look twisted on Anders' face as he recalled Vigilance's fate. "It was...stolen not even a few months after the Amaranthine Crisis, by Antivan Crows. They heard about the power of his sword and wanted it for themselves. Later we got word that the Crows in turn lost it and it all but disappeared...He really, _really_ doesn't like talking about it."

"No, I do not. So maybe you people wanna try doing something useful instead of gossiping about me like I'm not even here!" Aedan shouted at them rather irritated. "Seriously! I'm not even twelve yards from you idiots and you're talking like I'm not even in the same city as you. Oh, and Guard-Captain Aveline," Aedan flashed her a rather toothy and sinister grin. "if you want to talk about my eating habits, you should come over here and ask me yourself."

Every one of them froze in equal parts horror and embarrassment. Suddenly they all wished they were back were fighting something right now, instead of making themselves look like a troupe of jackasses.

"Ahem. Maybe we should get to the barracks now, and see what we can learn from our suspect." Aveline suggested earnestly.

"Yeah. Preferably before the Hero of Ferelden starts getting hungry." Varric agreed hurriedly.

**~XoXoXo~**

Hawke and his companions made their way to the barracks where Garth was being held in their cells. After that scene the Hero of Ferelden caused, the tensions were still high amongst Hawke's companions. Fenris and Aveline were still mad at the Hero for the way he spoke to them both since he arrived, and Anders would rather be in the Deep Roads right now than even be in the same city as Aedan Cousland. Varric was wishing they fixing yet another problem, because this situation they were in was a writer's dream come true. Two legendary heroes in the same city, both being targeted by a secretive group that was out to destroy them, it was a literary goldmine! Merrill and Isabella stayed close to Hawke; after seeing the Hero of Ferelden get threatening with him, it was only natural for them to feel protective of their man.

Hawke, on the other hand, couldn't really care less about Aedan Cousland right now.. He had more important things to worry about than the Hero of Ferelden's temper. He wanted answers, and he wanted them right now. Hawke wanted to know who was responsible for this attack and why, so that Aveline could hang them before the week was out.

When they arrived at the barracks, they were greeted by Aveline's husband, Donnic, who was more than relieved to see his wife unharmed.

"I'm so glad you're unharmed." Donnic sighed gladly, and embraced his wife.

"I'm alright, Donnic, but so many people are not." Aveline said hugging her husband back. "Has the suspect ready for questioning?"

Donnic flashed his wife and commander a confused look. "Wait, you're talking about Garth? What does he have to do with this?"

"You know that kid, Donnic?" Hawke inquired.

"A little. He and I are from the same neighborhood. I know his mother." Donnic answered, still confused. "He's a good kid."

"Not quite so good as you think. This boy was involved with the bombings that just happened in Lowtown." Fenris stated damningly.

That bit of news hit Donnic like a club to the face. "What? That can't...The suspect is ready for you in the holding cells, Captain. Will there be anything else?" Any pity Donnic might have had was replaced by his sense of duty to the Kirkwall Guard and his wife.

"No, Donnic. Resume your post."

Donnic saluted his Guard-Captain dutifully and followed his orders.

"Hawke, I want you to be here for this. You heard what his friend was saying in the tavern, and you brought him down. Maybe you can get some answers out of him." Aveline requested.

"Alright, but let's be careful. His friend bit his own tongue off before giving us any real answers." Hawke recalled grimly. "Garth seemed just as devoted to this cause of theirs."

"Agreed."

Aveline and Hawke entered the cell, ready to do what they had to for answers. The instant they walked through that door, a newfound sense of horror pierced their hearts like a lance.

"Sweet Andraste!" Aveline gasped in shock.

"Anders, get in here now!" Hawke yelled urgently.

Anders and the others ran into the holding cell and found what was distressing them so badly. There was nothing Anders, or any mage could do. Garth had hung himself from his cell bars with his own shirt.

Hawke cut the misguided boy's body down and set him on the ground with dignity. First Randall, now Garth. Hawke couldn't understand this. Why? Why would they throw their lives away? Was their loyalty to hatred to great that even their own lives didn't matter? Donnic came running in and was horrified by the sight.

"Oh, holy Maker...What am I going to tell his mother?" Donnic said sadly. "He was a good lad! Why would he do this!?"

"Suicide is a sin in the eyes of the Maker." Sebastian said full of sympathy and regret for the misguided youth. "Still, even he deserves the proper rites."

"I doubt his victims would feel the same." Fenris scoffed.

"If the Hero of Ferelden is any indication, being hanging himself was probably the smart decision." Isabela pointed out casually. "All those pissed of Fereldans back in Lowtown would probably have ripped him apart if they could."

"But why would he do it?" Merrill asked, sadly looking at the poor young man. "We wouldn't have hurt him. Why take his own life?"

"Because he knew we wanted answers, Daisy. And tightly knit groups, like the Carta and some others, would rather kill themselves than talk or betray their accomplices." Varric stated knowledgably.

"Maybe we should have handed him to the Hero of Ferelden." Isabella looked back in hindsight. "Garth wouldn't have had the chance to take his own life. Now all you've got is just another dead body."

Hawke shook his head depressed at the situation, but he wasn't ready to stop now, or take the time to feel sorry for Garth. There was still work to be done. "Let's get him into the coroner's office. See what he can tell us."

"Unless you plan to have one of the Merrill somehow resurrect this bastard with her bloodmagic, I don't think he's going to be telling us anything anytime soon." Fenris said with doubtful contempt.

"Just because one is dead, doesn't mean he can't be helpful." Hawke assured.

Aveline's men set to the task and set Garth's dead body on the coroner's table. Now it was time for Hawke to do what he did he best: get answers. While most people merely thought of Hawke as a great warrior and protector, many didn't know that Hawke got where he was now thanks to his sharp analytic skills. Over the years, Hawke made quite a reputation for himself in Kirkwall as a detective and problem solver, and this skill set is what made him so useful for helping with the city's many crimes, and even made the base for Varric's _Hard in Hightown_ book series.

Everyone waited outside the cell while Hawke conducted his investigation. Many things were going through their minds right now from all the turbulent and bloody events that had just transpired in the last few hours. What should have been a joyous occasion for so many quickly turned into a horrible nightmare. Who was behind all this, and why would they slaughter so many? Did this have something to do with Aedan Cousland's arrival in Kirkwall? What manner of explosives did they use to cause so much carnage? There were many questions. Right now, all they could do was hope Hawke could find some answers.

"Everyone, come in here, I think I've got some answers." Called Hawke from the cell room. All his companions breathed a sigh of relief. They were eager to get back on track and forget this embarrassing moment.

Hawke had stripped Garth's body down to his skivvies, and everyone gathered around the table to see his findings on the recently deceased young man. Most of them looked at the boy's body with sympathy, but it was apparent that Aedan really couldn't care less about him. As far as he was concerned, he was just another dead enemy.

"So, Hawke, what have you found?" Aveline asked eager for answers.

"You see this tattoo on his right hand?" Hawke pointed to the illustration on the back of Garth's palm that depicted a severed dog head with a sword shoved through it.

"Yeah, I remember. Garth's buddy had the same one." Varric recalled.

"The ink still looks fresh. It had to have been done this week." Fenris pointed out. The tattoos may not have been lyrium, but even Fenris could see that detail.

"If Garth and Randall were working together, then it's probably a gang mark." Aveline surmised.

"Not just any gang mark, Aveline. Don't you recognize this?" Hawke asked, but Aveline didn't know. "This was the tag that the Dog-Lord Slayers used to identify their members."

"The Dog-Lord Slayers? Andraste's ass, I haven't heard that name in a while." Varric exclaimed, fully surprise.

"Is that some sort of street gang?" Sebastian asked curiously.

"Bunch of small-time thugs who plagued Lowtown a few years ago. Most of them were Anti-Fereldens who liked to plague on refugees." Hawke recollected vividly. "As I recall, you had to beat a Fereldan senseless as an initiation. Hence Dog-Lord Slayers. Not a very imaginative name, but I doubt these racist bastards had much in the way of brain power."

Aveline shook her head wearily. "I barely remember them Hawke. They were so petty and not around long enough for me to even remember. Were they one of the gangs you got rid of for those...friends of friends?"

"Yes."

"I remember the day we took care of those pricks." Isabella remembered fondly. "The Friends of Red Jenny paid us a pretty penny when we got rid of them. I spent all that coin over at the hat shop in Hightown. Aww, money well spent."

"How do you go from petty thugs to hardened terrorist?" Fenris inquired. "Those thugs weren't even minnows compared to the other gangs in this city. This is not the same group we faced before."

"No, it isn't. They're something far worse." Hawke confirmed grimly. "When I confronted Garth on the roof, his movements and technique were impeccable. Some kind of specialized training, not common foot soldier techniques. Someone trained him to fight, to be a killer. Not only that, they supplied the Slayers with top tier equipment. Look at this." Hawke grabbed the sword that Garth had so recently used to try and kill him with. It was a simple blade, but of obvious high quality. It reflected the light of the room like a mirror, and Hawke gave it few test swings that made the blade sing when it cut the air. "This is an authentic dwarven steel blade, and not the kind you would find here on the surface. This weapon was made in Orzammar."

Hawke pointed to the maker's mark on the base of the blade, and confirmed his claim. The mark was a dwarven pictograph in the shape of a helmet, made in the traditional dwarven geometric design. Seeing such weapons was more common in Ferelden or Orlais, but it was extremely rare to see them in the Free Marches.

"That's impossible!" Varric asserted firmly, even though the evidence was right in front of him. "There's no way a self-respecting Smith from Orzammar would ever sell good steel to the likes of these nug-humpers. Even if he did, these guys wouldn't be able to afford it."

"And his armor, it's the same kind of quality Orlesian bards use when they're committing assassinations." Hawke pointed out.

"But it doesn't make any sense, Hawke." Anders maintained. Having to deal with both the Carta and Coturie every day in Darktown, he knew what it took to be a real gangster in Kirkwall. "The Dog-Lord Slayers couldn't even try to compete with the major gangs in this city. There's no way they could ever afford such equipment or training."

"Then somebody is funding them." Aveline stated. "Using their agenda, or recruiting from them to attack Fereldans. Someone with money to spare and an axe to grind."

"None of this explains how they were able to blow up the rally." Sebastian pointed out despondently. "We didn't find any explosives, yet they were able to cause such devastation."

"I think I can answer that, Hawke." Merrill answered meekly. She wanted to help even though she was afraid to answer, but her desire to help Hawke was stronger than her insecurity. "When Anders and I were helping with the injured, I could sense the power that was lingering there. This attack was most certainly the work of a mage. It wasn't bloodmagic, but it was something very similar to it."

Fenris scoffed spitefully. He was not surprised. "Of course it was! Whenever there's trouble like this, you'll always find a mage behind it all. It figures that you of all people would know if bloodmagic was involved."

Hawke scowled at Fenris threateningly. He took exception to Fenris' to how he spoke towards Merrill. "Fenris, I suggest you watch your tone. So far, Merrill has contributed more to this catastrophe than you have. So maybe you should shut up."

"That's not possible. Sean was no mage!" Anders denied adamantly.

"Sean?" Hawke asked curiously.

"He...he was the bomb." Ander answered sadly. "I found him in the middle of the crowd, he looked like he was in terrible pain. He fell to his knees, and then he exploded! Like a keg of qunari black powder!"

"What can you tell us about Sean?"

"I remember him. He was on my list of missing persons." Aveline pointed out. "He was a Fereldan refugee, came to Kirkwall with his family to escape the Blight. A few weeks ago, he was approached for some long-term employment. He hasn't been seen since then."

"So how does our missing person go from being disappeared to right in the middle of a crowd of people, then blow up?" Varric asked confused.

"I don't know how he got there, but I think I know how they made a bomb out of him." Hawke answered grimly. "The School of Entropy."

Anders looked at the Champion with a serious look in her eyes. "That is not a very widely studied form of magic. How do you know about that school, Hawke?"

"My father, Malcolm, was a powerful apostate. He taught my sister everything she knows, and passed on some of his knowledge to me." Hawke answered. "He taught me that the School of Entropy uses spells that focus on decay, erosion and destruction. Focuses on attacking a person's life force. It's the closest thing a mage can get to bloodmagic without crossing that line. My father once told me of a spell that this school teaches is called the Walking Bomb. It uses the life force of the victim to create an explosion from the inside, and destroy everything around it. But I never thought it was this powerful."

"So you mean to tell me that there's someone out there making bombs out of people?!" Aveline asked aghast.

"More than that. It confirms my theory. Someone with a lot of power, influence and wealth is coordinating the Slayers in some sort of vendetta against Fereldans." Hawke affirmed knowledgably. "They scoop up a Fereldan refugee they think no one will miss, cast this spell on him to blow up the peace rally. They wanted Garth on that roof to confirm the attack was carried out. And, whoever is leading the Slayers now, they trained both Garth and Randall to commit suicide if they were ever captured, so they couldn't reveal their secrets."

Merrill placed her hands over her mouth in appalled shock. "Mythal'enaste! That's horrible!"

"How can anyone think of doing such a thing?" Sebastian asked with equal horror.

"Someone with a grudge against Fereldans, and against the Hero of Ferelden in particular." Hawke answered stoically.

Aveline raised an eyebrow curiously. "Oh? How do you figure that, Hawke?"

"Both Randall and Garth expressed a lot of hatred for both you and me, because we're Fereldans holding positions of rank and power. But Garth seemed particularly interested in seeing the rally the Hero of Ferelden was holding be destroyed." Hawke recalled clearly. "Garth even said that he wasn't there to see if Aedan was killed, but watch to watch him get what you deserve."

"Anders, can you think of anyone who might bare General Cousland a grudge?" Aveline asked earnestly.

A surprised laugh blurted out of Anders' mouth, like the question was ridiculous that it had to be funny. "Aveline, that man's got more enemies than some countries have people. Like Fenris said, you don't get to where he's at and do the things he's done without stepping on a lot of people."

"There anyone in particular who would really, really want you to see the Hero suffer?" Varric inquired.

"None of dire consequence. He killed all the ones that mattered. But then again, I wouldn't know. In the time I left, he could have made new enemies, and that's something he's very good at." Anders answered blithely. His response was more than a little disturbing to the rest of them. How often could that man have killed people?

Isabella shook her head irritably. This was a lot to take in at once. "There's still one thing I don't get: if all this is true, then why did Garth show up at the Hanged Man, drunk off his ass, spouting about his little club's big plan?"

Hawke shrugged, it confused him as well. All things considered, Randall getting drunk and angrily spouting at them was their first big break in this case. "I honestly have no idea. The way he spoke, the things he said. He truly believed in his heart that killing my countrymen was an honor."

"How could anyone possibly think that something as horrid as that could be an honor?" Sebastian asked dismally.

"Whoever is controlling the Slayers, they've...indoctrinated them into thinking that these actions are honorable. That this cause is one worth dying for. And if there are any others like him, then there will be more attacks, and they might be worse than what just happened."

Merrill placed her hand on Hawke's and looked up to him with determination in her green eyes. "How do we stop them, ma vhenan?"

Hawke smiled warmly at his elven lover. He always knew she would have his back. He grabbed the Garth's dwarven steel sword and held it confidently. "We follow the trail. See where that leads us. Varric. Whose the most powerful Carta boss in the region?"

"Uh, that'd be...Boss Barkas of House Cadash. Why?" Varric asked somewhat nervous.

"I need you to set a meeting with him. As quickly as possible."

**~XoXoXo~**

Varric was grudgingly able to use his connections within the Merchant Guild and called in a few favors from his Carta contacts to quickly arrange a meeting with Boss Barkas, against Varric's better judgment. Barkas agreed to meet with them, but it had to be as place of his choosing. That's why they were walking into the muck and stink of Darktown.

As the Guard-Captain of Kirkwall, Aveline couldn't be part of this meet unless she was going to arrest Barkas for his criminal activities. Sebastian also chose to stay behind, so that he could continue to help the Grand Cleric with the injured in Lowtown. Anders was certainly not pleased with having to go down to some abandoned quarry in Darktown to meet with the man who was probably responsible for all the shakedowns and racketeering that is forced on the people he's always healing. But none of them were more nervous than Varric was right now. He wasn't exactly keen on meeting one of the most ruthless crime boss of all the Carta families.

Hawke didn't really care at the moment how powerful or influential this Barkas Cadash was. If he knew something about the attack on Lowtown, Hawke wanted know what.

"What can you tell me about this Barkas Cadash, Varric?" Hawke asked curiously.

"Well, I guess since we're really doing this, you might as well know what you're getting into, Hawke." Varric sighed. He was not exactly fond of this idea. "House Cadash is one of the most powerful and ruthless of all the Carta families. Originally, House Cadash were of the Warrior Caste in Orzammar, very strong and very feared, even by the Assembly. After they were exiled a few generations ago, they quickly to set to work on carving themselves a place in the Carta by taking over a huge percentage of the lyrium smuggling trade, as well as getting goods from and to Orzammar. Those that opposed them didn't live very long to regret it."

"Any idea why they were exiled?"

"Who knows? Probably the usual: they pissed off the wrong people in the Assembly and the deshyrs didn't feel like putting up with them. Personally, I don't blame 'em!" Varric stated strenuously. "These guys make the Couturie look like a Chantry choir group."

"Sounds like just the people we're looking for then."

They arrived at the designated meeting place, the Carta was already waiting for them. Hawke had been fighting with the Carta virtually since he first arrived in Kirkwall. He usually fond them to be a bunch of ruthless, conniving thugs who would rather beat a problem to death than actually solve one. But theses dwarves were different. They were watching intently instead of glowering. The way they carried their weapons, the look they had in their eyes, even the way they stood revealed their discipline, their control. These Carta dwarves were more akin to soldiers than gangsters. If House Cadash were originally of the Warrior Caste, then their skill and discipline was still being carried on by their descendants. No wonder this clan was so powerful.

"Ah, the Champion of Kirkwall. And here I am without my autograph book. I always thought you'd be taller." One of the guards joked.

"Still taller than you, and that's what really matters." Hawke rebutted. "Now, maybe you can stop wasting my time by trying play the clever dwarf and direct me to your boss."

"Alright, human. S'your funeral." The carta dwarf chuckled. "The boss is waiting for you inside. Word of advice: don't try anything, because the boss picked a nice little sewer hole for us to dump you in if you try."

The guards led them inside the underground warehouse, where inside were even more armed guards. Either this Barkas was paranoid, or he wanted to show Hawke that he wasn't someone to be trifled with. Once inside they found a table standing in the middle of the room. Sitting at it was a dwarf who appeared to be waiting. He was an older man, with streaks of grey in his thick and intricately knotted hair and beard. He was dressed in the fashion of a dwarven noble, and had golden rings with precious stones set in them on each finger and even hanging in his beard. His eyes were grey and steely with decades of hardened experience behind them. Every pair of dwarven eyes in this building, including Varric's, looked at this man with respect. This must have been the Carta boss.

"Barkas Cadash of House Cadash, I presume." Hawke addressed respectfully.

"You presume correctly, Lord Hawke." The dwarven crime boss greeted with a stern but polite voice. Hawke sat himself on the other side of the table, ready to begin their talks. "Before we start, Champion, let me make this perfectly clear: I came here as a courtesy to Varric and the rest of House Tethras. I owed a favor to Bartrand, and when our meeting has concluded, I will considered that debt paid. Don't think that I'm unaware of your actions against the Carta."

"I'm sure my brother would have appreciated this." Varric assured.

"Sounds like we both want to get straight to the point, so I won't waste your time." Hawke pulled out the sword that brought him here. The carta men became alarmed at the sight of the Champion pulling a weapon on their employer and moved to act. Barkas raised his hand, signaling his men to stand down while Hawke placed the sword in front of him. "You recognize this this sword, Lord Cadash?"

Barkas glanced at the blade with his steely eyes before for a moment before turning his attention back to the Champion. "A sword, or so it would seem."

"Don't insult me, Cadash. I'm not in the mood for anyone else's bullshit today." Hawke shot back impatiently. "This is authentic Orzammar steel, and this here on the base of the blade...that's the mark of House Dural of the Smith Caste, who provide weapons to the Warrior Caste."

A deep chuckle erupted from Barkas' gut. He was actually impressed by this human's knowledge of dwarven society. "I'll give you this much, Champion, you certainly know your weapons."

"All the things I encounter here in this city, I've had to familiarize myself with every kind of type of weapon, armor, and fighting style in Thedas." Hawke responded honestly. "Apart from you lyrium smuggling business, your clan also corners the market of dwarven weaponry from Orzammar, probably from ties that your House made back when your Ancestors were of the Warrior Caste. You're the only one who could have sold weapons like these."

Barkas laughed, genuinely amused by this human. "I must admit, Champion, I am impressed, and at my age, I that rarely happens, even less so by humans. So what is it you want exactly? For me to sell to you?"

"Not exactly." Hawke asserted. "I want you to give the names of the people you sold these weapons to recently. It shouldn't be too hard, it would have been a very large order."

After a brief moment of awkward silence, and Varric being filled with enough anxiety to sink a ship, Geribor busted out laughing at the top of his lungs. Both his men and Varric were actually a little bit scared of what could possibly be laughing at, while Hawke just sat there quietly on his side of the table, his face unflinching.

"Oh, there's gall, and then there's damned gall!" Barkas guffawed and wiped a tear from his eye. "I don't know if I should shake your hand or kill you and feed your body to the rats. You come to me, on a favor for a dead man, who I didn't even like, and then you waste my time with something as pitiful as wanting to know who my buyers are like I'm obligated to give you that information. I don't even know how to respond to that."

Hawke smiled a cunning grin at the old dwarven crime lord, knowing that little ace up his sleeve. "Now, Lord Barkas, I wouldn't dream of arranging a meeting with a Carta Boss as powerful as you and not make it worth your time. I would never be that arrogant or insulting. My mother taught me better than that."

Barkas quirked an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Oh, is that so? An offer from the Champion of Kirkwall? Now, that is something that just might be worth my time. What could you possibly offer me to divulge such sensitive and profitable information?"

"A simple promise." Hawke answered stoically. Now he really had everyone's attention. "A promise that after you have told me what I want to know, you and your Carta will continue to eke out an existence living off crime, like the parasites of society that you are, and you will not be maimed, gored, impaled, eviscerated or eaten after today...if you tell me what I want."

The amused smile on Barkas' face was instantly wiped off and replaced by an infuriated scowl that was shared by his men. Barkas' men and Hawke's companions all began reaching for their weapons, ready for a fight to ensue.

"Careful, Champion." Barkas warned dangerously. "I only have so much humor, and my men and I do not take kindly to threats in the least bit."

"Oh, I'm not threatening you, Cadash, not in the least bit." Hawke assured, remaining calm and not in the least bit threatened. "I am merely stating a fact. Well, more of a prediction really. One that you would be wise to follow."

Barkas scoffed at Hawke's words. "A prediction? A prediction of what?"

"Your whole House's salvation, or it's destruction. But as to which one it will be depends entirely on you, and how you answer me." Hawke answered cryptically.

"What are talking about?" Barkas demanded, his limited patience being stretched thin.

"These weapons you sold, you sold them to a group of extremists called the Dog-Lord Slayers. They were the ones who attacked Lowtown today, got a lot of people hurt and killed."

Barkas scoffed off the whole notion as ridiculous. "Tch. I just sell the merchandise. What people do with the merchandise after they've bought it is none of my concern. And not even your friend, the Guard-Captain, has the authority, or even the power, to push on me for selling my wares to whoever can meet my price. So far, your predictions seem awfully inaccurate. So far you're not giving me a reason not to have my men gut you here and now."

"Save your threats, dwarf. I've killed more than enough Carta thugs to never be intimidated by them. Besides, I'm here to do you a favor, and you're not being very helpful." Hawke warned very threateningly. "You see, it's not me or the Guard-Captain you need to worry about. It's Aedan Cousland, the Hero of Ferelden, who's going to destroy you."

Hawke noticed some of Barkas' men shudder and falter at the mere mention of Aedan. Even a flash of hesitation, maybe even fear, came over the crime boss. Somehow, Hawke knew that would get their attention.

"Aedan Cousland? What...what does he have to do with this?" Barkas asked, he even sounded a little nervous.

"Didn't you hear? The rally that was blown up was being hosted by him, and now he's on the warpath, looking for those responsible. He decided to hold back on wiping anyone out until after I've investigated." It'd be a shame if I were to implicate you."

"I could have you killed right now, and there'd be no one to say anything." Barkas threatened.

"Hmm. You could try, but I know you'd fail, like every other gangster has when they tried to kill me." Hawke waved off unperturbed. "Besides, even if, by some farfetched miracle, you were able to somehow kill me, it wouldn't do you any good. I've already arranged with Guard-Captain Aveline to insure that if I don't return from our little talk, that she tells the Hero that the carta, your carta, was responsible for arming those responsible on the attack of our people. And I'm on a first-name basis with the Hero. I think you can imagine what he would do."

A profound, powerful silence came over the meeting place like a dark cloud. Hawke could feel the carta enforcers' discipline and resolve starting to disappear. Some of them were even trying to slink away into the shadows as if they wanted to escape the very mention of Aedan's name. Even the mighty Barkas Cadash was starting to break into a cold sweat.

"You remember Aedan Cousland did to the Carta back in Orzammar, don't you?" Hawke asked ominously. "How he stormed into the Carta's base, butchered every member that was stupid enough to stand between him and Jarvia. Jarvia, the most powerful of the Carta bosses, who even the Noble Caste were afraid of. He beat her to a bloody, crying pulp, and even when she begged for her life, Aedan Cousland cut her throat, ripper her head off with her spine still attached, then presented it to King Bhelen as a paperweight. Imagine what he could do to House Cadash?"

That last question gave Barkas pause, and Hawke could finally see that distinctive look of fear dancing in his eyes. The last shred of courage in the carta thugs' bodies finally shattered, and Hawke could see their knees starting to quake and their hands shivering.

"So what's it going to be, Cadash?" Hawke demanded seriously. "You can choose to answer my questions, and you and your clan can continue existing like the parasites of society that you are, or you can choose to suffer the Hero of Ferelden's wrath, and he will devour every last member of your House piece by piece, down to the last child. And the final epitaph for House Cadash will be _'they fucked with Aedan Cousland'_. What's it going to be?"

Barkas Cadash, patriarch of the powerful House Cadash, one of the most feared and ruthless of all the Carta Bosses, gave into Hawke's terms, without a second thought. In the face of total annihilation at the hands of the Hero of Ferelden, answering a few questions for the Champion was an easy choice. "What do you want to know?"

"You sold a large order of dwarven weapons to a group called the Dog-Lord Slayers, correct?"

"Yes."

"How large?"

"Enough to outfit a small army." Barkas recalled the order very well. It wasn't very often anyone had the money to pay for that many weapons. "I could tell most of them were still green by how excited they were to finally have quality steel in their hands, like they had yet to actually get into a real fight."

"What can you tell me about them?"

"They're vicious little fucks, I can tell you that, but I think you knew it already." That statement coming from Barkas spoke volumes about the Slayers. "If it wasn't for the fact they needed my weapons, I think they'd rather take a dwarf's head than give them money. I was also very surprised that it was these so-called Slayers that approached me, or that they even had the money to buy anything. As I'm sure you know, the Slayers were nothing more than small-time minnows compared to the real muscle in this city, but over a month ago they approached my business wanting to make a deal, and acted as if they were ready to go to war."

"So who brokered the deal?"

"Most of them were rabble, from what I could tell. Whelps and pricks who probably had no business even holding a sword. But there was one amongst them who they all listened to..." Barkas' memory was still sharp, and he remembered faces very well, especially the ones he didn't like. "I could tell this guy was a professional killer, and he was the one who inspected the quality of the weapons, and, like you, he knew his weapons better than I know my own kids. But there was something off about him. All his underlings obeyed his every word, but it seemed like it was more out of fear than respect."

Hawke leaned forward, deeply interested and concerned about this mystery man. "What can you tell me about this man?"

"Not much, but he's not a man to be trifled with it seems; even his own men were scared of him." Barkas answered truthfully. "He was Orlesian, I could tell from his accent. He was no thug, either. He carried himself like a soldier, maybe even a Chevalier. He spoke of your people like they were more like animals than anything. But what I remember the most about him were those eyes. Hollowed and blank, like he was dead inside, with nothing but a spark of hate keeping them lit. I heard his men call him Renard."

"And this Renault, he was the one who brokered the deal?"

"He made sure that the deal went smoothly, but it was another man who did the buying and the talking, a Free Marcher. He was an arrogant pig of a man, his compatriot didn't seem to like him, but the other Slayers hung on his every word like he was Andraste's mouthpiece. He was the one who paid for the Slayers' weapons and armor." Geribor answered.

"I need a _name_, Barkas!" Hawke shouted impatiently.

"Jeven. He said his name was Jeven."

That name rang in Hawke's head like a Chantry bell being beaten with a war hammer. He came here for a lead, and by the Maker, he got one. "Do you know where I can find him?"

"Word in the underground is that he's holding some kind of anti-Ferelden hate rally in another part in an abandoned quarry to recruit some new blood. It's going down tonight. I can draw you a map."

One of Barkas' men handed his boss a pen and paper, and the old crime lord jotted down a set of simple direction and handed them to Hawke. A small smile appeared on Hawke's face at the sight of the directions. "This is exactly what I needed to hear, Barkas. Thank you."

Hawke got up from his seat and made his way out of there with the rest of his companions. His purpose here was done, and now he wanted to get out of this shit-smelling sewer.

"Wait!" Barkas beseeched to the Champion's back. "The Hero of Ferelden, he...he won't hear any of this, will he?" There was a twinge of fear in Geribor's voice, and Hawke could feel all of the other carta dwarves waiting breathlessly for an answer.

"He won't even know you exist." Hawke assured without even glancing back at Barkas. He heard all the dwarves present breathe a collective sigh of relief, now that they know one of the worst fates that could ever befall them wasn't going to happen.

**~XoXoXo~**

None of them said a word until they were well out of Darktown. Every single on of Hawke's companions couldn't believe what had just transpired. Given all their previous encounters with the Carta, especially back in that Grey Warden prison, and the fact they were meeting a powerful Carta boss, they all thought this encounter would begin and end. Instead, they got what they needed, and every carta duster in there was willing to sing like a Chantry choir member to make sure Hawke got what he wanted. To say this was a surprise was a massive understatement.

"Andraste's firm tits, Hawke!" Varric finally exclaimed, no longer able to contain his disbelief or how astonished he was. "I've been avoiding that guy for most of my life because of how scary he was! Barkas Cadash is one of the most feared and ruthless Carta lords alive, and just waltzed in there and made him spill his guts like scared kid who was threatened with the boogeyman. Reminder me never to play a game of Wicked Grace with you again."

"Using the Hero of Ferelden as a threat? If I were him, I'd be flattered." Isabella complimented.

"For such hardened criminals to act the way they did; it makes me wonder just what kind of man this Hero of Ferelden truly is." Fenris commented curiously.

"Right now, I'd be more concerned about the man who bought those weapons." Anders said anxiously. "I have no idea who this Renault is, but Jeven? I remember him alright."

"Wasn't he the one who used to have Aveline's job?" Merrill recalled.

"Yes, then he was disgraced and arrested when we found out that he was involved with the Coturie." Hawke remembered that day clearly, and all the death threats and Fereldan slurs he spouted at Aveline while Jeven's own men took him away in chains. "I thought he was still in prison. If Jeven's involved, we need to let Aveline know immediately."

Isabella nodded her head in excited agreement. "Well, let's not keep her waiting. I can't wait to see what Lady Man-Hands does to a bent guard turned terrorist."

**~XoXoXo~**

Hawke and the others made their way back to Hightown, hoping to leave the stench of the undercity behind them, and proceeded to the Vicount's Keep where the City Guard Barrack's was stationed. They had to get this information to Aveline quickly. But as they made their way to the Keep, Aveline herself came rushing down the way to meet them, and she had a very worried look on her face. All of them knew that if Aveline was disturbed, then they all probably in trouble.

"Hawke! Thank the Maker you're here." Aveline exclaimed worriedly. "I hope you've found something. Things have just taken a turn for the worse."

"Oh, great. Now what." Varric groaned into his hands.

"Aveline, has something else happened?" Hawke asked concerned.

"While you were gone, and the rest of us were tending to our own tasks, that mage in the Silver Order who was helping the Circle mages, Petra? She's disappeared." Aveline answered. "Her comrades looked for her, but found nothing, and they all refuse to believe that she simply wandered off. General Cousland is furious, and he's blaming the Templars. He went over to the Chantry to demand that Elthina do something about this."

"Why didn't he just go to you?"

"I tried to reason with him, but he knows that I have no jurisdiction over the Templars, and have less means of even knowing where Petra is." Aveline looked to her friend beseechingly, her face full of worry. "Hawke, General Cousland is already outraged about the attack in Lowtown and all the people that were hurt. Now someone under his command has been taken, and I can't say that his anger in unjustified. But if we don't do something, I don't think the city will survive the destruction the Hero will bring."

"Do you truly think his anger is justified?"

Aveline sighed heavily. She didn't want to admit it, but there was no denying it, either. "He came here looking to help his people and bring them home, only for someone to attack them, maiming and killing many. Now, someone under his command is missing, and given the reputation of the Templars here, his suspicions are not unfounded. Twice now, in the same day, someone has made an assault against him. If _I_ were in his position, I doubt I could overlook such an insult. But my concern is that this could turn into an international incident. Kirkwall has only just began recovering from the Qunari invasion, we cannot afford a conflict with Ferelden."

"You're right, Aveline. A disaster from the Hero of Ferelden could leave what's left of Kirkwall in a giant, smoldering crater. We need to see if we can head this off."

An small idea came to Hawke's mind when he recalled a small fact about the Hero he had completely forgotten. It might have seemed insignificant to some, but Hawke had a feeling this might buy them some much needed time and even grace. "Merrill, I want you to go back to the house, and have Bodahn and Sandal bring my other weapons. Have them meet us as the Chantry."

"I'll do it, ma vhenan." Merrill promised.

**~XoXoXo~**

Hawke, Aveline and the rest of them hurried over to the Kirkwall Chantry, where half the Knights of the Silver Order were waiting outside. As they entered they noticed almost all of the Chantry sisters and brothers were clinging to the walls and shadows, doing their best not to be noticed, and quaking in fear. It was as if they were trying to hide from some monster that broke into their sacred walls. Seeing as Aedan Cousland was standing at the altar, yelling so loudly the whole Chantry boomed with his voice, right at Grand Cleric Elthina. Sebastian stood faithfully by her side, angrily glaring at the Hero, but remained silent as Elthina did. Aedan's squires, Bevin and Amythene stood behind their commander, both of them looking outraged themselves. If they were capable of being as angry as their commander, they certainly would be, but no one was capable of matching Aedan Cousland's anger.

"WHERE IS SHE!?" Aedan fumed like a thunderstorm.

"Lord Cousland, please, calm down." Elthina beseeched unperturbed.

"Fuck calm! Someone blows up my fucking rally with my countrymen right in the middle, and now one of your fucking Templars takes my mage, and you want be to be calm!? Fuck you!"

"Please, Lord Cousland, at least show some decorum, this is a Chantry!" Sebastian berated deeply offended by the man's behavior. "As Fereldan noble, even you must have that much respect."

Aedan hocked in his throat and angrily spat on the statue of Andraste that looked over the entire Chantry. Several Chantry sisters screamed in horror while some fainted at the sight of such blasphemy. Even Hawke was shocked at such a sight.

"There's your respect, right there!" Aedan shouted viciously, pointing to the splatter of spit on Andraste's feet. "Now stop wasting my time with your bullshit, and start doing your job!"

"How dare you!?" Sebastian demanded. Furious and outraged at the Hero's heresy, he stepped up to Aedan's behavior. Aedan shoved the Starkhaven Prince so hard Sebastian was sent flying off his feet and into a wall, knocking the wind out of him.

"Stay out of this, boy! You're betters are talking." Aedan seethed.

Elthina looked over to Sebastian, shocked and horrified what was happening right before her very eyes. How could anyone be so violent?

"Please, Lord Cousland, there is no need for this disgraceful behavior." The Grand Cleric berated sternly, refusing to give into her fear of the angry Fereldan general. "Your actions shame your rank and your country."

"Don't even think about talking to me about what shame is, woman. You have to earn the right to do that." Aedan growled. "First the attack on my people, now your Templars take my mage? This is the final insult I'll suffer in this fucking city."

"How do you know it was the Templars who did this?" Elthina asked defensively.

"Because we saw several Templars asking her for her aid with some injured in an alley. Being a healer, and a former Circle mage, she obliged." Bevin answered sternly.

"Obviously, we didn't trust the Templars, so we followed after them." Amythene added. "But when we entered the alley, those Templars and Petra were gone. Just disappeared. Then the other Templars called the Circle mages back to the Gallows."

Elthina remained composed, but it was obvious that this news disturbed her. "Lord Cousland, I can assure you that no Templar here could have done such a reckless and reprehensible thing."

"Bullshit! This city and its Templars are famous for the shitty way it treats its mages, and you're a fool or a liar to say otherwise." Aedan rebuffed. "Now, I want Petra back, and I mean right now."

Elthina tried to reason with the Hero. "It's not that simple, Lord Cousland..."

"The fuck it isn't. The Templars answer to the Chantry, and you're the highest ranking Chantry official in this shithole of a city." Aedan interrupted rudely. He towered over the old woman with a threatening gleam in his eyes. "Kick your Templars asses, get me my mage back. Otherwise, I'm going to go over to the Gallows myself, and I'm taking her back. And trust me, woman, that little Qunari invasion you had will seem like a warmly received exchange of ideas by the time I'm done!"

"Lord Cousland, please..." Elthina reached out, but Aedan's mind was made up.

"You have two hours." Aedan dictated with finality. He and his squires turned from the Grand Cleric, ready to follow through with the promise that was just made.

Aveline and Hawke knew they had to step in now. This city was already on the verge of self-destruction, but if Aedan Cousland stepped in, there probably won't be a city left to defend.

"General Cousland, you cannot be serious about this!" Aveline shouted.

"I'm as serious as the Blight, Guard-Captain." Aedan stated. "If you wish to stop me, you're free to try. Though I wouldn't recommend it. I heard you were recently married, and I'm sure you'd rather live a long, happy life with the guy you were lucky enough to reel in."

Aveline gritted her teeth and clenched her fists and an angry vein started pulsing on her forehead. Aveline's limited diplomatic reserves had run out. "Just who do you think you are?! I understand the outrage you're feeling right now. You came here to help your people, only for it to go horribly wrong, and for that, I am truly sorry. We are doing everything we can to find those responsible. But hero or not, you have no right to waltz around this city like you own it!"

"If you had been doing your job, Guard-Captain, none of this would be necessary, would it?" Aedan remarked condescendingly. "And if you think I'm going to suffer repeated assaults against my people, then you're sorely mistaken. If you won't do something about it, I will."

Aveline wasn't backing down, she would not. Not in her own city. "Barking orders, making threats, stomping around like it was your right. Don't you see what you're doing? You're acting just like Loghain!"

Aveline's words were a great shock to Amythene and Bevin, who both obviously took exception to that comparison, and instinctively reached for their weapons in anger. Aedan, on the other hand, just stood there, with that threatening glint in his eyes. "I don't need to explain myself, least of all to the likes of you, Guard-Captain."

"The likes of me?" Aveline repeated, offended.

"Yes, you, Aveline du Lac, daughter of Benoit de Lac." Aedan said lividly, and shocking her and her companions. "What? You think I'd go anywhere without knowing who's who, especially in trash heap city like this? You, a decorated and upstanding officer of the Fereldan army who ran from her country when it needed you the most. Instead, you ran from your country, and adopted this miserable shit-stain of a city. And what have you done in you years as Guard-Captain? Well, let me see if I've got this right, but do stop me if I'm wrong: Um, slavers, organized crime, and blood mages are commonplace here. A demented serial killer ran free for years, until the Champion killed him. Oh, and a Qunari invasion happened on your watch. Though I guess I shouldn't be surprised, running away when times are difficult and failing in another country seems to be a trait in your family. Just like with your bitch-ass Chevalier father!"

Aveline's patience snapped like a dry twig at that insult, and she lost all self-control. She balled up her mailed fist and threw it straight at Aedan's insolent face with all her strength.

**~XoXoXo~**

"And right then and there, I damned near shit my pants at what I saw." Varric recalled as if he were reliving a nightmare that still haunted him.

"Man, just the sound of this Aveline lady...just turns me on!" Iron Bull laughed lecherously.

"Sure, it was a bad, I'da been pissed off too, but he was acting like a shit." Sera said with dislike.

"Guard-Captain Aveline actually managed Aedan?" Leliana said, unable to believe it. After everything she saw the Hero of Ferelden do, she didn't think anything could hurt him. "I didn't think that would be possible."

"Guess the Hero of Ferelden is more mortal than people think." Blackwall spoke with a hint of disappointment.

"If she could do something like that, then Guard-Captain Aveline is more formidable than I ever realized." Cassandra commented admirably. "I can see why you were afraid of her, Varric."

"Oh, make no mistake, I was always scared of Aveline, but she wasn't the one I was terrified of at that moment." Varric stated strenuously. "No, the thing that made me almost brown my trousers, was what Aedan Cousland did..."

Everyone leaned forward, their ears open, eager to hear what Varric had to say. What did Aedan Cousland do when Aveline punched him?

"He did _NOTHING._ Absolutely noting." Varric recalled, taking another deep quaff of ale to calm himself, like he couldn't believe the words that were coming from his own mouth. Everyone was surprised and confused at what he said. "He didn't block, or duck, heck, he didn't even blink. Aedan Cousland just stood there and smiled, while Aveline broke her fist on his face."

**~XoXoXo~**

Aveline yelled in pain and held her broken hand in front of her. Her fingers had been mangled, had at least three fractures in her fist, and her gauntlet was completely shattered. Aedan, on the other hand, just stood there, a sinister smile stuck on his face, without so much as a bruise. What is this guy made of?

"Aw, the truth hurts, doesn't it, Guard-Captain." Aedan condescended, that grin still planted on his face. "Everything Loghain did in his final days, was an abject failure, which resulted in his execution. If anyone here is like Loghain, Guard-Captain, it's _you_. The fact that you've had to rely on the Champion here for so long only proves that. If you won't do anything about these attacks on my people, then I will!"

Hawke was stunned by what he just saw. He once saw Aveline punch a qunari so hard his head twisted backwards. Watched her block an attack from a Pride Demon, and not even budge. Now she breaks her hand just punching the Hero's face? What in Andraste's name was he?

"General Cousland...!" Hawke shouted, getting the Hero's attention. "What you're doing here is uncalled for, and unworthy of someone of your rank and station!"

"Don't talk to me about what propriety is, Sergeant." Aedan snapped harshly. "Dozens killed and maimed in what was supposed to be a peaceful gathering, then some asshole kidnaps someone under my command. All this in a manner of hours! I will not tolerate these attacks against my people!"

"I don't think these are separate attacks, they are related." Hawke revealed. "We have reason to believe that a group of extremists are targeting Fereldans, targeting you. This may be another ploy of theirs to get at you."

"Do you have proof?"

"We have a lead." Hawke answered.

"Then you have nothing." Aedan responded dismally. "For all I know, given the insanity of this city, these could be separate incidents. And I think you know better than I do what fanatics the Templars of this city are, and what lines they're willing to cross. That bitch, Kinght-Commander Meredith herself, made it abundantly clear that she doesn't care about who mages are so long as they are kept in their prisons. So, to me, the suspect is obvious, and I am going to make them pay for this outrage."

"I want what you want, Aedan. I want the bastards who did this to our people to be punished for it, but I know there is more to this! And I'd rather not see my home reduced to ash before I can find the answers." Hawke argued adamantly. "This city by be a trash bin ready to be burned to you, but this is my home, and I will fight to keep you from lighting the match."

Aedan paused for a moment, considering the Champion's words. There weren't many who had the spine to try and backtalk Aedan, but Hawke had been doing practically since he arrived. Most people who even attempted to stand up to him were either arrogant or stupid, but Hawke was neither. He was just that much of a badass. "I'll give you this much, Sergeant, and the Guard-Captain, got more spine than most of this damned city. I swore not to interfere with your investigation in this matter, and I never go back on my word. If you can prove to me that these attacks are done by these extremists, and bring Petra back, I will do nothing. But if you can't, I will go to the Gallows myself, and believe me, I will rip apart the very stones of that building to find her. You have until sunset tomorrow."

Hawke didn't like having this kind of pressure, but he could understand Aedan's reasons. The Templars of this city were famous for their cruelty to mages, and if Aedan believed that they took Petra, then he knew her time could be short before the Templars decided to make her Tranquil. It was a fear Hawke lived with every day for his sister. More importantly, he remembered that as a Fereldan war leader, Aedan Cousland could not show weakness, nor tolerate insults or personal attacks. In Ferelden, his actions would not only be considered acceptable, but expected, otherwise, he wouldn't be a general worth following. Hawke himself would have probably acted the same way if someone did this to him. However, this wasn't Ferelden, and the Marchers here were already scared of outside forces moving in on them. If Aedan followed through with his threat, he could completely destroy this city's need to connect with outside countries to survive.

The pressure was on now. Hawke had no choice. "Then it seems I don't have time to waste."

"Good hunting, Champion." The Hero bade as sincerely as he possibly could.

Anders helped Aveline up and quickly set to work healing her mangled hand. As they made their way to the exit, Hawke was relived to see Bodahn and Sandal enter the Chantry with Merrill. Bodahn had Hawke's Key while Sandal carried the Amell family shield. These were exactly the kind of weapons he was going to need right now.

"Here you are, Champion. My boy and I got these here as fast as we could." Bodahn said as he handed the Champion his Key-Sword.

Hawke could still feel the power of this enchanted weapon when he held it in his hand, the magic his father wielded when he empowered it with his blood. It was the weapon his father, Malcolm Hawke, used to bind Corypheus to his prison, to reinforce the spells that held him there, and it was the same weapon Hawke used to slay the wretched creature, who was like a curse on his family, then had Anders incinerate his carcass. The sword had a wretched color to it. A shade of dull red and brown, like blood that he been dried out for years, as if the blade had been rusted over for centuries, but it was still sharper and more enduring than any other longsword Hawke ever held. The blade was unique; rather than tapering into a sharp point at the end, as most swords did, this one ended in a deep curve, like a scythe. This curved end gave the sword greaters cutting power than any straight blade and made it perfect for piercing the nicks in enemy armor, getting around shields, disemboweling and severing limbs like a sickle cuts wheat. It was a weapon that served Hawke well, and bore enchantments that made it even more dangerous.

"Enchantment!" Sandal shouted with that joy only he could posses as he handed Hawke his family shield.

The shield was an heirloom of the Amell family, his mother's kin, whose blood and history was tied to Kirkwall. The Amell name was one of the most powerful and prominent in this city, but after the death of Hawke's grandparents, and his Uncle Gamlen squandered the family fortune, including Leandra's inheritance, the shield was one of the things taken by the debt collectors. After Hawke became a wealthy man and bought back the Amell Estate, this shield was one of the first things he restored to his mother. After she died, Hawke took to wielding this shield in battle in honor of his mother. Unlike most shields, which hand rounded or flat faces, the Amell Family shield's face was angled outward, like the roof of a house, which made enemy attacks slip off its surface like drops of rain. On the face of the shield was the Amell Family crest, and Hawke had Sandal place several very powerful defensive rune enchantments on the shield so that it could hold back most attacks, whether it was from steel or magic.

Hawke found it appropriate that he wielded a sword from his father and a shield from his mother. They gave him life, made him the man he is, and now their legacies would continue to protect him. He was probably going to need it now that he had the Hero of Ferelden breathing down his neck.

"Will there be anything else, my lord?" Bodahn asked dutifully.

"Actually, there is, Bodahn. As I recall, you traveled with the Hero of Ferelden during the duration of the Blight." Hawke remembered.

"Yes, ser. One of the proudest things I ever did." Bodahn smiled proudly.

"Well, it just so happens that he is standing over there, and I think he would appreciate a visit from an old friend."

"Is that right?" Bodahn peeked over on his toes and was surprised to see his old traveling companion. "Maybe I will just do that, my lord. How about it, Sandal? You want to say hello to the Hero of Ferelden?"

"Enchantment!" Sandal clapped happily.

Both father and son made their way over to the Hero, eager to reunite with their former comrade. With any luck, they would provide a decent distraction to the Hero. Anything to keep him from thinking about burning this city to the ground. Now, Hawke had to get back to his own mission.

Everyone made their way outside, ready to follow Hawke to their next move. Anders finished mending the broken bones in Aveline's hand. They were going to need her sword hand where they were going.

"Maker's breath!" Aveline shouted, flexing her healed hand, unable to believe what just happened to her. "What in Andraste's name is that man made of?!"

"Coustland whiskey and anger issues." Anders answered sarcastically.

"Just who does he think he is?!" Aveline demanded angrily. "I heard the stories, but I never knew the Hero of Ferelden was such a bastard."

"Calm down, Aveline. In his position, you'd probably be just as pissed off." Hawke pointed out. Aveline gave him a disapproving look, but sighed and shook nodded her head, knowing his was right. "Besides Aveline, I think you going to want to save your anger for what I have to tell you."

"Just give me something to hit without breaking my hand, Hawke. I could really use something right now." Aveline sighed.

"We have a lead." Hawke answered earnestly, instantly catching Aveline attention. "We found out who was supplying the Slayers with weapons, and after some convincing, he told us where the Slayers are going to have their next rally, and who's leading."

"Who is it? I'll have him in irons and throw him to the Hero kicking and screaming." Aveline demanded.

"It's Jeven. Your predecessor." Hawke answered flatly.

Aveline stood there for a moment, completely stunned. Not in shock, but in absolute blind rage. Hearing Jeven's name had always rubbed her the wrong way because of how he disgraced the guards, but this was an entirely different level. Her eye twitched subtly and that angry vein reappeared on her forehead. "That...that cast-out disgrace? He's the one behind all this!? Never mind. The Hero can will have to wait his turn. There won't be enough of Jeven left to fill a wineskin when I'm done with him!"

"That's it, Big Girl, get pissed and show these pricks what you can do." Isabela encouraged.

"Apparently, after he was released from prison, Jeven held a bit of grudge against us, and he became an upstanding member of this anti-Ferelden movement." Hawke explained. "It seems he's the one who helped the Slayers obtain their quality weapons."

"Probably used his old criminal contacts to get those weapons. He dared to act as if he was wronged after sacrificing one of his own guards to cover his debts." Aveline huffed angrily at the thought of Jeven's corruption. "Do you know where he is, Hawke?"

"I've got information and a map telling me that he's holding a hate rally in Darktown. It'll be the perfect place to catch him and his conspirators."

"Then that's what we're doing." Aveline declared firmly. "I will not let that man do any more damage than he already has. You and I will go in to confront Jeven and his conspirators while my guards make the arrests. With any luck, we can stop the Slayers' activities and maybe resolve this issue with Cousland's missing mage."

"I don't know, guys. You really think he's behind all this?" Varric shrugged. "Jeven never struck me as the criminal-mastermind kind of guy. If he was, he wouldn't have been caught so easy."

"Then we'll just have to get the answers out of him. Even if I have to wring them out of his neck." Aveline threatened, strangling the air pretending it was Jeven.

**~XoXoXo~**

Hawke led his companions while Aveline led her guards. Thanks to the map Barkas Cadash gave them, they were able to navigate through these maze-like tunnels in the under-city with ease. Much like the Deep Roads, these underground pathways and tunnels could lead to any part of the city, but if you take the wrong one, you could easily get lost, fall to your death in the dark, or run afoul of the merciless natives of this dark place.

They must have been heading in the right direction. They found flyers on the wall welcoming new members to the Slayers that read...

**To the true natives and rightful rulers of Kirkwall,**

**If you are tired of living of the scraps that the invaders of this city leave you, then you are not alone.**

**If you are sick of letting the outsiders who steal your jobs and take away your homes, then hear our words.**

**If you would stand against the foreign invaders who diminish your pride and rob this city of its greatness, then come stand with us.**

**Together, we shall overthrow the tyranny of the guard and the foreign filth who infest Kirkwall, and return this city to its true rulers.**

**No longer shall we be blind to those who rot this city to its core and taint the fruit of our proud heritage.**

"Well, I'll give Jeven this: he certainly knows how to write a good hate speech." Varric commented satirically.

"Let's hurry, we must be getting close." Hawke urged.

They found themselves in an abandoned mining facility carved right into the cliffside by the sea. They were getting so close they could hear the echoes of some kind of empassioned speech being given to eager listeners. Aveline recognized the voice instantly. It was the voice of a man who would order his own men to their deaths for his own gain and not even blink. Jeven. He always did like the sound of his own voice giving orders, it made him feel important, like he was more of a man than he really was. Even after all these years, he was still a pretentious bastard.

"Too long, brave Kirkwall, have you had to suffer the indignity and oppression of outsiders. You did not cast out all other simply to fall under Fereldan influence!" Jeven's voice echoed through the mine. "Leaderless, displaced! Alien hands on the most basic authority. Foreign elite bleeding you dry!"

"Racist, pretentious pig..." Aveline gritted angrily through her teeth. Listening to Jeven's arrogant voice was a pain she wished she'd wouldn't have to suffer ever again.

"Well, no more! No longer we will we need to suffer such disgrace. No longer will we need to scrape and bow our heads to the outside masses that take our homes and rob us of our pride!" Jeven yelled charismatically, his audience cheering. "The attack against the dog-lord infestation proves that the so-called Hero of Ferelden isn't as powerful or invincible as the interlopers would have you believe."

The crowd cheered and applauded Jeven's words. The unprovoked attack that resulted in the suffering of others seemed like a victory to them. How can anyone take pleasure in such a horrible thing?

"This is merely the beginning, a stepping stone towards the future! A future where mongrels like these Fereldans will never again set foot on our shores!" Jeven shouted, his fist raised high. "With the steel we've acquired, we'll take back our place in this city. And with the magic and plans of our benefactors, we will use the Fereldan filth's own people against them, just like we did at their damned rally! They shall be a plague on themselves, just as they are on use!"

Sweet Maker, they planned to do this again? How could they do accomplish this? How could they even think of doing this to others? And who were these benefactors Jeven mentioned? This needed to be stopped before it went any further, and they needed to get some answers.

No sentries or guards posted. Either they were arrogant enough to think no one would find them, or they really wanted to Jeven spout his bullshit. This gave them a distinct advantage over the insurgents.

Aveline held her fist up, signaling her men to halt. "Everyone, wait here. Hawke and I will try to talk them down. If they won't yield, move in."

Donnic reached out to his wife, his face full of concern. "Just...just be careful, love. These men are dangerous."

"So am I." Aveline smiled confidently.

"Aye, that you are. It's why I married you." Donnic chuckled.

"Hey, far be it for me to interrupt a moment between a man and his wife, but maybe we should handle the dangerous infestation of insurgents before you two have a romantic scene together?" Varric suggested with his signature wit.

Hawk and Aveline walked in to the mine full of dangerous upstarts. Under most circumstances, just two people walking into a mine full of dangerous insurgents responsible for a devastating terrorist attack might seem suicidal, but these were not normal people. This was Guard-Captain Aveline, and the Champion of Kirkwall. For them, taking out a large group of armed radicles like this, must be Thursday.,

Aveline and Hawke shoved their way through the crowd, pushing aside anyone who stood in their way. When the Slayers realized who they were, the fire they had sputtered out.

"It's the Champion. He's here!" One of the Slayers said in shock.

"It's the Guard-Captain. Are we ready for this?" Another asked nervously.

Hawke could sense some of their resolve faltering. Just like Garth and Roland, they were mostly just young people. Couldn't have been much older than Carver when he died, and Hawke doubted any of them even held a sword before now. How could they have been warped this way?

Jeven was certainly not the man he once was. His hair was grey and brittle, his face worn and tired, and it looked like he had lost a lot of weight. Prison life must have taken a lot out of him. But for pride or vanity's sake, he still held himself with authority, something he probably felt he couldn't live without. Like the rest of the Slayers, he was wearing a set of high-quality leather armor, and armed with some very well crafted dwarven-steel daggers. He may even still knew how to use it.

"Jeven!" Aveline shouted at her disgraced predecessor. "You...disgrace yourself."

"The Fereldan bitch with the Orlesian name. And a displaced upstart who thinks himself worthy of being called Champion. Is there anyone else who so embodies how low this city has fallen?" Jeven accused hatefully.

Hawke snorted, unimpressed by Jeven's bellowing. After having to deal with Aedan Cousland, this man was nothing. "I'll let you handle him, Aveline."

"Do they know how you sacrificed your men? How you sold out everything you were supposed to stand for? How you alone disgraced your name?" Aveline denounced. "How long before you do the same to these people?"

The young Slayers looked at Jeven, wondering whether or not that was true. Would he betray them to save himself?

"Bitch! You took everything from me!" Jeven spat hatefully.

"You took it from yourself! You were supposed to protect your men and this city, but you sold them out to line your own pockets! You're not doing this because you care for this city, you're just doing to settle your own grudge. And he'll do the same to the rest of you!" Aveline turned to address all those who had gathered to hear Jeven talk. "When the storm you've all stirred gets windy, Jeven will choose himself over you every time. Do you think more blood, more murder will make this city better? It'll only create more suffering, and people like me and the Champion will hunt you down. And when that happens, Jeven will throw you on to the pyre before even thinking about testing the heat first. This isn't revolution, it's lunacy! An injury inflicted on Kirkwall! Your home, and mine!"

Some of the young recruits heard Aveline's words. Disheartened and ashamed of what they were allowing themselves to become. However, the true, hardcore, initiated members of the Slayers stayed, and were ready to put down the two objects of their hate. Jeven was enraged at the sight of Aveline robbing him of his chance to be important once again.

"I will not be left with nothing again!" Jeven growled, reaching for his daggers.

"No, you will be left with less." Aveline said calmly, unsheathing her sword.

Enraged, Jeven threw an object at Aveline from his satchel. Aveline instinctively blocked it with her shield, and it exploded on contact into a black cloud; it was a smoke bomb. Choking and blinded by the smoke, Jeven screamed in anger as pounced at the woman who robbed him of his life, his daggers ready to plunge into her filthy Fereldan face. Aveline heard Jeven's damned voice, and simply held her shield up to block his clumsy attack, the backhanded him in the side of his face with her shield, his jaw made a loud crack when it broke. Jeven stumbled backwards, his face in searing pain and spat the blood and broken teeth out of his mouth. He wasn't going to stop now. He had waited far too long for this.

Several Slayers got tried to get behind Aveline as she engaged Jeven, their swords drawn, ready to stab her in the back. Hawke charged them down with powerful shield bash, and thanks to the runes Sandal enchanted on it, the force of his attack sent all three Slayers flying into a nearby wall, breaking their necks and bodies. While Aveline was fighting Jeven, Hawke kept the other Slayers from swarming her.

The Slayers surrounded Hawke, their dwarven steel weapons eager to taste Fereldan blood. Despite being outnumbered by over a doze, Hawke stood firmly before his attackers, grinning confidently at the insurgents.

"What're you smilin' at, dog-lord? You're outnumbered and surrounded!" One of the Slayers shouted arrogantly.

"You sure about that? Why don't you look behind you?" Hawke dared.

"Ha! You really think we're that stupid?!" The Slayers laughed, so sure that Hawke was trying to pull a fast one on them.

"Don't say I didn't warn you." Hawke sighed, but the Slayers kept laughing, until an arrow shot through the back of one of their heads and out their mouths. They all looked behind them to see a smiling, heroic dwarf holding a beautiful crossbow with the full might of the Kirkwall Guard behind him, and the rest of the Champion's companions. Standing amongst them was Donnic, and he wasn't very happy to see the greatest disgrace to the Kirkwall Guard trying to kill his wife.

"For the Kirkwall Guard! Charge!" Donnic yelled furiously. He and the rest of the Guard charged into the mine with full force, ready to stand with their captain.

The guards quickly got in formation, their shields locked and their swords held out against the Slayers. The enemy, however, didn't form ranks, or even hold a decent position. They just charged at the Guards' solid phalanx formation screaming viciously and swinging their swords wildly. What the Slayers failed to realize was that no matter how good your weapon was, it was worthless if you couldn't wield it properly. Someone trained them to fight, but only as individuals, whereas the guards had been trained to fight miscreants like them as a single unit. One mind, one goal. Aveline's training would undo their enemies.

The Slayers struck their dwarven steel against the shield wall of the guards, but their clumsy attacks were deflected by the guards' discipline. Now it was their turn. In one powerful motion, as a single unit, the pushed forward and slammed the slayers with their shield wall, their shields making a resounding clang against that echoed through the mines like a brass band. Each of the slayers was knocked off their feet, each of them seeing stars and hearing bells. The guards would not let up, not after what these people had done and moved to finish them.

The so-called Slayers found themselves in a horrible position. Only now did they realize how screwed they were. In front of them was that impenetrable wall of steel the guards made, and behind them was the Champion of Kirkwall. They were doomed.

Hawke charged the slayers down, breaking their bodies with his shield and cutting them down with his sword. Some tried to fight back, but Hawke's equipment and training outstripped theirs. Their weapons shattered on his shield and armor, and Hawke's enchanted Key-Sword cut through them like a scythe through wheat. Some of the slayers tried to run, but they were cut off by the guards, and quickly were quickly run through by them. As quickly as they started, it was beginning to end.

While her friends and her men were dealing with the underlings, Aveline took on their leader. After years in prison, Jeven had lost a step or two, though Aveline doubted his martial skill was ever that great, even when he was Guard-Captain. Then as now, he was a lowdown thug relying on underhanded tricks to get what he wanted. Fighting dirty was about the only thing he could do. Aveline, on the other hand, fought to win.

Jeven saw his followers being taken down, how easily they had been beaten and any chance he could have had to gain importance again was crushed. His anger boiled over, desperately trying to kill Aveline. He could still at least take her down.

"Argh! You Fereldan bitch! You destroyed my life!" Jeven fumed, his face red with rage.

"Wrong, Jeven. You did that when you betrayed the uniform." Aveline denounced harshly.

Jeven screamed with rage and, blinded by his anger, lunged at Aveline with full force, trying to stab her in the face with both his daggers. Aveline easily deflected the wild attack. She reared back her arm and punched Jeven square in the face with her shield. Jeven stumbled backwards in a daze, but Aveline wasn't through, and proceeded to pound him mercilessly with her shield. Every hit made a sick crunching sound as she flattened his nose, busted out his teeth and jammed his eye. Only when his face was a wet, pulpy mass on his skull did Aveline finally stop beating Jeven.

The disgraced former Guard-Captain turned terrorist laid there on the dirty floor of the mine, blood and tears streaming down his broken face. His functioning eye looked at his compatriots dead on the ground, then looked back up at Aveline, still intense with anger. "Well? W-what're...koff...waiting for? You've...already taken everything else from me, may as well take my life, too."

Aveline bared her teeth at Jeven and snarled like an angry warhound, and was tempted to grant Jeven's wish and just end him right here. "You arrogant, selfish bastard! You still think you're the victim in all this. You _chose_ to be a criminal when you betrayed the guard! You chose to be a terrorist! Everything that happens to you now, is what you brought on yourself!" Aveline aimed her sword right in front of Jeven's ruined face threateningly. "I _should_ kill you, you more than deserve it. But that's not what the Guard is here for. You'll be arrested and tried for the crimes you've committed against the people of Kirkwall."

"But first you're going to give us some damned answers." Hawke spoke out sternly. He knelt down before Jeven's beaten body and forced the injured terrorist to look him in the face. "Who's really behind this, Jeven? You don't have the resources to buy such a vast amount of dwarven steel. You're not cunning enough to come up with a plan of attack like this. You're nothing more than another petty thug. So tell me, who's your boss? And what kind of mage did you use to attack the rally?"

Jeven stared at the Champion with a disgusted cringe on his face, before spitting on Hawke's armor and screamed at him furiously. "I ain't telling a thing, you hear me, ya dog-lord piece of shit!?"

Hawke calmly, coolly, grabbed a kerchief from his pocket and wiped Jeven's blood and spit off his armor, then tweaked Jeven's broken nose, making him scream in pain. "So be it. If you won't talk to us, then we'll just hand you over to Aedan Cousland. I have no doubt he can get the answers out of you, and I'm sure he'll be eager to meet with you after what you helped do to our people. Take this murdering filth away."

The guards grabbed Jeven by his arms and proceeded to drag him back to the barracks. Jeven struggled against the men holding him. His mind snapped at the prospect of once again being hauled off to prison by the very guards he once commanded. That Fereldan bitch would never turn her back on him again! Summoning what strength he had left, he ripped himself free of the guards who held him, whipped out the dagger he had hidden in his sleeve, and ran to stab that miserable woman in the back like the bitch she was...!

"Aveline!" Isabella screamed, but it was too late. Aveline didn't turn around fast enough to see Jeven's knife coming at her.

The sound of steel cutting through flesh echoed of the mine walls as fresh blood sprayed through the air. Donnic's sword ran through Jeven's neck with ease, and the terrorist just stood there hanging on the edge of his blade like a piece of meat, gurgling blood out of his mouth.

"Nobody...touches my wife!" Donnic yelled furiously. He twisted his sword and yanked it out of the side of Jeven's neck. Jeven finally fell to the floor dead, his half-decapitated head spurting blood in the dirt. Donnic looked to his wife, his anger replaced with deep concern. "Are you alright, love?"

Aveline did her best not swoon. Being rescued so dashingly by her husband was a secret fantasy of hers, but she'd rather not look like a awe-struck schoolgirl in front of her friends, least of all Isabella. Maker knows she'd never hear the end of it. "I'm...I'm fine, Donnic. Thank you."

"I'd never let anything happen to you, Aveline." Donnic said affectionately, his words making Aveline blush deeply.

"Aww. Isn't that sweet." Isabella cooed sarcastically. "You two can kiss now, if you like. I certainly wouldn't mind seeing that side of Aveline."

"Oh, shut up, whore." Aveline responded.

"As well done and romantic as your actions were, Donnic, I'm afraid this works against us." Hawke stated with a slight hint of disappointment. "With Jeven and the rest of these Slayers dead, we've got no one to give us any answers. These guys were just the muscle, not the real brains behind this operation."

"So we're back to square one again? We got nothing? Great..." Varric groaned.

"And in the meantime, the Hero's deadline is getting closer." Sebastian recalled. "If we bring him nothing, he'll bring destruction to the Gallows."

"As much as I'd like to see the Templars get what's coming to them, I don't relish the thought of seeing what Aedan can do to this city." Anders spoke. "The last time he charged a city, he ended a Blight."

"Well, the only guy who could tell us anything just died, so I guess we're all buggered." Isabella said blithely.

"I...I can give you the answers you're looking for." Answered a soft, meek voice. One of the slayers walked back into the mine with tentative steps. The guards moved to arrest her, but Aveline signaled them not to. The slayer took off her hood revealing her youthful, blonde appearance. Hawke was shocked to see how young she was. She was even younger than Bethany was when they fled Ferelden. Her heart-shaped face turned pale at the sight of so much blood, and Hawke doubted she ever even held a sword before today. What was someone so young doing here?

"Who are you, young lady?" Aveline asked.

"M-my name is Sabrina." The young lady answered timidly. "I...I can tell you what you want to know. But first, I there's something I need to know. What happened to Garth and Randall?"

That caught them by surprise. Obviously, she was someone who cared about them.

"How do you know them, Sabrina?" Hawke asked.

"Garth is my brother, and Randall is his best friend." Sabrin answered. "They both left before the attack, and I haven't seen either of them since. I'm so worried about them."

Hawke sighed deeply. Despite what those two had done or may have done, they left behind people who cared about them. They were both so young, and made terrible choices, now those who cared about them would be left with nothing but heartbreak an pain.

"Sabrina...I'm sorry to say this, but both of them are dead." Hawke informed sadly.

Shock and pain gripped Sabrina as she fell to her knees and buried her face in her hands as pained sobs wracked her body. "Oh, Maker! Wh-what...what am I going to tell our mother?!"

Donnic knelt beside Sabrina and placed his arm on her consolingly. "I'm sorry Miss Sabrina. I knew Randall and your brother. They were good lads."

"You...you're Donnic Hendir, right? The guardsman? You're from our neighborhood, Mother used to talk about you." Sabrina sniffed, trying so hard to come to grips with deaths of her brother and friend.

"I remember your momma and your papa, too." Donnic smiled in an attempt to calm her down. "Sabrina, Garth and Randall were always good boys. What happened to them? Why would all of you join something as terrible as this?"

Sabrina sniffed and wiped the tears from her eyes, her face veiled with sadness and shame. "Our father was killed two years ago when the Qunari attacked. Garth and Randall tried to find work to provide for us and our mother, but no one would take them as apprentices, nor would they hire them as laborers when they had Fereldan refugees who worked for so little. It was the same thing for a lot of people in our neighborhood, throughout Lowtown."

"I'll be that made them angry. After losing so much when the Qunari invaded and then not being able to provide for their own family?" Hawke asked.

"You wouldn't believe how angry." Sabrina responded. "Garth and Randa were both so furious. They couldn't understand why it was so hard for us who were born in this city were being pushed aside, and after what the Qunari did, it made them mad at outsiders."

"Then Jeven and the Slayers showed up?"

"Yes. They started showing up in Lowtown, talking about how the people of this city had been wronged, how we deserved more. The things they said gave us sense of pride again. Then, Jeven gave them they wanted even more: someone to blame." Sabrina continued. "They started talking about how outsiders were corrupting the city, how we needed to throw them out by force, and how the guards were against us."

"Why did you, your brother and your friend join up with them?"

"Garth and Randall wanted to feel proud again, feel like they were doing something for this city, protect it. I only joined to see if I could watch out for them. The things these people said, the things they wanted to do...I wanted to leave, but my brother said there was no going back. That we needed to make a stand if our family was going to have a future." The tears welled back up in Sabrina's eyes, remembering her brother's words became so painful now that he was gone. "What kind of a future can we have if all we do is kill and hurt other people? When Garth told me he was going to watch the attack on the Fereldan refugees, he said it with such pleasure, it scared me. I didn't even recognize him any more..."

"Do you know Randall ended up at the Hanged Man?" Hawked asked. If it hadn't been for Randall's drunken ravings, they never would have known about the attack or found the trail they were on.

"Because Randall was jealous!" Sabrina wept bitterly. "He wanted so bad to watch those people get hurt, but when Garth got picked over him, Randall stormed off saying he wasn't afraid of you or the Hero. That he could face you down and stand for the cause."

Hawke gently lifted Sabrina's face, making her look him in the eyes. "Sabrina, I need you to tell me exactly what the Slayers are planning, and how they intend to accomplish it."

Sabrina wiped the tears from her eyes once more and got a grip on herself. "You were right about Jeven. He was just a spokesman, telling the recruits what they wanted to hear. The real one coordinating them is a man named Renault. He was the one who trained the recruits and made sure the plans were carried out."

There was that name again. Renault, just like Barkas Cadash mentioned. "What can you tell me about this man?"

"He's Orlesian, I could tell that much. I think he might have been a Chevalier or a noble, judging from the way he acted. he trained all of them how to fight, and everyone hung on his every word like he was speaking for Andraste. He scared me, scared everyone around him." Sabrina confessed with fear in her voice. "If anyone truly believed in this cursed cause, it was him. He spoke of Fereldans like they're a cancer to be cut out, like they're worse than the Blight. And those eyes of his...they were so hollow and dark, like they had no soul behind them."

"How did he manage to turn someone into a living bomb?" Anders asked earnestly.

Sabrina's eyes went wide with shock and horror at that question. "What? That's what they did? Oh, Sweet Maker, please forgive me. I didn't know anything about that, I swear I didn't!"

"Do you know what this Renault plans to do next, Sabrina"

Sabrina's face twisted with sorrow and guilt for any part she played in this madness. "All I know, is that what happened this morning was merely the begining, a test. They plan to do something bigger, kill a lot more people with the same method on a larger scale."

Use the same method? That would require a great many more people being turned into living bombs. How would they do that? What methods were they using? Were they going to turn themselves into suicide-bombs?

"Sabrina, please, is there anything you can tell us about what they were doing? Any other crimes they were committing? Anything you tell us might help us stop this." Hawke begged.

"I...I know they were hiring someone to take Fereldan refugees from Darktown away." Sabrina remembered. "They were paying a slaver to lure them away with the promise of finding them paying work to help their families but just took them away."

"Sean's wife, she told me the same thing. That Sean said he found a job that could help him provide for his family. That's when he disappeared!" Anders recalled, angry that this was how they captured and murdered a good. man.

"They must be using this racket to finance their operations." Aveline said, outraged that this was happening under her nose. "Lure people with the offer of a good job, then sell them into slavery."

"These Slayers are worse scum than I realized." Fenris growled with disgust. His own anger piqued realizing that slavers were involved. "This is how slavers back in Tevinter capture new blood to feed the Imperium's need for more slaves."

"This is the exact same shit Castillon pulled on those Fereldans he captured from Denerim." Isaballe pointed out, knowing full well the lows some criminals will go for a profit.

"This is horrible!" Merrill spoke, completely appalled. "You can't just take people and sell them like they're goats or thing. We have to stop this."

"They're are all kind of criminals in the world. Some not so bad, and others are really bad. But slavers? They're as low as you can get." Varric commented insightfully. "How else could these bastards get a hold of good dwarven steel?"

"No. I don't think they were selling those people for money." Sabrina spoke out, trying to clarify what was happening. "The slaver didn't pay them for the people that were kidnapped, _they_ paid him to hold them. Someone else paid for the weapons."

"Not exactly standard procedure for slavers, but most of them will do anything for gold." Isabella commented.

Hawke thought for a moment, trying to piece this all together. An Orlesian Chevalier who hated Fereldans who trained the Slayers to be soldiers of fanaticism. A slaver meant to hold kidnapped Fereldan refugees. And somehow, they were going to turn even more of them into human bombs. Something was connecting and coordinating them as a part of a huge design. It couldn't be a coincidence that all this happened just as the Hero of Ferelden arrived, somehow he was connected to this. Hawke needed to find a lead that connected all of this and follow it to where it led. There was still one more connection to follow.

"Sabrina, I need you to think very hard on this, even the smallest detail could help me stop any more death from happening." Hawke beseeched. "Do you have any idea at all who financed this operation? Who purchased these weapons? Anything you can tell me will help."

Sabrina paused for a moment and concentrated. She desperately searched the recesses of her mind for even smallest clue that might stop all this madness. "I...I recall another man who was there when we bought the weapons from the Carta. I didn't see his face, he was wearing a hood, but Jeven seemed to recognize him. Said he didn't think the two of them would ever work together. He said a name, but I don't know anything else. Vanard? Jeven said his name was Vanard."

That name stirred up a storm in the back of Hawke's mind. Now he finally had something to help him connect all the dots in this puzzle. "Sabrina, thank you. This is exactly the need I've been looking for." Hawke reached into his pouch and gave a handful of sovereigns to Sabrina. "Here take this money, and use it to help your family. Use it so you never have to come back to dark places like this."

Sabrina never dreamed of seeing so much money, let alone able to hold it in her hand. "Even after what my brother did, you'd still be willing to help my family?"

"Someone needs to look after the people of Kirkwall, all of them. And I think you're family has been through enough pain." Hawke smiled kindly.

Sabrina looked up at the Champion in awe and was overwhelmed with such emotion, that she couldn't help but weep at his generosity. "Andraste bless you, Champion. Bless you and all you've done for this city."

"Donnic, take her home please." Aveline asked her husband. Seeing how much this young lady had been through, all of them couldn't help but want to help her, even Isabella. Perhaps this small act of kindness would be the start of a new movement that would help heal the wounds of this city.

**~XoXoXo~**

Everyone made their way to the city surface, a profound sense of determination in Hawke's stride. There was such a fire in him, his companions couldn't keep pace with him. The information Sabrina told him exactly where he needed to go.

"Hawke! You know where you're going?" Varric huffed, trying to keep up with him.

"Did that name Sabrina give you mean something?" Anders asked.

"It gave me exactly what I needed." Hawke answered vigorously, not bothering to stop and explain. "We need to get Hightown right now. There's someone there who needs my boot in his ass!"

"Ooh, Hawke, I love it when you're aggressive like that." Isabella purred lasciviously.

"Well, whatever we're doing, we'd better do it now." Anders urged. "Sun's starting to set, so that gives us twenty-four hours before Aedan goes on his murder spree."

Hawke had a name, and with it, the motivation and means to that made this entire nightmare possible. Unrighteous men who committed villainous deeds were now carrying out acts of terror and evil, as if they were the ones who had been wronged, like this was some kind of justice. They had brought destruction and disgrace upon this city, and Hawke would hunt them down one by one if he had to. He would carry out true justice on them for the crimes they inflicted on his people and on this city. Hawke would not allow anyone to harm this city any more, even Aedan Cousland.

**Author's Note:**

**Alright, so here's my latest chapter. Sorry it took me over two months to get it out.**

**I've been super busy lately and all my free time was really limited. And with the holidays coming up, I expect I'll still be busy.**

**I'm committed to finishing this arc and this story, so I ask that you continue to give me your patience.**

**The other reason why it took me so long to finish this chapter was to finish all those chapter extensions I said I was going to do.**

**The extended chapters are Chapters 1, 2, 3, 10, 13, 17, 18, 19, 20.**

**Some are more extended than others, but you'll need to go back and read them again to find out which ones.**

**Please review and tell me what you think.**


	42. The Untold Chapters: Part IV

**The Untold Chapters: Part IV**

Aedan scowled at the Chantry's northern window like it had offended him. He watched the sun slowly pass through the sky as slow and as painful as a prolonged execution. The scowl on his face was nothing compared to the cauldron of dark feelings boiling inside him. Rage, aggression, anticipation, but most of all...shame. There was no greater wound that an enemy could inflict on a warrior than shame. Aedan came to this city-state at the behest of his king to bring their wayward countrymen who had been stuck in this city back home. This was usually a task suited to Arl Teagan, but he had his hands full with Orlais, and Alistair wanted Aedan to accomplish this because he knew Aedan would act as a protector for their people, to keep them from harm and bring them home safely. In that task, Aedan had failed miserably, a mark of shame for any military officer.

The Free Marchers were notorious for their xenophobic attitudes and disdain for outsiders, but Aedan didn't anticipate them to be capable of such violence. It was why King Alistair sent Aedan to bring their people home to begin with. But instead of actually protecting them, dozens of innocent people were maimed and murdered under his watch, and there was nothing he could have done to stop it. He came here to help his people, but couldn't even do that. Their blood was still on his armor. And as if to rub salt in his still fresh wounds, Aedan receives word that Petra, a mage under his command, and a student of his good friend Wynne, was take by this city's Templars. That was the breaking point for Aedan. His blood screamed for retribution, to visit the same agony on the bastards who committed these crimes against his people with his bare hands, make the enemies of his people beg for the mercy they didn't show their victims. But he couldn't, not yet.

Aedan owed a tremendous debt to the Hawke family, and gave his word not to interfere with his investigation, but neither could he just wait while Petra remained unsafe. So he gave an ultimatum, a more generous offer he had never given. If Hawke couldn't track down Petra, or prove to him that the Templars were responsible for her kidnapping, he was going to go to the Gallows and rip tear down every stone to find her. The time limit was up at sunset tomorrow. And while he was waiting, all he could do was hope that Petra would remain unharmed, while he stewed in his own rage, lamenting his disgrace.

"Well, well, well! As I live and breathe, it Is you, Lord Cousland." A familiar and jovial voice laughed behind Aedan.

Aedan turned around and was genuinely surprised to see one of the familiar faces that traveled with him almost throughout the entire Blight. Seeing such an old and familiar face brought a sense of joy to Aedan that momentarily stifled his anger.

"Bodahn? Ha-ha, Bodahn! It is you!" Aedan laughed, shaking the old dwarven merchant's hand heartily. He had not expected see such a friendly face in this city.

"Enchantment!" Sandal clapped happily, joyous to see his former benefactor.

"So, this is where you've been all these years?" Aedan asked, patting Sandal on the head.

"Oh, yes. Not long after we left Ferelden, the Champion, Maker bless him, saved Sandal's life. I owed him a great debt, and my boy and I have been in his service ever since." Bodhan explained proudly. "Isn't that right, Sandal?"

"Enchantment." Sandal confirmed happily.

"Is that so? Tell me, what kind of man is the Champion of Kirkwall." Aedan inquired curiously. He wanted to know more about the protector of this city.

"Oh, well, he's a fine man, to be sure. The finest in the city, to tell the truth." Bodahn bragged on his master's behalf. "I don't think this city would still be standing if it weren't for him."

"Yes, I heard the stories, but rumors are almost always ten percent truth and ninety percent bullcrap. Is the Champion really such a hero to this city?"

"A greater hero in Kirkwall has never existed." Bodahn answered proudly. "In a lot of ways, he's a lot like you, Ser Aedan."Aedan's eyebrow quirked curiously at Bodahn's proud statement. He very much doubted he and the Champion could have much in common. "He's the sort of man who can't stand to see an injustice, and will go out of his way to help people, even if he has nothing to gain. And he's done everything in his power to maintain the safety of his home, this city. Yet, no matter how dire things get, or whoever is standing against him, the Champion never compromises his honor. I'd say the two of you have a lot in common."

Aedan was somewhat surprised by the comparisons Bodahn made between him and Ser Hawke. Indeed, there were similarities between them in their actions and the apparent values they held. The things they had done for their respective homelands could not but questioned, but nonetheless, they were still completely different people. Hawke is a defender of his home, while Aedan was a weapon for his country. Still, Aedan could do nothing but respect a kindred spirit, and would hold to his promise. For Leandra's sake, he could do nothing less, for it was quite possible that without the Hawke family, Aedan would never have been able to save his country.

"And you serve him willingly, Bodahn?"

"Willingly, faithfully and proudly." Bodahn smiled broadly. "One of the proudest things I've ever done in me life."

"Enchantment!" Sandal clapped in agreement with his father.

Aedan couldn't help but smile at the dwarven father and son. Very few people understood the honor and fulfilment that could be found in service. Most either were either incapable of understanding this, or they couldn't find a cause or a person worth serving. It would seem that Bodahn and Sandal found another worthy of their loyalty, which Aedan knew was no small thing. Perhaps they did more in common than he thought.

"Well, Ser Aedan, it's been grand to see you again, but now it's time for us to be headin' back. It's Sandal's suppertime. Come along, my boy." Bodahn shook Aedan's hand once more before departing with his son.

"Enchantment." Sandal said happily, waving Aedan goodbye as he walked with his father.

Most people thought wisdom could only be found by those who spend their whole lives studying books and scrolls, like scholars or Chantry members, and thought that because they were educated it made them wise. Wisdom came from those who lived life, wholly, bravely, and without regret. And as far as Aedan was concerned, Bodahn was one of the wisest people he knew. If Bodahn knew the true worth and ability of the Champion, and not just what the minstrels sing, then maybe Garret Hawke could solve this conspiracy against their people. But Aedan was still a man of his word, and the Champion had until sunset tomorrow, or heads were going to roll, as he promised.

**~XoXoXo~**

Hawke and his company arrived at one of Hightown's luxuries mansions, this one was more opulent than most, obviously the home of someone very powerful in this city. There were guards posted outside the door and up on the balcony, all of them heavily armed and armored. This was a good sign. It meant the man Hawke was looking for was inside.

"Hawke, are you alright? What are we doing here?" Aveline asked concerned. Hawke was visibly disturbed and angered when Sabrina told him that name.

"You remember that elven girl Lia?" Hakwe asked.

"Yes, of course. She's not someone I could easily forget." Aveline answered. She remembered that young lady very well. "Lia recently joined the Guard, with you as her inspiration. We rescued her from that serial killer who was preying on elven children, and then you killed him. What was his name? Kelder?"

"That's right. And do you remember who sent us after Kelder in the fist place?"

Aveline's eyes went as wide a dinner plates. Suddenly she realized how the puzzle pieces fit together, and wondered how she could have been so blind. "Son of a bitch!"

Hawke nodded his head in agreement, his face almost as grim as Fenris'. "That's right; Magistrate Vanard, Kelder Vanard's father."

Suddenly so much made sense. If there was ever a reason for any man to bear anyone a grudge, it was a father against his son's killer. Magistrate Vanard hired Hawke to retrieve a criminal who had hidden in a monster infested cave, but failed to mention that the criminal was an insane serial killer of elven children, and that the killer was his own son. Upon learning the truth, Hawke executed Kelder in those caves, knowing that his political father would never carry out to true justice, and to avenge all the lives and families Kelder destroyed thanks to his father's negligence.

"After Kelder was killed and revealed as a serial killer, the scandal ruined his father's political career and he was practically exiled into forced retirement." Aveline recalled.

"That's it? No charges for criminal negligence or being held responsible for letting his insane son kill innocent people?" Anders asked outraged.

Aveline shared Anders' disdain. "The Viscount's Office didn't want to seem more incompetent than it already did, and I was not yet in a position to demand a more severe punishment. After that, he just faded from public eye."

"Well, it seems now he's had ample opportunity to plot his revenge." Fenris added.

"Talk about past actions coming back to bite you in the ass." Varric sighed. "So, how you wanna handle this, Hawke?"

Hawke looked at the guarded manor and took note of the well armed mercenaries guarding it for a moment, accessing his options. "Hmm. You know, I think I'll just go knock on the door."

**~XoXoXo~**

The heavy stone doors of the manor flung open with a loud crash while the two mercenaries who were supposed to be guarding the entryway were thrown through it and landed inside the manor. Hawke and his company strolled in like they owned the place, with their weapons drawn.

"Andraste's tits!" One of the mercenaries cursed, he and his compatriots moved in to surround the intruders.

There was a quite a significant number of them, all well armed and armored. This might make for some decent exercise.

"What is the meaning of this?!" A familiar, arrogant voice demanded. Hawke looked up to the balcony of the second floor and saw the object of anger, former Magistrate Vanard. The disgraced politician was certainly surprised by this intrusion but he tried to maintain his composure. "Champion? How dare you?! And the Guard-Captain, too? What gives you the right to just barge into my house!? What do you want?"

Hawke answered the question by pointing right back at Vanard with his sword. "We're here for you."

"What gives you the right to finance terrorists to attack unarmed civilians?!" Aveline demanded.

"Tch. Terrorists? Me? I have no idea what you're talking about." Vanard scoffed.

"There's no point in denying it, old man. We have evidence and witnesses that tie you to a mutual friend. Former Guard-Captain Jeven." Hawke revealed, half-bluffing. "And a disgraced social pariah like you won't have the luxury of political bootlicks to save you from the consequences this time."

Vanard scowled furiously, "What are you louts waiting for? Do what I pay you to, and kill them!"

The mercenary captain signaled his men to attack. "Right, let's get this done."

"Wait..." Hawke implored the mercenary captain. "Why don't you take a moment to think and ask yourself if this is really a smart career move you're about to make Do you know what he's done?"

"He's paid us to guard whatever he tells us to guard, and kill whoever he tells us to kill. That is all we need to know." The mercenary captain responded.

"That gold he paid you will be a very small comfort when you're lying dead on the floor in your own blood or being hanged by your entrails on a flagship back to Ferelden, because that's exactly what's going to happen to all of you, if you don't stand down." Hawke warned seriously.

The mercenary captain and his men paused for a moment. All of them had heard how the Champion singlehandedly slaughtered his way through an entire army of Qunari before killing the Arishok with his bare hands. Would he really visit such a fate on them?

"You...you'd really do such a thing, Champion?" The captain asked, obviously nervous.

"Me? No, I don't have the stomach for such violence. But Aedan Cousland? Now that's another matter entirely." The whole building went as quiet and as cold as a tomb in winter when Hawke mentioned that name, as if everyone in this building was afraid of even hearing it. "Your employer paid the men who attacked the Hero of Ferelden's rally, killing and injuring many of our people. What do you think he's going to do to Vanard? What do you think he'll do to you if you help him?"

"Don't listen to this filthy Fereldan! Do as I tell you, and kill them!" Vanard ordered.

The mercenary captain looked up to his employer then back at Hawke, conflicted over what mattered more to him and his men: their reputation or their lives. "You know what? Screw this. If you or the Hero of Ferelden want him, you can have him. He's not paying us enough to put up with this kind of bullshit."

The mercenaries wisely sheathed their weapons and proceeded to make their way out of the manor, despite Vanard's cursing at them.

"You miserable cowards! Come back here! Don't you turn your backs on me, I paid you a bloody fortune!" Vanard spat at them.

"There's not enough gold in Thedas to make us fight off both the Champion of Kirkwall _and_ the Hero of Ferelden for a prick like you." The captain shouted back. "You made your own bed, now you can sleep in it."

Varric couldn't help but laugh as he watched all these armed tough guys walked out on their employer. Hawke's mastery of the spoken word was almost as good as his. "Hot damn, Hawke! Using the Hero of Ferelden as a death threat really works wonders. I'll have to remember that."

Vanard gritted his teeth as furious veins pulsed on his head, glowering at the miserable wretches in his house. "Grr! I won't submit to the likes of you! You will never get me to...!"

"Isabella."

"Ugh, thank you." Isabella sighed and threw one of her daggers at Vanard, embedding it deeply in his thigh. None of them really wanted to hear his angry rant.

Vanard collapsed to the ground, hollering in pain and vainly tried to pull the dagger out of his leg, which only caused him further agony. Wasting no time, Aveline grabbed Vanard by his neck and threw him into a chair, but left the dagger stuck in his thigh. Hawke grabbed a chair of his own and sat in front of him, ready to question him.

"Here's how it's going to go, Vanard: you tell me exactly what I want to know, every minute detail, and I promise this will not be any more unpleasant than it needs to be." Hawke dictated sternly. "If you do not cooperate, things will get very ugly for you."

Vanard response to Hawke's negotiating was to spit hatefully on his chestplate. "Flames take you, and the rest of the Fereldan vermin like you! You'll get nothing out of me, do you hear! I will tell you nothing!"

Hawke's face grew dark and grim and an angry fire began to flicker in his eyes. Wasting no more time and words, he grabbed the dagger Isabella left in Vanard's leg and twisted it, very, very hard. An agonized scream trapped itself in Vanard's throat and searing tears burned his eyes while Hawke grinded the blade through the muscle and bone of his leg.

"Maybe I didn't make myself clear. I'm being pressed for time here, so I want answers, and I want them now!" Hawke demanded furiously, twisting the knife back and forth with every word. "I want names and locations. Where are you holding the other Fereldan refugees? How were you able to turn them into living explosives? Who's Renault? Is he the one you're working for?"

"Him? But I thought he was the one planning all this?" Sebastian asked.

"His money helped finance this, but I think you and I both know that a neophyte like him don't have the knowhow to plan an attack like this, isn't that right, Vanard?"

"It would take someone who actually knows military tactics and the psychology of warfare to plan an attack like this, which is something our dear former magistrate knows nothing of." Hawke reasoned. "But you had direct contact with the one who planned it all, someone who knew to seek you out, and knew that you would give your assistance and wouldn't think twice about financing terrorists, because it suited your agenda."

"I...I have every right to despise you! To take revenge!" Vanard gritted painfully through his teeth. "You murdered my son!"

The back of Hawke's mailed hand smacked the arrogant prick across the face, busting out several of his teeth. "Don't act like you're or your son were victims you selfish shit! How many innocent children did you let your son murder because you were too stupid and proud to get him help?! He had the excuse of being insane, you're a murderer by choice! Now, tell me what I want to know, or you're going to suffer far more than Kelder did."

Vanard laughed vainly through his bloody mouth, spitting his teeth out, mocking Hawke. "You honestly think I'd tell you anything or betray Renault? There's nothing you can do! She will punish all your kind..."

"She? She, who?" Hawke demanded, his curiosity piqued.

Vanard realized his mistake, letting his own words slip. "I have nothing more to say to you! Do you what you will, I won't tell you anything."

"Fine." Hawke socked Vanard in the face, breaking his nose and the rest of his front teeth. "I'm done with you, anyway. We'll just hand you over to Aedan Cousland, I'm sure he can get the answers out of you."

"Trust me, the Hero will take what he wants from this bastard, then give him exactly what he deserves." Anders scoffed in disgust.

Fenris and Aveline grabbed Vanard by his arms and yanked him out of the seat. He began screaming in horrible pain, like someone started burning him with a branding iron.

"Oh, grow a pair, human!" Fenris cursed disdainfully. "There's no point in crying now, otherwise you should have talked."

"We barely even touched you, you little girl." Aveline commented.

Vanard fell to his knees, then on to his back, writhing in agony, his screaming intensifying. He was clawing at his chest like something was crawling inside him. "Eeeigh! This isn't what she promised!"

Anders rushed over to Vanard to see what was wrong with him. A man his age, under this much stress, a heart-attack wasn't unusual. But this didn't seem like a heart-attack or even a stroke, this was something else entirely. The apostate mage ripped Vanard's shirt and revealed the cause of his pain. A massive growth beneath the skin of his chest, the size of a fist with sickly green veins surrounding it, and pulsating like a second heart. And it was getting bigger.

"Sweet Maker!" Aveline gasped in horror.

"Holy shit!" Varric screamed.

"He's a bomb!" Anders yelled.

"Fenhedis'lasa!" Merrill cried out.

Without thinking, or wasting any word, Hawke plunged the curved sickle end of his sword into the unstable tumor growing in Vanard's chest, sticking it straight through his heart, killing both him and the explosive growth in his torso. Everyone held their breath and didn't feel safe to breath again until after the grotesque mass stopped pulsing, and shrunk back into nothing inside Vanard's dead body.

"Andraste's flaming knickers, I think I'm going to be sick." Isabella groaned, a sickly look on her face like she was going to puke.

"Think I'll join you, Rivaini." Varric said, his face looking a little green.

"Just what the fuck was that?" Aveline asked. She wasn't a woman easily disturbed, but what just transpired obviously shocked her.

"I'd say it was the same thing they did to Sean. The same kind of magic they used to turn him into a living bomb." Anders surmised. "Good thinking on how to stop it, Hawke. Entropic magic feeds on the life force of its victims, and by killing the host, you neutralized the bomb."

"Actually, that was a gamble." Hawke admitted. "Either killing him would stop the bomb, or I would have just set it off. It was a fifty/fifty chance."

"They did this to one of their own allies? What kind of evil are we chasing after?" Sebastian asked aghast.

"The kind that don't want any witnesses or loose ends." Hawke answered, observing the now inert black mass in Vanard's chest and the agonized, bug-eyed expression gripping his dead face. "This was an insurance policy, to make sure he didn't say anything, and to destroy any evidence that might be here."

"Yeah? Well, I'd say it worked." Varric, his face back to its normal color. "Now we've lost our only lead to these assholes."

"Hm. Maybe not." Hawke disagreed. "The blast that was supposed to happen was meant to kill Vanard and all of us, but I think it was also meant to destroy any evidence Vanard might have had, to stop anyone else from picking up the trail."

"Oh! So you think that whoever's really behind all this is getting scared, that we're on the right trail." Varric realized, that roguish grin on his face.

"Exactly. Everyone, look around for anything that might give any clue as to what Vanard's been up to." Hawke instructed. "He was a politician, and they are creatures of habit. He's got have a journal, a ledger, maybe even corresponding letters. There has to be something here."

Everyone did as Hawke instructed and began tearing through Vanard's office, his library, even his bedroom, looking for anything that could give them a clue about his accomplices. So far, the weren't finding anything.

"Aha! Over here, Hawke." Isabella called, signaling him to come over to her. There was a portrait of a younger Vanard in his office, obviously made back when he was a magistrate. Isabella took it down and revealed a safe behind it. "Why is it crooked politicians, shady businessmen and wealthy crime lords always hide their dirty deeds behind elaborate self-portraits?"

"Heh. Bartrand had one of those, several actually." Varric chuckled. "Apparently, they're considered a status symbol by those on the opposite side of the law."

"And Vanard didn't even have the professional courtesy to even make it a challenge." Isabella said as she disappointedly and deftly turned the tumblers in the safe and popped it open. She reached inside and handed the contents to Hawke with a wink and a smile. "Here you are, Hawke."

Hawke flipped through the papers, quickly glancing over each of them and dissecting their importance. "Some of these are bank account numbers, fund requisitions. Looks like Vanard had been embezzling money from the city's coffers before he was removed from office."

"Bastard." Aveline cursed. "He let's his murderous son walk free _while_ stealing from the city he's supposed to serve? Maybe it would have been better if we killed them both years ago."

"Well, his corruption may be the key to stopping this conspiracy. Some silver lining there." Hawke commented, still looking through the papers. "Here, look at this; a journal. Might be just what we're looking for."

Hawke's eyes intently scrolled over every word, taking in everything that Vanard had written in his private journal. This went on for about five minutes, until Hawke finally found what he was looking for in this book. It seemed he found something. "According to his journal, Vanard remained bitter and resentful, thinking that he and his son were the victims of _'Fereldan stupidity and interference'_, that it was my fault that he fell in disgrace."

"How can he think such a thing? All those poor children..." Merrill asked, unable to understand something so gruesome.

"Typical human noble." Fenris hissed under his breath.

"The guilty always place the blame on others." Sebastian stated.

"What else does it say, Hawke?" Anders asked.

Hawke held his thumb between the pages to not lose his place and read from the journal's entries. "Er, let's see. According to this, about a year ago, a tall, hooded figure approached him at his house. Despite being on in his years, he possessed a powerful presence, like every word he spoke was a command that demanded respect. Judging from his accent, he was from the empire. He had a gruesome scar on his face as if someone or something tried to tear that side of face of his skull. He introduced himself as someone who hated the Fereldan filth as much as I do, and offered me a chance to get revenge on the one who ruined my life, and to take justice for his son."

"Think this could be that Renault guy we've been hearing about?" Varric questioned. "He seems to fit the description from what we've been learning about our mystery commander."

"We still don't know anything significant about this man." Aveline reminded.

Hawke scoffed and glared at the journal angrily. "Hmph. This journal doesn't get into a whole lot of specifics, mostly just some selfish rants about how Vanard was finally going to get justice for what happened to him. However, there's a passage here...'After moving the necessary funds, we handed the captured assets over to the Antivan pirate.' I thought it was odd that we were paying the slaver to merely hold the prisoners, but Renault assured me that our mysterious leader had specific designs for these people. Castillon would make sure they were kept safe until it was time for their purpose to be fulfilled."

A sudden wave of outrage and desire for blood swept through Hawke and his companions at the mention of that name.

"Castillon?! I should have known that Antivan bastard would have been tied to all this." Isabella hissed.

"I knew it was a mistake to let that slaving piece of trash live, Hawke." Fenris criticized through his teeth. He should have followed his instincts and killed that slaver when he had the chance.

"Letting such people go free is never a wise decision. How many people did we help hurt by letting him go?" Aveline asked, feeling guilt and anger for not bringing Castillon in, all so Isabella could have her damned ship.

"Well, now we've got a chance to correct that mistake." Hawke stated as fact, staring at the page in his hand. "There's a map here, the location of where the exchange went down. If we hurry, Castillon might still be there, along with all the refugees they kidnapped."

"I know this location! It's a cave out on the Wounded Coast." Isabella declared. "It's a favorite spot for smugglers when they want to hide their loot, a perfect place for hiding slaves."

"Mythal, if we get there in time, maybe we can save them before they do this to them." Merrill said hopefully, looking at Vanard's body with fright.

"We have no time to waste, let's get there now." Fenris said grimly yet eager to spill more slaver blood.

**Soon, on the Wounded Coast...**

The Wounded Coast had aptly earned it's name from back when the Tevinter Imperium ruled its shores. Sheer cliffs, powerful currents, jagged rocks, many many were sailors have met their ends to these dangers, where the waters become their grave and the crabs their only companions. However, not all dangers along this coast were found merely from the geography of this region. Pirates, smugglers and slavers infested this region like rats in a sewer. There were many caves and hiding places to lay low in and stash their ill-gotten goods. Aveline had done her best to smoke this places out, but there were still many here. Thanks to Vanard's map and Isabella's knowledge of both Castillon and the region, Hawke and his company were able to track down the cavern hat the Antivan slaver was using to hold the Fereldan refugees Vanard and his conspirators had kidnapped.

They made their way to the base's entrance marked on the map. It looked like a small mineshaft, or a crevice amongst the rocks, perfectly hidden from the naked eyes. They probably wouldn't have noticed the entrance at all if it hadn't been for the armed guards standing around it, wearing what must have been Antivan leather armor, judging from the distinct smell. There were only three of them standing guard, so Hawke and the others wasted no time and dispatched them without so much as a word or sound.

One by one, they squeezed into the narrow crevice and followed its path underground. Varric grumbled to himself that he hoped that this path wouldn't somehow lead into the Deep Roads. Fortunately for the residential storyteller, it did not lead to the Deep Roads, where darkspawn and nugs roam. Instead, it led to a vast cavern carved within one of the cliffs of the Wounded Coast and hidden by the jagged rocks. This cave was so big it actually had a port inside it, except it had no ship tied to it. Strange.

"Aww, now there's a sad sight to behold." Isabella sighed with disappointment. "A lovely, well hidden port, where you could stash any kind of loot, and no ship here to enjoy it. It's like seeing a cobra with no venom."

"You don't think your deep fascination with ships isn't a little unhealthy, Rivaini?" Varric pointed out.

"I'm a pirate, Varric. Being obsessed with ships is in the job description." Isabella rebutted. "Besides, don't you think your obsession with your crossbow is unhealthy?"

"Only to other people, never to me." Varric chuckled.

"Instead of admiring inanimate objects, maybe you two want to focus on the task at hand." Aveline reprimanded.

Everyone hid behind the large rocks in the cavern and clung to the shadows, so as to not alert the slavers. There were at least fifty men standing guard, and there, on the other side of the cavern was a large holding area, where many of the missing refugees were being held. They were all shoved into cells smaller than a dog kennel to keep them from making any kind attempt to escape.

"Please, ser. I have two daughters who need me!" A woman begged in her cell.

"Shut up, woman! You'll not be going anywhere or seeing anyone soon." One of the Antivan jailors barked.

"For the love of Andraste, at least let the children go!" Another prisoner begged behind bars. "Have mercy, they don't deserve this."

"I'm afraid this isn't about _deserve_. In this business, it never is. It's all just business, and you just happened to be the wrong people at the wrong time." A familiar, lilting Antivan accent answered. It was Castillon himself, coming in by a small paddle boat to the port. While he maintained his businessman composure, some of his men didn't look very happy.

"Men, whatever could be the matter? You have the same face my mother had whenever she was about to scold me." Castillon inquired, noticing the displeased looks his men had.

"Captain Castillon, ser, we do not mean to seem discouraging," One of the slaver's answered the employer. "but the loss of the ship to that Rivaini pirate wench, it is a crippling blow to our operations."

A confident chuckle erupted from Castillon's throat and waved off his underling's concerns. "A minor setback, and a necessary sacrifice to keep our activities secret from the authorities of this city."

"Maybe so, but I still standby my earlier suggestion and say we should sell this people quickly and acquire a new ship." The lieutenant insisted.

"And make off with another's merchandise? Tsk, tsk, tsk. An Antivan gentleman never goes back on his word." Castillon chided. "With the money these people are paying us, and what they will pay when the job is done, we'll be able to a buy a whole fleet of ships. Besides, you heard about the attack done in Lowtown this morning, yes? I do not think these are people we want to cheat. When they've come to collect their merchandise and pay us, we will sail back to Antiva City and resume our business as usual."

Hawke had seen and heard enough from the pieces of human filth. He could not allow these dirtbags to succeed in their mission, and had to save these people. First they needed a plan. If it was the Hero handling this, he'd probably just charge all these slavers down and skin them alive with his bare hands, but unfortunately, the Hero was not here. The ten of them could easily wipe out all fifty of these slaving scum, but it was always better to attack with a good plan.

Merrill, Sebastian and Varric would sneak up the nearby outcropping to give them cover fire, while Isabella would sneak in through the shadows and dirk as many of them as she could from behind. Anders, Fenris and Aveline would go with Hawke to take this bastards head on. And the best part was...they had the element of surprise on their side.

Everyone silently got into position, waiting for Hawke's signal to begin the onslaught. This was almost too perfect a situation. Castillon and his men were too busy thinking about the money Venard paid them or whining about losing their ship to even be aware of their presence. Everything was perfect, until...

"Achoo!" Hawke sneezed loudly, giving their presence away to the slavers.

"We've been discovered, kill the intruders!" Castillon ordered viciously.

The pirates came upon Hawke and his comrades like a swarm of rats on rancid food. As skilled as they all were, they were still only ten against fifty, too much to ask of anyone. The pirates found Isabella in the shadows, ganged up on Fenris and Aveline. They took down Anders and Merrill before they could conjure any effective spells and cut down Sebastian's bow. Hawke fought like a caged tiger, but soon the numbers just overwhelmed him.

Castillon knocked Hawke's keyblade out of his hand, and Hawke fell to his knees. The pirates rounded up the Champion's companions and threw them at Castillon's feet. The infamous slaver kicked Hawke in the ribs, chuckling sinisterly and wondering what kind of price he could get for selling the likes of the Champion and his eclectic entourage.

"W-what...koff...what do we do know?" Hawke wheezed weakly, desperately looking for a miracle. And then he saw it. His miracle in the form of a handsome dwarf with a sexy crossbow.

"Get down!" The heroic dwarf shouted to his fallen comrades. He cocked back his mighty crossbow and unleashed hell on the slavers.

The pirates scrambled like scared rats, desperately, vainly trying to avoid the fireballs spewing from Varric's awesome crossbow. Too late did the pirates realize their folly.

"Oh, no! We were such fools to think we could challenge the mighty Varric Tethras!" Castillon wailed lamentingly while his men were dying around him. "We should beg for mercy!"

Varric glared down at the slaving piece of filth, pointed Bianca right at him, and said, "I got your mercy, right here!"

The mighty dwarf shot a grenade at the slaver captain and blew him to a million bits in a ball of fire. And just like that, Hawke and his companions were saved by their beloved dwarf friend.

"Oh, thank the creators for you, Varric." Merrill praised highly.

"You're the manliest dwarf in all the Free Marches. Hell, in all of Thedas!" Isabella sighed.

Hawke was never happier to see anyone in his whole life. "What we would do without you, Varric?"

**~XoXoXo~**

"Now, now, Hawke, it's all in a days work for your friendly neighborhood storyteller." Varric lauded. This was without a doubt his favorite part of the untold story.

Varric was beaming with pride over what he said he did for the Champion. Never before had anyone done anything so heroic for Hawke. Everyone else, however, was neither impressed nor fooled by the yarn Varric had just got done telling.

"What?" Varric asked casually, finally noticing his audiences displeasure.

"I realize that ninety percent of the stuff coming out of your mouth is bullshit, but that's a step too far, even for you." Rajmael said, utterly unconvinced and unimpressed.

"Really, Varric?" Cassandra deeply disappointed. This was the first time Varric overplayed his role in his own story. "You couldn't fool me the last time you told a false fairytale like this, and you're certainly not fooling anyone now."

"Oh, come on, Seeker. You're completely underestimating my ability to relay the details of an otherwise unknown tale." Varric defended. "I have to embellish a few minor details to make the story that much more interesting."

"You mean to say that the Champion carved through the best of the antaam before killing the Arishok one-on-one, but couldn't handle only fifty slavers? Come on, Varric, we're not as stupid as we look!" Iron Bull criticized.

"You forget, Varric, I was in Kirkwall for as long as the Champion was, and witnessed what he could do firsthand." Cullen reminded, thoroughly unamused

"Even Sera couldn't fall for something as poorly made up as that." Vivienne chided.

"Go eat it, Madame Sissy-Britches!" Sera shot back.

"It was a compliment, Sera, dear. I merely meant to say that you're not as idiotic as you look." Vivienne clarified with her signature faux sincerity.

Sera just blew the enchanter a two-fingered salute and a raspberry.

"Come now, Varric. If you're going to inflate your own ego, at least do a better job of it." Dorian insisted.

"If I wanted to listen to impossible bullshit, I'd go down to the pub and get soused with all the other drunks." Blackwall stated.

"He knows the true story, he just doesn't want to say because he thinks his words can make a better story. He wants to be the hero of the tale." Cole said with his usual cryptic insight being right on the money.

"Oh, jeez, Kid. You didn't need to say that out loud!" Varric groaned.

"Aw, come on, Varric!" Rajmael pleaded anxiously. "We want to hear the story, not some far-fetched embellishment to inflate your already big ego."

"Well, excuse me for wanting to keep my audience riveted by telling unexpected details." Varric huffed.

"Please, don't leave us in suspense, Master Varric. Tell us what happened!" Josephine practically begged.

"You all know what happened! It's obvious what happened. It was the Champion for crying out loud, and he had Aveline and Fenris with him!" Varric emphasized. "Hawke and everybody rolled in there, sprung an ambush, butchered every sorry pirate bastard in there, and it was over in less than five minutes. Like nobody saw that coming. Least what I said was surprising."

"Well, then tell us what happened after that." Cassandra insisted. "And please, make it the truth this time, for once?"

"I'll humbly oblige, Seeker." Varric conceded. "Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes. It was over in minutes..."

**~XoXoXo~**

It was over in mere minutes. Many of these brigands foolishly held to the belief that just because they had a sword and hailed from Antivan meant they were as skilled as Antivan crows. They were not. Couldn't even hold a candle, a matchstick to the Crows. These pirates were skilled raiders and pillagers of defenseless peasants and refugees, but against the most highly trained warriors, rogues and mages in all of Kirkwall, these guys weren't even a warm up to them. Some tried to surrender, but Fenris and Hawke showed them no quarter. Their bodies and severed limbs now littered the floor of the cavern, while the streams of their blood ran into the water. They left the only one who mattered alive, Castillon.

Fenris shoved the slaver captain to his knees in front of Hawke and kept his sword pressed against his neck. The beaten down Antivan criminal looked up at the Champion of Kirkwall, the Guard-Captain, and the former elven slave, and it was painfully obvious they were all royally pissed off. Now there was only one option left to Castillon: try to bargain his way out of this.

"Well, Champion, if you wanted to make another arrangement with, you could have set up an appointment so we could avoid all this...unpleasantness." Castillon said calmly.

Hawke planted his mailed fist square into Castillon's scheming face, crushing his nose and splitting his upper and lower lip. "Shut your mouth and listen!"

Castillon spat the blood out of his mouth and tried to maintain his businessman composure. "Champion, I assure you, this violence is not..." Hawke punched him again, this time knocking a tooth out.

"I said shut up!" Hawke yelled viciously. While Castillon groaned in pain and nursed the spot on his jaw where his missing molar used to be, Hawke tossed the key to the holding cells to Isabella. The pirate queen released the slaves while Anders helped them find the exit. Castillon watched with outrage and heartbreak as his livelihood went running out the backdoor.

"No, don't...!" Castillon tried to protest, but Fenris pressed his sword harders against his neck. Castillin finally gave up, enraged and in defeat. Hrr! What do you want?!"

"Answers." Hawke said, angrily observing the tiny cages this man was holding his countrymen in. "These people, you were holding them for some certain sick individuals who were planning on turning them into walking bombs. I want to know everything you know about them, and I do mean right now."

Castillon smiled slyly, that weasel's nose of his smelled an opportunity. "Ah, so you need me for something? Well, perhaps we can come to some sort of arrangement after all."

Hawke's patience finally ran out. "Fenris, would you please?"

"Gladly." Fenris responded with genuine enthusiasm. The elf's lyrium tattoos lit up like white fire on his skin and he plunged his hand into Castillon's chest like a ghost through a wall.

Castillon groaned in agony, his body being violated by the elf's incorporeal hand sifting through his insides. The pain was like having a burning hot iron slithering inside him.

"You feel that, Castillon?" Hawke asked, leaning over the slaver dangerously. "That's my friend's hand grabbing your heart. All he has to do is squeeze it, and your heart pops like a grape. Or maybe he's reach down into your gut and pull your stomach out so we can see what you had for breakfast. Or, and this is the smart decision, you can tell us what you know, and the pain stops. Well? What's it going to be?"

Castillon desperately looked up at Isabella, hoping to catch a fragment of mercy from her. "Isabella, please? For old times' sake?"

"Hmm, nope, sorry, Castillon." Isabella waved off casually. "I'm with Hawke on this. Besides, I'm still pretty pissed about you having that bounty on me for all those years."

"Alright! For Andraste's sake, alright! I'll tell you what you want to know!" Castillon screamed, reaching his breaking point. Hawke nodded to Fenris, and the elf withdrew his hand. Castillon gasped for air like he had been underwater, relived that was over.

"Now, who hired you to hold these people here?" Hawke questioned.

"The...man's name is Renault." Castillon panted. "He came to me nearly half a year ago. Said he knew of me through an acquaintance of his employer. Paid me fifteen-hundred sovereigns just for taking the job. When it came time to start the job, I met with the three men who were running the operation."

"Vanard, who paid you the money. Jeven who was doing the ground work. And this Renault who was overseeing the operation." Hawke surmised.

"Yes. Renault had Jeven post false adds all around Lowtown and Darktown about well paying jobs to the Ferelden refugees, to have them lured to us." Castillon confirmed.

"You sick bastard." Isabella hissed loathingly. "That was the same scheme you used on those Fereldans trying to escape the Blight." She knew that scheme all too well. It was why Castillon had a bounty on her.

"In this enterprise, you use whatever bait works." Castillon said defensively, earning a hateful glare from everyone present.

Isabella sniffed her nose at Castillon "That's not all you know, and don't bother to deny it. I know you too well. You never go into business with someone else without knowing that you're the one who will come out on top. Why are you so afraid to back out of this deal?"

Castillon cringed like he swallowed bitter medicine and cursed Isabella under his breath. "Because it quickly became apparent that these people wouldn't take _'no'_ for an answer, or tolerate failure. With the amount of money they had, they could easily hire the Antivan Crows to snuff me if they wanted. I don't really know who hired me. They, if it is a _'they'_, contacted me through intermediaries."

"Vanard, Jeven and this Renault." Aveline concluded.

"Yes."

"How do you know that it's not this Renault who is the actual leader of this operation?" Fenris asked.

"Because Renault made it clear that he, and therefore I, was working for someone. He also made it abundantly clear that this mystery person would not tolerate any mistakes, which was why she hired me to begin with. I am a professional after all." Castillon explained. "The way Renault spoke of this person, it was almost as if he revered them, like they were the greatest thing since Andraste."

"So, whoever this person is, they're probably the most hardcore fanatic of this group, to command the loyalty of someone like this Renault." Aveline theorized.

Hawke looked down at Castillon, a grave seriousness in his eyes that said he wasn't messing around. "One more question, and you'd better tell me the truth. Did your men take the mage who was accompanying the Hero of Ferelden?"

Castillon paused a moment and considered his answer carefully. "Yes, we did."

Castillon's answer earned him a quick and stinging backhand to the face from Hawke. "You stupid, greedy, soulless piece of shit! Why?!"

"Argh! Why do you think!?" Castillon spat back. "We were ordered to! Renault told us to bring the mage to him. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a hold of fresh mage flesh outside the Imperium? The man even provided Templar uniforms for my men to use to make bringing her much easier."

"What do they intend to do with her?"

"I don't know! I just sell the product, I'm not responsible for what the buyers do with it once they've made their purchase." Castillon scoffed.

"Product?" Anders repeated, outraged. "That's a living person, you bastard!"

Hawke looked at the Antivan slaver with such contempt and disgust that he didn't even think this person was an even worthy of being called a human being. "You really are an evil son of a bitch, aren't you? You destroy people's lives just line your pocket, and you don't give a don't think twice about it. The Maker must have been out of his mind when He allowed someone like you to be born."

Castillon said nothing. Just glared back at the Champion with equal contempt.

"Where did you take Petra, the mage you kidnapped?" Hawke finally demanded.

"If I tell you, will you let me live?" Castillon tried to bargain.

"I had no intention of ever killing you, Castillon." Hawke's answer surprised, even outraged all his companion.

Castillon breathed a sigh of relief, and readily answered Hawke's question. "There is an old outpost, just outside the city. It was used during the Fourth Blight, but no one goes there anymore. We were instructed to bring the mage there. Renault was waiting for us when we arrived."

"I know that place. It would be the perfect place for bandits or terrorists to hide." Aveline spoke out.

This was exactly the information Hawke needed. Now they finally had something to work with. "We have a location. With any luck, Renault and Petra will still be there."

"They've had her for hours now. They might have moved already." Sebastian pointed out.

"Then we have no time to lose."

"Wait-wait. What about me?" Castillon selfishly asked. "I _did_ answer your questions after all."

"Throw him one of these cells." Hawke ordered. "See how he likes being caged like an animal."

"Wait, you said you'd let me go!" Castillon protested as Fenris happily obliged Hawke.

"No, I said I had no intention of killing you, I never implied I was going to let you go." Hawke clarified damningly. "After all the pain and suffering you've cause, I wouldn't dream of it. When this is done, I've got something else in mind for you."

Fenris tied up and gagged Castillon like a holiday bird, and then threw him on of the cells, locking it behing him. Castillon cursed and screamed with the gag in his mouth, tried to shout every profanity he knew at the Champion, but was ignored. All he could do now was ponder on what the Champion had planned for him.

**Later, On The Outskirts of Kirkwall**

They arrived at the location Castillon told them about. This was the biggest lead they had now, hopefully they could find answers, maybe even Petra here. The outpost they were heading to was an old fortress constructed during the Fourth Blight in an attempt to hold back the darkspawn horde that were swarming the Free Marches. Now it was a creaking, rundown ruin with shattered walls and a caved in roof. It was no longer worthy of being called a fortress, but it was still serving a purpose.

"Anyone know anything about this ruin?" Anders asked deeply concerned. "There's something wrong with this place. I can sense faint traces of the Blight in it."

"I think I know why. This fort was built during the Exalted Age, just when the Fourth Blight had begun, in an attempt to hold the darkspawn back." Aveline explained. "It failed, and was overrun by the darkspawn horde. Even after Garahel drove the darkspawn out of the Free Marches, no ruler of Kirkwall ever thought to rebuild it, for fear that darkspawn still dwell in its walls."

"Hmph. I don't sense any darkspawn, only the lingering scent of their presence." Anders stated, his Grey Warden abilities still acute. "I doubt anyone could so much as contract the Blight, let alone run into a Hurlock."

"That makes it the perfect place for a group of terrorists to hide." Hawke concluded. He looked up at the sky, where the two moons were now hanging high. It was about midnight now, and he was still on a time limit. "Time's running out, we need to move now. When we get inside, be ready for anything. Remember, Petra is the goal here. We need to bring her to the Hero, otherwise he's going to go on a fender in Kirkwall."

"Should one of us go and tell the Hero about what we've discovered?" Merrill asked.

"No, too risky." Hawke answered. "We don't know how many people are in there, or where their holding Petra. And Petra's chances of survival are higher if we get to her now."

Everyone got into formation and followed Hawke's lead. As they made their way into the fortress through a ruined wall, it became apparent that this place was as dead as it looked. No sentries, guards, not even a presentable trap to prevent them from walking freely through the ruin. Couldn't keep a stray cow out of this place. Something didn't seem right.

"Help...me..." The voice of a woman whimpered weakly in the darkness.

"You hear that?" Fenris asked, his pointed ears twitching.

"Sounds like someone's in trouble." Aveline observed.

"We need to follow that voice, they might be hurt." Sebastian implored, hastily running ahead.

"Wait!" Hawke called. "We can't just rush ahead it might be a trap."

But it was too late. Sebastian had already run ahead towards the voice.

"Help me...please..." The voice called desperately.

Everyone raced after Sebastian who was running toward the voice. As a devout Andrastian, he could not ignore a plea for help, no matter the danger to himself.

"Please, save me..." The voice called, louder, clearer, and more despairingly.

They came to a clearing in the middle of the ruin, and there they found the source of the voice calling them for help. A young woman strapped to a chair, her head hanging low, and it difficult to tell if she was alive or not.

"That's her! Petra!" Anders shouted. "She looks injured, we need to help her."

"Anders, wait! Something's not right." Hawke shouted to his friend.

"Well, we can't just leave her there." Sebastian stated, moving to join Anders in helping the bound hostage.

Against Hawke's better judgment, he motioned everyone to follow and fan out. Something didn't seem right. Petra, the very person they were looking for, was left out for them, right in the open, like a well wrapped present. This was the perfect opportunity for a trap. But there was nothing and no one. If this was an ambush, it would have been sprung now. If there was a trap, it would have gotten them now. What was going on here?

Anders carefully approached the bound mage. As a fellow mage and a healer, he was morally obligated to make sure she was alright. And the fact that she is a comrade of Aedan's, like he once was, made him all the more determined to help her. Her head was hanging low, and it looked like she was bleeding. Had she been tortured? Was she dead already? Anders carefully moved to inspect Petra's head for any injuries. The instant he got close, her head snapped up and her eyes shot open. Her mouth was gagged and her eyes filled with horror.

"Mmph-hmph!" Petra yelled behind her gag. She was unable to call for help, and too late did they realize that it was a trap.

The ground they stood on came alive with bright green light that encompassed the whole surrounding area. It was some kind of powerful glyph, and before any of them could react, it's magic activated. The glyph leeched the energy out of them. Hawke became so weary he could barely stand, let alone hold his sword. The more he tried to resist, the more the glyph seemed to drain from him. Hawke fell to his knees, powerless as he watched his comrades fall to the ground. He prayed to the Maker that they were merely unconscious and not dead. The last thing Hawke's distorted vision saw before being completely taken in darkness was an ominous figure standing over him, glaring with hateful eyes.

"Welcome, Champion." The ominous figure said damningly, just as Hawke fell into unconsciousness.

**Meanwhile, Back in Kirkwall...**

Aedan was still at the Kirkwall Chantry. Ever since he gave his ultimatum, he hadn't so much as budged from his spot, except for when Bodahn and Sandal came to talk with him. It was late at night now, and the Hero of Ferelden was still there, with that grim look on his face. He didn't move, didn't speak, didn't even look like he was breathing. All he did was stare up at the window watching the sky change like an emotionless statue.

It was now late at night, and there had still been now word from the Champion about his task to find those responsible for the kidnaping of the Hero's subordinate. Elthina was getting worried. The Hero of Ferelden made it abundantly clear that he had every intention of getting his mage back, even if it meant killing those who were not responsible. It was well known that the Hero was a violent but also honorable, and that he could be reasoned with. However, it was also known that he was no friend of the Chantry, that became apparent when they first met. But as the Grand-Cleric, Elthina knew it was her responsibility to reach out to him, make him understand the error of his judgment.

"Good evening, Lord Cousland." Elthina greeted once more, as politely as she could.

The Fereldan General merely glanced at the Chantry priest, deeply disinterested, and went back to looking up at the sky.

Elthina maintained her patience, but was unwilling to give up before she started. "I understand that you're angry, Lord Cousland. You came here on a mission of peace, and instead saw many of your countrymen senselessly slaughtered. You have a right to be outraged. But do you honestly believe that what you intend to do will resolve anything?"

"Bring the Knight-Commander here, and have her give me an explanation." Aedan demanded. "Have her explain to me why my two squires witnessed Templars making off with Petra just before she went missing. If her explanation is satisfactory, I will not need to stay this course."

Elthina sighed disappointedly. "I've already told you, Lord Cousland, after your initial meeting, Meredith refuses to treat with you."

"Then you, Grand-Cleric, had better _order_ her to treat with me!" Aedan growled.

"As I said before, I have no authority over the Templars. They are our protectors, not our servants." Elthina tried to explain.

"Then we have nothing to talk about." Aedan dismissed, deeply annoyed. "If you're here to try some pitiful attempt to appeal to my better nature and convince me to not fulfill my promise, don't bother. You're wasting your time."

"It is my duty to at least make the attempt." Elthina tried to reason. "Taking your anger out on this city does you nor your people any credit. Will you truly bring more pain where pain already exists?"

"I don't need explain myself. Least of all to the likes of you." The Hero finally spoke. His words were quiet, yet they somehow echoed throughout the Chantry.

The words the Hero spoke actually stung Elthina a little. "Excuse me? And what do you mean by _'someone like me'_?"

"An ostentatious pretender, like every other self-important rodent who wears Chantry robes, who has done nothing for this city you claim to serve." Aedan growled in his throat. "You do nothing for this city, even while Templars and mages feud and the people are suffering. From where I stand, you are one of the enemies of this city."

Elthina wasn't sure how to respond to this statement. That might have been the most sincere thing she had ever heard Aedan Cousland say, but it was perhaps also the most insulting. In all her years, Elthina had never met a single soul with as much hatred for the Chantry as this man.

"The Chantry isn't nearly as domineering or totalitarian as you make it out to be, Lord Cousland." Elthina defended adamantly. "I'm sure, deep down, even you must realize that."

"Ha! What a joke!" Aedan laughed mockingly. "Tell that to the elves living in squalor and poverty down in your city's Alienage. See if they agree with your view on the Chantry. Now, why don't you go get some sleep and save your prayers for people who are really going to need it. They way things are going right now, it looks like you're going to have a lot of them when I get to work tomorrow."

**Back With Hawke...**

Hawke's mind was swimming in blackness, trying vainly to find substance in a sea of blankness. His subconscious was content to simply remain in this comforting state of lethargy, with nothing on his mind except his pleasant memories. His thoughts drifted to his family, all the times they shared and how much he missed them. His mother's kind, caring nature. The spats and competitions he and Carver used to get into over everything, and how they would laugh when it was over. How he missed having Bethany around the house, and how much she seemed to brighten the room when she walked in. Hawke remembered his father and how dearly he missed him. His father was a wise, worldly man, always ready to teach his children everything he knew, whether it was magic, martial arts, or even how to be decent people. Hawke owed everything he was to his father, and thought he was the greatest teacher in the world. Everything he did was to live up to his memory. What would he have done here?

That's when he realized it: what his father would have done. Malcolm Hawke wouldn't just lay there like a bear in hibernation while everything he worked to build was being threatened. His father would have done everything in his power, use everything he knew to stop these bastards, just like when he sealed Corypheus. As Malcolm's son, Hawke could do no less. He summoned every ounce of his willpower, gathered his thoughts into a single goal: wake the fuck up.

Hawke's eyes finally shot open. He was still feeling the aftereffects of whatever spell that glyph cast on him. His head felt heavy, like it was full of lead, and as cold as an ice cube, while his body felt weak and sluggish. Hawke noticed he was tied to a chair, and even worse, he was stripped of his armor and weapons. And he wasn't alone. He saw that all his companions were bound in the same. Tied up to chairs, disarmed and left defenseless.

Hawke tried to ponder the situation. Whoever sprung that trap on them had ample opportunity to kill them, yet they didn't take it. Meant whoever this was, wanted them alive. That meant whoever this was probably wanted to torture them or do something just as vile. Another thing Hawke realized, and gave him cause for more distress, was that he didn't know what time it was. How long were they out of it? Hours? Days?! Had the Hero of Ferelden already fulfilled his promise while they were all adrift in dreamland? There was no time to waste, they had to get out now.

"Everyone, wake up!" Hawke shouted, loud enough for them to hear him but hopefully so he wouldn't gather any attention. One by one, all them began to wake, groggy but otherwise unharmed.

"Ohhgh! What happened?" Anders groaned.

"I feel like I was just trampled by a herd of bronto." Fenris winced.

"Reminds of that time I got slipped a roofie at the Hanged Man and woke up in the Market Area, completely naked." Varric recalled, feeling terribly hungover.

"Well, I don't know about the rest of you, but I feel fine." Isabella chirped.

"Of course you do." Aveline groaned sickly. "Waking up in a strange place, tied up and hung over, is probably normal for you, isn't it?"

"No! Not normal." Isabella admitted defensively. "More like, every now and then, like a special occasion. You know, like your love life."

"Shut up, whore." Aveline huffed through her hangover.

"Anders, Merrill? Can either of you cast a spell that can help us out here?" Varric asked.

"No, I'm afraid not." Anders replied. "It looks like these Dog-Lord Hunters are better equipped than we realized. They got our hands bound in special shackles that the Templars use to neutralize magic. And here I thought only the Templars had access to these bonds."

"Vhenan, do you know what's going on?" Merrill asked.

"Well, what happened was we fell into a trap, and it was a sadly obvious one. One we might have avoided if you two hadn't run ahead like a couple of idiots!" Hawke yelled at Sebastian and Anders, who both shifted shamefully in their chairs.

"I'm sorry. I did try to warn you, but there was nothing I could do." said a voice. It was Petra, still bound but otherwise unharmed.

"Petra? Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine." Petra assured. "A little worse for wear, but other than that..."

"Petra, what happened to you?" Anders asked concernedly.

"Oh, I was so stupid." Petra lamented. "Some Templars approached me, saying that there were people who needed my help, and like an idiot I believed them. Next thing I know, I'm drugged and woke up in this horrid place."

"Do you have any idea what's going on here?"

"I...I know that these are the people behind the attack on Lowtown, I heard them bragging about it, and how they were going to make you and the Hero pay." Petra answered.

"Do you know who's leading them?"

"I don't know for certain. The man who laid the trap for you, I heard the others call him Renault. I think he's Orlesian, judging from his accent. And there's someone else here, someone even Renault listens to. A woman, and a mage, I think. She was the one who laid out that glyph trap you walked on. She was the one calling for help to lure you one it."

"Are there anymore hostages or refugees being held here?"

"No, I don't think so." Petra responded. "Not all that long ago, the guards and everyone else was raving about how they lost all the, ahem, Fereldan garbage they were going to use for their attacks. That's when this woman said that they were going to lay a trap for you."

"Petra, listen to me." Hawke beseeched. "Your commander thinks the Templars are the ones who kidnapped you, and he's promised to raze the Gallows to the ground unless we delivered you to him by sundown today. Will he follow through with that promise?"

The young mage was actually surprised by that bit of news. "Huh. The Hero of Ferelden would actually go through all that trouble just for me? I'm actually kind of flattered. But yes, if he's given his word to do something, he will follow through with that promise. And there won't be much anyone can do anything about it except get out of his way or get stepped on."

"Well, this day just keeps getting better and better." Hawke groaned. "Everyone, listen. Whoever running this show, they want us alive. Otherwise they would have had every chance they needed to kill us."

"But why would they do that?" Sebastian inquired.

"Maybe they want to make us suffer and torture us to death." Fenris growled in his throat. "You saw how much these bastards hate Hawke, and I doubt they like us any better."

"You could say that." Answered an ominous voice. It was the same one Hawke heard before being knocked out. The cell door creaked open and in walked a man of imposing stature and grim of face. He was easily half a foot taller than Hawke and had shoulders like an ox and arms that could shame a blacksmith. It was obvious that this man's life was physically demanding. It was also obvious to Hawke that this man was some sort of warrior, judging from his posture and the way he carried himself. But he wasn't a common soldier, he stood and had the look of authority, and had an air of arrogance that was akin to a nobleman. He wore an old fashioned but well made gambeson, that looked like the heraldry that was once strapped to it was ripped off. Strapped to his hip was an Orlesian styled cavalry sabre, judging from the ornate designs on the guard. It looked it had seen years of use but was well maintained.

But this mystery man was getting on in his years, this man was easily around the same age as Hawke's father. His reddish hair was greying and receding and had deep stress lines on his face. But most distinctively was the horrible scar that marred the right side of his face. It was oddly shaped; a row of deep gashes and divots that formed into an oblong crescent shape on his face. And then there were those eyes. They deep brown, but dead and hollow, like looking at the eyes of a dead man. It was just as Sabrina described. Hawke knew who this man was.

The man looked at them with a smug sense of contempt for each of them. He looked at the Champion like a big game hunter would look after bagging the king of the forest.

"Who...who are you?" Aveline demanded of their captor.

"I know who he is." Hawke answered with animosity. There was a hatred on his face like none of them had ever seen before. "I can't believe I never realized it before now. Renault de Courcillon of the Order of the Chevaliers, and captain of 7th Cavalry Brigade of King Meghren." Hawke spoke every word of that sentence as if it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

With his identity revealed, Renault saw no need to keep up pretenses, and gave the Champion a bow full of false courtesy. "I see my reputation precedes me. I'm almost flattered."

"How do you know who this man is, Hawke?" Anders inquired.

"Yes, tell them how you know who I am." Renault implored eagerly.

Hawke glared at the smug Orlesian with a hatred no one knew he possessed. "Everyone in eastern Ferelden knows who you are! How you led your men to raze whole villages, butchered whole families who were even suspected of aiding the rebellion. How you let your men to rape women as a reward! Loghain should have butchered you like he did all the other Chevaliers at the Battle of White River!"

"What manner of human are you?" Sebastian asked, deeply appalled.

"I'm the kind of human that makes empires grow strong." Renault responded stoically.

"If this man is such a vile war criminal, why hasn't anyone done anything about him?" Fenris asked.

"Because, like all the Orlesian invaders, Renault ran with his tail between his legs when King Maric and Loghain drove them out of the country. That didn't stop him and his men from burning every house and farm on their way out of Ferelden." Hawke explained with deep hate and anger in his voice. "As if you hadn't already ruined enough lives."

"What better way to train a land of dog-lords than by treating them like dogs?" Renault sneered. "And when we left, I decided to make sure your people would always remember who their betters are."

Hawke smiled sardonically back at the Orlesian war criminal, surprising Renault. "And what do you have to show for it, old man? The way I hear it, your brutality and indecency made you a pariah in the Orlesian Court, even Gaspad de Chalons wanted nothing to do with you. And when Empress Celene took the throne, she all but banished you, and confiscated all your wealth to pay back the war costs you incurred. There's still wanted posters of you in every settlement, and the bounty Loghain put on your head is still up for grabs. Everything you did, all the lives you destroyed, and you got nothing to show for it except a rusty old sword and an ugly facial scar." Hawke laughed mockingly.

"Hey, how'd he get that scar on his face, Hawke?" Varric asked glibly.

"Ha! Story is when he was fleeing Ferelden and stopped to burn another village, a loyal mabari pulled him off his horse and tried to bite his face off!" Hawke laughed. "His men tried to help him, but that mabari killed them while he fled. A reminder of what it mean to piss off us dog-lords."

Renault took exception Hawke's laughter and struck the Champion across the face with his large fist. "Silence, Fereldan filth! Everything I did in your putrid country was for the glory of the Empire, and with the blessings of the Chantry itself!"

"The Chantry would never condone actions so vile and abhorrent!" Sebastian denied.

Renault turned his attention to the naïve choirboy, laughing at his ignorance. "Ha! You seem to forget your history, little prince. It wasn't the first time the Chantry blessed the Orlesian army to conquer a kingdom and people for the glory of the empire. Just like when we destroyed the heathen kingdom of the Dales." Renault's words earned an glare from Merrill, who was now wishing she wasn't bond so she could through a rock fist at his face. "The Blessed Age was named after the twin princes born to Emperor Etienne, one of whom was Emperor Reville. His very birth heralded the Blessed Age, and his conquest of Ferelden was sanctified by the Divine. Our war was a holy quest!"

Your kind needed a firm hand to teach you respect. And instead of being rewarded for my loyal service, that weakling Celene chose to give into the groaning of the Fereldan usurper, and strip me of everything I did for her dynasty. I lost everything because of your wretched, despicable race!"

The Champion hocked in his throat and spat hatefully in Renault's eye. "Fuck you, and fuck your empire! From where I'm sitting, you deserved worse, you Chevalier piece of shit!"

Enraged, Renault drew his sword and pressed to Hawke's neck. He wanted to just slit his insolent throat so badly, but refrained. "No. Killing you here won't be as satisfying. I want you to watch as everything you care about burn."

"Yeah, you're pretty tough when threatening people who are unarmed and tied up, ain't ya?" Varric mocked. "Tell me, 'cause I gotta know, how much of a fight did those refugees put up? Like to see how big you are when you're not hiding behind fanatics and hostages!"

Renault looked over to the dwarf contemptuously, but unfazed by his words. "You'll all get what you deserve, soon enough. For now, our leader has something special planned for you. I have been dreaming of this moment for over forty years. When she came to me, she promised me the vengeance that was denied me. Now I will finally have it."

"She? Who's _she_?" Hawke demanded.

"It matters little to you, now. You won't live long enough to ever even know her name." Renault answered. He looked over to the door and whistled loudly. About a dozen of his underlings came in through the door, all of them armed with those dwarven steel weapons. They unbound Hawke and the others from their chairs and forcibly led them out of the cell. And for extra measure, they placed their swords against Petra, to make sure no one did anything stupid.

Renault led them out of the cell and through the ruined fort. Hawke was shocked to see just how many of these Dog-Lord Slayers there actually was. There weren't a few, or dozens, but easily over a hundred fanatics holding this fort. Hawke had always known there was a great deal of intolerance in the Free Marches, but he didn't think they were this insane. Down in the courtyard, Hawke could see them training how to use their newly acquired swords, their movement were exactly like Garth did when Hawke fought him.

Renault led them to the upper floors to a ruined balcony, and to Hawke's horror, he saw that the sun was beginning to hang low in the sky. They had been out cold for almost a whole day, and Aedan's deadline was approaching.

Renault sensed Hawke's distress, and smiled at it. "Yes, you know what's going to happen, don't you? Soon, your wretched Hero's deadline will be up, and he'll set your city ablaze trying to find his mage. Our leader predicted this would happen, and wanted you to be here, and watch the smoke rise as your city burns."

The Dog-Lord Slayers chained Hawke and his companions to the wall, forcing them to look forward at the city. Sebastian whispered a prayer under his breath, while Aveline and Fenris resisted the chains. Renault snapped his fingers and his men pressed their swords to Petra's back; that gave them incentive not to resist.

At a nearby table was all their gear, arms and armor, and the dog-lord hunters were pawing through it, seeing what they wanted for themselves. Varric almost had an aneurysm at the sight of them touching Bianca with such disrespect.

"Hey! Get your stinkin', greasy mitts off my Bianca, you nug-humping bastards!" Varric yelled viciously. "Hurt her, and swear you'll regret it!"

One of the Hunters laughed like it was joke and backhanded Varric in the face. "Ooh, I'm so scared of the beardless dwarven runt. Andraste, save me!"

Varric spat the blood from his split lip and looked back up at the duster who struck him. "Oh, I hope you enjoyed that, 'cause I want you to remember this moment."

"I'll think about it every time I go to take a shit." The Hunter laughed.

Renault looked over to the city, eagerly anticipating its impending destruction. Picturing how beautiful the flames and smoke will look against the evening sky. His vindication was so close he could practically taste it. "You know, I never could understand why these Marchers could ever consider you a champion of anything, let alone allow you nobleman's status. In Orlais, an ill-bred bastard son of an apostate and a disgraced noblewoman could never even inherit a name, let alone a title. But here, there are no civilized standards."

"You _really_ want to bring my mother and father into this?" Hawke said threateningly.

"He got to become the Champion by actually earning his title, by strength of will and deed alone." Aveline spoke out, equally defended. "Unlike in Orlais, where they give titles out to every dandy with the right name and never worked a day in their life."

"Ha! The word of a motherless daughter of a disgraced Chevalier is less than meaningless. That your father had to flee to Ferelden of all places only screams of his disgrace." Renault insulted. Aveline was ready to punch this pretentious ponce into a stain on the floor.

"You talk a big game, but I'll guarantee Lady Biceps here has got more balls than you do, you Orlesian scum-sucker!" Isabella spat.

"I'm more than reasonably sure that a pirate whore like you has probably sucked more Orlesian scum than all the bottom feeders in Val Royeaux." Renault balked back. Now both captains really wanted to kill this man. Renault couldn't stifle his smug laughter at the sight of the Champion bound in chains, helpless to watch his city's impending destruction. "You have no idea how much I will enjoy this. I want you to watch as everything you've built, everything you've worked so hard to protect burns and dies. Just like what happened to me. And the best part is, it will be done by the Hands of your own damned Hero."

Hawke snorted at Renault in disgust. "You're laughing now, but I'd like to see how brave you are and actually face the Hero of Ferelden, like a man, instead of hiding behind underling to do your dirty work. Then again, what can you expect from a disgraced Chevalier? You should stick to your strength and pick fights with farmers and peasant with pitchforks. More of a fair fight."

"Silence, turnip!" Renault growled, socking Hawke in the face with his massive fist.

Hawke snapped his head back, and smiled back at the towering Orlesian, like his punch was nothing. "And you hit like a girl."

Renault's face started turning red and that scar on his face began cringing in anger. He wanted to see this dog-lord filth suffer, not tolerate his insolence. It was time to make this Fereldn turnip understand who was the true master here.

"You want to know the only thing I've found is lower than a Fereldan turnip? A damned knife-ear. Especially those heathen knife-ears who hide in the woods living like the savages. Least the rabbits in the city have a purpose, in serving their masters." Renault leered over at Merrill with vile delight in his eyes. "Men, why don't you have the Champion's bed-warmer '_serve'_ a purpose. I think the Champion deserves a sideshow before the main event, don't you."

Renault's men chuckled evilly, eager to carry out their commander's order. Merill gasped in terror at what they intended, vainly trying to fight from her anti-magic bonds. An unbridled rage erupted inside Hawke as he watched these motherless bastards dare lay their hands on his woman.

"You sons of bitches, don't you dare touch her!" Isabella snarled viciously.

"I'm gonna shoot your balls off and use them to decorate the Hanged Man!" Varric threatened.

"You wanna touch a tattooed elf, try touching me, and see what happens!" Fenrish yelled.

"There won't be a hole in all of Thedas that you bastards will be able to hide you from me!" Aveline screamed.

_**"RENAULT!"**_ Hawke roared at the top of his lungs, catching everyone's attention.

Renault raised his hand, signaling his men to stop, and looked over to the Champion with that smug look on his face, so sure that the Champion was going to beg for his heathen lover.

"You are all going to die, right fucking now." Hawke seethed murderously. "And there isn't a damned thing you can do about it."

Renault and all his men couldn't help but start laughing like the Champion's threat was a sick joke.

"And how do you imagine that is going to happen, Champion?" Renault mocked. "You have nothing! You are unarmed, surrounded and bound. The only thing you can do now is beg for mercy. Do it now, and I might consider just killing your precious knife-ear instead of letting my men have her."

"That's where you're wrong, you diseased-ridden piece of Orlesian slime." Hawke growled. "One: I killed the Arishok and all the best soldiers the Antaam had to offer, you and your men are nothing compared to that. Two: I've been held by better bonds just fooling around in bed with Isabella." Hawke slipped his hands free of the chains that were holding him like they were nothing. The Hunters, instantly threatened by the now freed and incredibly pissed off Champion. "And three, most importantly: We have Justice on our side. Right, Anders?"

A surge of power erupted in the apostate mage. Strange veins of mana surged across his skin and his eyes burned with an otherworldly light. Justice was awake, and he was angry.

_**"RAAHHH! Murders! Butchers! Defilers! You will feel Justice's burn!"**_ The displaced Spirit roared. Renault ducked out of the way as Justice unleashed a powerful shockwave at the Hunters, sending them hurdling to the ground below. Then Justice, controlling Anders' body, jumped down to the courtyard where the rest of the terrorists were, and began unleashing his wrath on them. There wasn't much these brigands could do except run and scream, right before they died.

While Justice was laying waste to the bastards down there, the rest of them moved to take care of the bastards up here. And there was not an ounce of mercy in any of them.

Isabella slipped out of her chains as easily as she would a nightshirt and pulled out the knife she kept hidden in her boot. "Aw, look how easy that was." She mocked before jamming her knife right between one of the Hunters' eyes. She nabbed the keys off him and quickly rushed to unlock Sebastian.

Aveline didn't bother waiting for Isabella to get to her. These whoresons threatened her friend and killed innocent people, and no amount of restraints were gonna stop her from mercilessly beating them to death. Aveline tore the chains that were holding her right off the wall, using it as a flail to keep the bastards off of Isabella. She flung the chain around one man's neck and yanked, snapping his vertebrae like dried twig.

Isabella undid Sebastian's lock in heartbeat. The wayward prince quickly dove for his bow and quiver, quickly shooting down the sentries on the nearby towers. His arrows flew true and he shot them down like quail. There was no prayer to be give to these men, no salvation or forgiveness that he could give. It was up to the Maker to judge them now.

In the heat of the shitstorm that was spiraling around them, Varric undid his shackles while no was looking and made his way over to the table where they had their gear. His hands eagerly snatched up Bianca. He kissed his beloved crossbow and held her tenderly to him, silently promising never to let someone touch her that was again. Then he saw the sorry nug-humper who dared to put his hands on Bianca in such a disrespectful manner.

"Hey, asshole! Remember that moment?" Varric called out. He pointed Bianca right at the guy, and aimed low. Very low. Now the Hanged Man had so new decorations.

Fenris' lyrium tattoos blazed like wildfire and he snapped the shackles on his chains right off. The former elven slave didn't even bother going for his sword. He just started killing these walking piles of filth with his bare hands. Fenris growled like a wild animal as he tore into the Hunters' bodies with his bare hands. His lyrium tattoos made it so easy to tear into them, like ripping apart rage dolls. They screamed in fear and agony as his hands plunged into their bodies. They cried out for mercy, and gave them none.

"Cowards! Failures!" Renault denounced, watching the men he trained scramble in fear and butchered by the very people they were trained to kill. "Stand your ground and fight."

One of the men heard Renault's words, but at the sight of his fellows being butchered by their prisoners, his heart faltered. He pulled his sword and did the only thing he could think of: take the knife-eared bitch hostage. He pressed his sword to the elf's neck, trying to keep his hand steady. "All of you, drop your weapons and surrender! I swear to fucking Andraste, I will cut this bitch's throat!"

Merrill angrily scowled at the man threatening her. For the first time in a long time, the shy elf was genuinely angry, and she wasn't nearly as helpless as the shems thought she was. And Isabella also taught her how to slip out of bonds in bed.

"There's one more thing Hawke, failed to mention, shem." The angry Dalish elf seethed, slipping out of her bonds. "I'm a bloodmage."

Merill grabbed the Hunter's blade with her bare hands, intentionally cutting herself on it, and drew on the power of her own blood. A dark red aura swirled around the petite elf, and when the Hunter realized that she was actually a maleficar, he dropped his sword and tried to run. Merrill disappeared into the ground and effortlessly moved through the stone floor like a fish through water and reappeared right in front of the Hunter that assaulted her, cutting him off from the exist.

"P-please, I-I'm sorry! I..." The Slayer vainly pleaded for his life. But his pleas fell on deaf ears. Before he could take another breath, Merill unleashed a powerful Spirit Bolt, fueled by the power of her blood magic. Within a heartbeat, the coward standing before her was reduced to a charred skeleton that disintegrated into ash.

"No! This wasn't supposed to happen!" Renault cursed. He couldn't believe. Months of planning and training, all down the tubes in a manner of minutes.

"Oh, but it is happening, Renault." Hawke said condemningly, picking up his sword. He looked at the old Chevalier like he wasn't even a threat, but some kind of clown. "You're mistake was thinking that we were easy prey, like the farmers and peasants you victimized for so many years. And I've made a living off of killing bastards like you, who think they're some kind of alpha predators because they prey on the weak and defenseless. And you want to know what the funny thing is? You're not the worst thing I've ever faced. You don't even make the top ten. You're just another notch on my belt."

Renault's facial scar cringed grotesquely into his face as he scowled hatefully at the Champion, an angry vein pulsing in his forehead. He finally unsheathed his sabre, ready to kill the object of his hatred himself. "It doesn't matter. You're too late. Even if you do kill me, we still win. This failure will destroy everything you have, you Fereldan son of a whore."

That was the last insult Hawke would take from this vile excuse for a human. No one insults his mother. "You know, I've killed a lot of people over the years, but it was terrible necessity, and not once did I ever enjoy it. But you? Killing you is a service I will be happy to perform." Hawke drew his keyblade and held his shield ready, and never even bothered donning his armor.

While Justice was tearing apart the Hunters that were down below while the rest of Hawke's companions dealt with the reinforcements that were coming in. Hawke and Renault squared off, holding their weapons ready, and their stances firm.

Renault held his sabre in a high guard, with the edge facing outwards. This stance was optimal for getting the maximum cutting power from its strike. Such blows were capable of cutting a man's torso in half. Hawke held the phalanx stance with his shield held in front of him and his sword resting on top of it, pointing straight at the the enemy. This stance was the bread and butter of all infantry foot soldiers. Hawke flashed Renault a mocking grin and discarded his own shield, for he wasn't going to need protection against an opponent like this.

Renault struck first, his sword stricking downwards, trying to cleave the Champion's head in half. Hawke blocked Renard's strike, and used the hook end of his blade to knock Renard's sword away from him.

Renard recovered, holding his stance firm. For twenty years, Renard made his living cutting down rebellious dog-;ords like this whelp here. This fight would be no different. Today, he would finally have vindication for aall the years of shame he had suffered because of these Fereldan mongrels. Renault attacked the Champion with full force, seeking to hack the pretentious turnip down to size. Hawke deftly evaded and blocked every swing of Renault's sword. Compared to a Carta Assassin, the enmey was barely even moving.

The fight went on like this for a short while. Renault swining and stabbing with his sword, trying to kill the Champion in one move, while Hawke dodged and parried every strike like he could predict his opponent's movments. Renault couldn't fathom why this was so difficult. He had slaughtered hundred of Fereldans during the Orlesian Occupation. Why was this once giving him so much trouble?

Hawke deflected another assault; compared to everything he had fought in the years he had spent in Kirkwall, Renault wasn't even amongst the best. He didn't possess the strength or tenacity that ogres and dragons posses. Compared to the Carta asssassins Hawke had killed, Renault wasn't even moving. And Renault certainly could not compare to the discipline and fortitude of even the lowest ranking qunari soldier, let alone hold a candle to the Arishok.

Renault's reputation was one based off of butchery, not warfare. He was too used to killing unarmed peasants and farmers with his underlings to back him up. He rarely fought against other trained warriors, let alone anyone of Hawke's caliber. Hawke was in his prime, fighting various powerful enemies by the score, every day. Rogue Templars, bloodmages, demons, darkspawn, dragons, Carta and couterie gangsters. Every kind of threat from every walk of life that plagued this city, and Hawke has slain all of them to reach the point where he was now. Whereas Renault was an over-the-hill war criminal, his glory days far behind him, and no accomplishments exceot his own crimes. This was no duel, it was an execution.

Hawke finally went on the offensive, decding to end this little fight and get it over with. The Champion struck overhead, Renault blocked it, but Hawke yanked Renault's weapon down with the sickle end of his sword, leaving Renault open. Hawke slammed his fist into Renault's face, breaking his nose and blurring his vision,

Renault stumbled backwards, his nose broken and bleeding, trying to fight back the tears and keep his eyes on his target. He. could not lose now, he simply could not. Decades of scartching a living in this miserable part of the world as a common sellsword, forbidden to even set foot in the empire he served or return to the colony they conquered. All those years of pain, disgrace and defeat was their fault. He would not be denied his only chance for vengeance against their wretched race for everything they did to him.

The Champion didn't wait for another attack, but took the initiative this time. He swung his sword at Renault's neck, aiming to cut his head off. Renault flawlessly parried the strke, and stabbed at Hawke's chest. Hawke barely sidestepped fast enough in time to dodge the tip of the Orlesian saber, and swung around in a wide arc to once again try and take Renault's head. Renault merely stepped back, and the sword didn't even graze his head.

"Hah! You missed, you rutting mongrel!" Renault gloated, finally feeling like he was getting a step over his opponent.

"Did I?" Hawke smiled back smugly.

Renault's forehead began to sting terribly and blood began to flow down onto his face and into his eyes. Hawke actually managed to nick him, and his cut was so fast and clean that it didn't open until a few moments after it had been inflicted. Head wounds were the worst to sustain in battle, because they would bleed profusely and were difficult to close. Cuts to the forehead were especially crippling, because the blood would always fall into the eyes, blinding the warrior, as Renault was now experiencing.

Blinded with his own blood in his eyes, Renault stepped back, keeping his sword up, trying to apply enough pressure to stop the wound on his forehead from bleeding. He could only keep one eye open, and all he could see was that damned dog-lord smiling at him like Renault de Courcillon was some kind of a clown. He could not stand this anymore. He had to kill the Champion, right now.

Renault bellowed furiosly, pouring all his energy and hatred into his attacks. Swinging and stabbing wildly. All he needed was one cut, one good cut to finish the bastard son of an apostate off, and everything he had suffered would have been worth it. Hawke grabbed a hold of Renault's sword hand in his own, stopping his wild assult. He quickly reached the sickle end of his sword behind Renault's left leg, and sliced through his hamstrings.

The disgraced Chevalier cried out in pain, falling to his knee, his leg no longer able to support him. He had fallen down on bended knee to a Fereldan, a greater shame he could not imagine. Blinded and crippled, Renault snarled viciously, furiously swinging his saber in the vain hope he might cut the wretched Fereldan turnip. Hawke quickly kicked Renault's other leg out from underneath him, making him fall flat on his face, then stomped on his sword hand, breaking his fingers with a loud crunch, before kicking his sword away.

Hawke placed his sword up against Renaul't neck, forcing him back up to his knees. The Orlesian exile cursed hatefully under his breath, but would not give the Champion the satisfaction of seeing him beg.

"Not bad for a bastard son of an apostate and a disgraced noblewoman, huh?" Hawke asked, lauding over the defeated war criminal before him.

"Just shut up and finish it, you stinking Fereldan turnip!" Renault spat his last words hatefully.

Hawke lowered the scythed tip of his sword down to Renault's abdomen, pierced his stomach, and yanked so hard, half Renault's intestines were pulled out of his body. Renault screamed in agony, wrapping his arms around his stomach in the hopes of keeping his guts inside his body.

"That was for Merrill." Hawke growled vengefully. He would never forgive anyone who would ever raise their hands to harm Merrill and her honor so heinously. Hawke reared his sword back, readying the coup de gras on this racist pig. "And this...is for Ferelden!"

Hawke swung his keyblade with all his might. The scythed end of his sword curved wonderfully around Renault's head and sliced his skull in half effortlessly. The upper half of his ugly scarred head was sent flying off the balcony while the lower half erupted into a geyser of blood. This murderer was finally dead, and it was about damned time. Hawke never enjoyed killing, but this was something he would remember fondly for the rest of his life.

**~XoXoXo~**

With Renault dead on the ground, Hawke took a moment to spit on the Orlesian war criminal's bisected head for all the harm he caused, and for daring to assault Merrill. Hawke turned his attention to the remaining Hunters his companions were fighting. When they noticed their commander was dead, his head split in half like a melon, and finally realizing they had no chance, most ran while some threw down their weapons and surrendered, proving once again that terrorists and extremists were always cowards. Some, however, continued to fight, holding on to some vain hope they could still win. The really stupid ones.

"We need to fall back!" One of the remaining Slayers shouted, breaking off the fight. "We need to get our leader out of here!"

"Stop them. We need information." Hawke called out. Merrill used her magic to control the vines of ivy sticking to the forts walls and caught the fleeing cowards like fish in a net. Hawke approached them, his sword still drawn and wet with Renault's blood, ready to get the answers he needed "Your leader, where is she?!"

"Fuck you, Fereldan!" One of them spat.

"Fenris?" Hawke requested. The Tevinter elf got the message, and gladly obliged. He plunged his hand into the disrespectful one's body and crushed his heart inside his chest. Hawke wasn't messing around any more. There was no time for niceties or diplomacy. Time was running out, and the Hero would go on a rampage soon. He had to get these remaining wastes of space to talk now. "That's not the answer I want to hear. If you tell me what I want to know right now, I promise that you'll live. But if you don't tell me, I'm gonna have Fenris here remove your internal organs one by one. And I'll have him start with your testicles."

That bit of incentive instantly got him a reaction. One of them started bawling and was eager to talk. "Alright, alright, I'll talk! Just get your elf away from me!"

Hawke motioned for Fenris to step away and approached the whimpering Hunter. "Where is she?"

The Slayer hesitated for a moment, then quickly realized he was more afraid of the Champion and his homicidal friends than he was of their leader right now. "She...she's here, in the fortress." He pointed up to the tower on the other side of the courtyard, the tallest remaining one in the building. "She's waiting over there. Renault said she wanted the best view in the castle to watch the city burn."

Hawke looked over to that tower, relieved to know she was nearby, and eager to finally meet her.

"Will...will you let me go?" The Hunter asked.

"Maker, no! I won't let you go." Hawke scoffed. "All I said was I wouldn't kill you. Though you probably will hang from the gallows by the end of the week."

"I don't think I'm going to wait even that long, Hawke." Aveline stated angrily.

_**"Yes! Finish them now! Punish them for the evil they have committed!"** _Shouted an angry, ethereal voice. Justice strode through the doorway wielding Andres' staff with electricity crackling around it, his eyes burning with magic. He came to carry out his reason for existence.

Hawke placed himself between Justice and his would-be victims, refusing to let him pass. "That's enough, Justice! There is no need to kill them if they are no threat."

_**"They are guilty! Murderers and villains, all! They must be punished!"**_ Justice shouted.

"And they will be, but not like this!" Hawke shouted back, refusing to step aside for the displaced Fade Spirit. "Their crimes were committed against us, so will be the ones to judge them, mete out their punishment. Your part in this is done, Spirit. Bring back Anders."

Justice stood there, seething angrily at the Hunters, who were pissing in their pants at the sight of what could only be described as an Abomination, just like the Chantry says about mages. Justice closed his eyes, and released control of Anders' physical form. Anders fell to his knees gasping for air, and rubbed his head like he had a terrible migraine. He looked back up at Hawke, bewildered and hoping nothing bad happened. "Did...did I kill anyone?"

"Only the ones who were threat."

"And Merrill? Is she alright?" Anders asked, hoping for a good answer.

"I'm fine, Anders. Thank you." Merrill answered.

Anders breathed a sigh of relief. For the first time ever, Justice took over with no ill results.

"Petra? Are you well enough to move?" Hawke asked.

"I'm ready to get out of this Maker forsaken ruin. Maybe even get a little payback." Petra assured.

That was all the motivation Hawke needed. "Then come on. It's time to end this."

**~XoXoXo~**

Hawke quickly gathered his gear and raced to that damned tower where this damned mystery leader of the Hunters. They met with some resistance, the more hardcore fanatics of this group, probably acting as bodyguards. He dispatched them with ease, cutting them down with his sword and bashing them with his shield. Hawke had come to far and was too close to be stopped now.

Hawke reached the top floor of the tower and smashed through the door, his sword held in his fist and ready for anything. But what he found there was nothing he thought to expect. Not in the least. He expected to find a terrible threat or a cackling menace, ready to fight to the death, or mock Hawke for his inferiority. Like one of those villains from Varric's books. After everything he had witnessed the Hunters have done, what they were willing to do, he thought this leader of theirs would be a menacing figure, some kind of horrid hag or a witch.

Instead, what he found there in that tower was a woman around his age, maybe a little younger. She sat at a small table next to the window, sipping a glass of wine, looking down at the courtyard with a terrible look of disappointment on her face, but was otherwise unaffected by the turn of events. She wore a beautifully embroided yellow dress, something you might find a noblewoman wearing, and was adorned with jewelry of precious stones and metals. And she was lovely to look at, too. A fair complexion on her heart shaped face, red lips, brown eyes and her mahogany hair was tied in tail with jewelry in it.

There was something seemed oddly familiar about her. The way she looked, how she was made up. Her features, they were...Fereldan?

The mysterious woman glanced over to the Champion as if he were an unwelcomed guest, and she wasn't too keen on giving him a warm welcome. "So, you're here, Champion. I take it Renault is dead?"

"Well, unless you can survive without half your head, I would assume so." Hawke replied, still holding his sword up.

"Too bad. He was rather useful, more so than most of the sorry reprobates I cobbled together." The woman said, casually pouring herself another glass of wine.

"Useful?" Aveline repeated, unable to believe this woman's tone. "The man gave his life for you!"

"That is the reason why soldiers, servants and Chevaliers exist. To die for their masters, with no regard or reward for themselves." The woman waved off nonchalantly. "That he died serving his purpose is no concern to me. It was better than what he was doing for the past few decades."

Hawke couldn't understand. He just tore this whole operation of her down to ruins, killed her best operative. Had ample opportunity to kill her if he wished. How could she just sit there and sip wine like she didn't have a care in the world? "Who are you?"

"Ah, yes, I suppose you must be curious, your mind burning with those little questions you just have to know the answers to." She remarked, blithely tasting her wine. "Well, since you made it this far, I suppose I might as well tell you. Let's start with introductions. My name is Lady Charlotte Esmerelle."

That name rang a bell somewhere in the recesses of Hawke's mind. "Esmerelle? As in...Bann Esmerelle? The ruler of Amaranthine City?"

"Yes, she was my mother. Notice how I said _'was'_, as in the past tense." Charlotte clarified, taking another sip of her wine.

Hawke's eyes went as wide as carriage wheels and his stomach churned at this revelation. He just couldn't believe it. "I don't believe it. You...you're a Fereldan?"

Charlotte's face cringed as if her wine had turned into vinegar in her mouth when Hawke asked that question. "Pft. If you're referring to the country I happened to be born in, then yes. I am, sadly, a Fereldan."

None of them had ever felt so disgusted or confounded in their whole lives. This wretched woman was the architect of so much pain, and was willing to subjugate others, who had already lost so much, to even more agony. And worst of all, she was willingly doing it to her own countrymen.

"Hmm. I can tell by those stupid looks on your faces that you're all confused." Charlotte said harshly. "I suppose you want to know why?"

"After everything you've done, we _demand_ to know why, you evil bitch!" Aveline shouted, infuriated and doing her best to hold back her twitching sword hand.

"How could you do this to your own people?!" Merrill asked appalled. She couldn't fathom how someone could do something so horrid, especially to their own kind.

"Even the Merchant's Guild's got more compassion than you do, and they'd sell their own mothers out for a lyrium vein!" Varric cursed.

"Why waste time with words? Let's just kill this bitch and be done with it!" Fenris suggested viciously, ready to chop this shem in half in a heartbeat.

"Wait." Hawke urged his increasingly hostile comrades. He wanted to cut this bitch down just as badly as they did, but first he wanted answers. He noticed the staff resting against the wall right behind Charlotte. It was shaped like a blooming rose with a massive white gem in its petals. He also recognized its materials: red steel wrapped in wyvern skin, probably with a lyrium core inside. That's when he realized another massive piece of the puzzle that had alluded him all this time. "You're the mage, aren't you? The one that turned Sean and Vanard into living bombs, and was going to do the same thing to the people Castillon was holding prisoner."

"Most impressive. You're rather sharp for an ill-bred farmboy and son of an apostate. Your reputation as a detective is well earned." Charlotte complimented sarcastically. "Yes. I'm the mage you're looking for, and I was the one behind the attack on the gathering in Lowtown. I must admit, I was rather disappointed with the result. I was hoping it would kill even more, and intended to intensify my spell's magnitude with the refugees, but your actions made that impossible. Oh, well. Makes little difference."

Little difference? Murdering and maiming all those people in Lowtown was of little difference? Wanting to turn more innocent people, women and children alike, into living weapons? Was life so meaningless to the wretched hag?

Hawke sat down on the opposite side of Charlotte's table, resting his sword right in front of her, and ready to chop off her pretty head if she moved wrong. "Alright, now I really want to know. All this death, this pain and misery you've caused. Why?"

Charlotte couldn't help but chuckle at the Champion simple question. Simple yet so demanding. "If you're looking for a complicated reasoning, one where you find something twisted horribly wrong in my psyche, I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. This is about revenge. Plain and simple."

"Revenge?" Hawke repeated in disbelief. "Against who? Me?"

"You? Hah! Don't flatter yourself, Champion. No, my vengeance is with the so-called Hero of Ferelden, who else?" Charlotte answered, animosity for that man clear.

"What could Aedan Cousland have possibly done to you that could justify all the pain you've caused?"

"He destroyed my family." The terrorist mage answered hatefully. "Everything that befell us was his fault. My mother, Bann Esmerelle of Amaranthine, a wealthy and powerful woman, sent me to Orlais when my magic manifested to learn in private, instead of being sent to the Circle in dog-smelling, backwater Ferelden. I particularly excelled in the School of Entropy."

"So that's how you were able to use the Walking Bomb spell to such a potent degree." Anders concluded.

"Tch. A noble and a mage that thinks she can get away with anything just because she was born into power. It seems the South has more in common with the Imperium than most realize." Fenris hissed.

"My mother was a master of politics. She knew which way the wind was blowing when the Blight began, and gave Arl Howe our family's support when the Civil War started." Charlotte continued, relaxing in her seat and sipping more of her wine. "Arl Howe generously rewarded my mother for her support, and my family was elevated to heights we never even dreamed of. But all of that changed when that wretched Cousland boy showed up and placed that wayward bastard Alistair on the throne." She cringed and seethed hatefully at the mere mention of those names. "He killed Arl Howe, cannibalized him, if the rumors are to be believed. Then everything my family gained was destroyed."

Aveline grunted in disgust at the woman's tale. "If even half of what I've heard about Arl Howe is true, then your family deserved what happened to you!"

"Then I suppose you're father deserved whatever happened to him when he fled Orlais like a coward when his patron died." Charlotte rebutted calmly. "After all, you here so many rumors about Chevaliers, most of them very true."

"Cut the shit, woman." Hawke interjected. "What does any of this have to do with the Hero?"

"My mother did what any loyal subject does for their benefactor, and sought to avenge Howe. Unfortunately, Cousland found out about it, and killed her." Charlotte finally answered, pouring herself another glass. "Made it look like a suicide, that she hanged herself in her bedroom. It fooled everyone else, but she sent a letter to Val Chevin telling me the truth should anything happen to her. And after that, I swore to avenge me dear mother."

"So you gathered allies, and laid out plans to do this." Hawke stated.

"Yes. As you can imagine, a plot like this takes time, but vengeance is a fruit sweetest when it's ripe." Charlotte confirmed. "Waiting for the right time was the hardest, but I finally found my opportunity about half a year ago when I heard that King Alistair was going to attempt to bring his wayward subjects home, and that the illustrious Hero would carry it out. After that, I had everything I would need to avenge my mother."

"So you sought out cohorts to help you carry out this plan of yours. People you knew who would have an axe to grind." Hawke could finally see the dots connecting.

"Yes. Finding people with a grudge, especially against you, was the easy part." Charlotte acknowledged. "I sought out Renault, who was selling his services out as a mercenary, and convinced him to train what was left of the Dog-Lord Slayers so that he could get his vengeance on the country that robbed him of his status. I found Jeven, who was so desperate to get back the respect he lost as Guard-Captain, and had him recruit and lead the Slayers publically. And Vanard, he wanted to watch you suffer for killing his son, so he financed the Slayers with everything they needed. I gave them a cause. Something to hate, and then they were all willing to lay their lives down for me. All their grudges, their vengeance, merely tools to carry out mine."

"You hired Castillon to hold the refugees Jeven captured so you could turn them into living land mines."

"Well, I needed to find fuel for the fire somewhere, and since those people weren't doing anything useful, I decided to give their pathetic lives a little more meaning." Charlotte laughed cruelly.

"Yeah? Well it looks to me like you're the one who wasted your life." Hawke condemned. "All the resources you wasted, the people you used, all for nothing. All the fanatics you hid behind are dead, along with the men you used to operate them. Your vengeance is finished."

Charlotte cackled hysterically, almost spilling her wine. That was the most emotion they had seen from her. "Oh, poor Champion. Such a brilliant man, yet you think so small. You really think that leading a small-minded group of fanatics, capturing a bunch of refugees and turning them into human explosives was my final goal? My revenge? Hardly. Didn't I tell you? My vengeance is against Cousland, not you or this city. Kirkwall and everyone in it are just...collateral damage for grander scheme."

"What are talking about?" Hawke asked, gravely concerned. What else could she be plotting?

"I knew no one could possibly defeat him in battle. So how do you make the most patriotic warrior in Ferelden suffer? By destroying the country he loves." Charlotte's eyes flashed evilly as a wicked grin spread across her pretty face. "Cousland poured his heart and soul into restoring Amaranthine when he led the Arling. Defended the city and it from the darkspawn, even as they laid waste to his own keep. He's even made the city the trading hub of Northern Ferelden. An accomplishment any lord would be proud of. Imagine how much it would crush him to see all that hard work go up in smoke?"

"Cut to the chase, woman. What are you talking about!?" Hawke demanded.

"Why do you think I had Cousland's little mage kidnapped? To give him cause to raze this city to the ground!" Charlotte finally answered. "I'm well aware of the man's touching devotion to his country and his people, and I knew that having one of his underlings kidnapped after witnessing such a brutal attack on his own people would be the straw to break his back. And when he lays waste to this city, my vengeance will come to fruition."

"How is declaring war with Kirkwall going to punish the Hero?! You're insane!" Aveline denounced.

"Economics. Amaranthine is the newest and most prosperous trading city in Ferelden, bringing the country much needed wealth to help them recover from the Blight." Charlotte explained maliciously. "How badly do you think their economy will plummet when Aedan destroys another, much needed, trading city? All the other countries will sever their trading contracts with Amaranthine, and the Free Marches will start backing Ferelden's enemies to make him pay for what he's done. Ferelden will be in such financial ruin, it will never recover. The Hero of Ferelden will have to watch as his own countrymen starve to death in squalor, and the best part is, it will be all his fault."

That's when it all came rushing into Hawke's mind like a title wave. The terrorist attacks, the kidnapping, the Slayers, all of it was one big smokescreen Charlotte used to distract them from the obvious. They had all been suckered by this woman, and feel right into her trap. Ferelden had been struggling to recover from the Blight and Civil war, and it relied heavily on Amaranthine to bring in trade and revenue to support their healing economy. If Aedan went through with his threat, he could set the entire Free Marches against Ferelden; they might even support Orlais in its efforts to regain their lost colony. How could they all have been so stupid?

Hawke wasn't ready to give in. He had come too far and done too much for this city just to watch it go up in smoke because of this insane hag's warped need for vengeance. "It's not going to come to that, you twisted bitch. We've got Petra safe and sound, and you're going to answer to the Hero yourself."

"Ha! Did you really think I would risk everything in a fight with you, Champion? Did you really think I would allow myself to be taken and judged by my mother's killer?" Charlotte laughed, finishing the last of her wine. "You see, while you and I have been chatting, I've been drinking wine laced with nightshade. I'll be dead very soon, but alive just long enough to watch your city burn. Ha, ha, ha!"

Hawke finally had enough of this woman's mouth, and smacked her right out of her seat and threw her bottle of poison out the window. "Anders, can you neutralize the poison?"

"I'm not sure. She's ingested a lot of it, and it's sure to be in her bloodstream by now." The mage healer answered.

"Why are you even bothering to try saving this bitch after everything she's done?" Aveline asked incredulously.

"Is it not our duty as Andrastians to save others, even our enemies?" Sebastian piously suggested.

"Drinking a glass of poison like an Orlesian sycophant, that's too easy for this harridan." Hawke answered. "She's going to answer for what's she's done, even if I have to find a necromancer and bring her back from the dead to do it."

"Hawke, there's not much I can do, even if we were at my clinic." Anders informed grimly. "After ingesting that much nightshade, I'm surprised she's not dead already."

"I can do it." Merrill spoke out, surprising everyone. "I can remove the poison from her blood, but I can't do it alone."

"What do you need from us, Merrill?"

"No! No, I will not let you subject me to that bastard!" Charlotte protested. She tried to reach for her staff, but the poison was already affecting her. Then Isabella kicked her in the face and knocked her out.

"Why don't you make like the cheap prostitute you are, and just lay there and take it." Isabella hissed at Charlotte. "Anyway, what were you saying, Kitten?"

Merrill took a deep breath, trying to pick up her confidence. She had never done anything like this before, but wasn't going to let her lover down. "I need you to open her veins..."

"Whoa, now. How's killing her going to stop her from dying, Daisy?" Varric asked.

"I'm going to use my magic to purge the poison from her blood. Anders, I need you to use your healing magic to keep the process from killing her, and reintroduce her blood back into her body." Merrill explained.

"Blood magic? Hasn't magic caused enough trouble here already?!" Fenris said outraged. "Just let her die, Hawke. No point in wasting time when she deserves it."

"No." Hawke refuted sternly. "Merely killing someone is not always enough. True justice is found when the guilty face their punishment. Merill, do what you have to, while I do what I have to."

Merrill nodded and summoned all her confidence to do this. She grabbed the knife she kept in her pouch and gently cut open the knocked out terrorist's wrists. The Dalish mage used her bloodmagic to suspend Charlotte's blood in the air, capturing it a macabre ball of red that glowed brightly, and purified the poison from it. While Merrill did that, Anders placed his hands over Charlotte's chest, summoning a gentle white corona of healing magic that kept her from dying from blood loss until Merrill streamed it back into her veins.

This was going to be a long process, and Hawke didn't have time to wait. The sun was just about gone from the sky. The deadline was up.

**~XoXoXo~**

Aedan watch as the last slivers of sunlight receded over the horizon. His deadline was met, and the Champion wasn't even here to try and stop him. Perhaps something had happened. Perhaps the Champion was in danger, and these fanatics were delaying him. It didn't matter. The Sergeant could take care of himself, but Petra was still in danger. All else aside, Aedan was a man of his word.

"Neither the Champion nor Petra are here. The deadline is over. It is time." Aedan declared with finality. He picked up his axe and strode to the door, only for Grand-Cleric Elthina to stand in his way with a determined yet beseeching look on her face.

"Lord Cousland, please, I beg you!" Elthina spoke ardently. "You do not need to do this. Hasn't enough blood been spilt?"

"So long as there are those who would threaten my people, no. Not nearly enough blood has been spilt." Aedan snorted.

"Death only leads to more death, you're only making the cycle of violence continue." Elthina tried to reason.

"Since you've wasted most of your life in the Chantry, you've probably never lived a day in the real world, so let me give you the news flash: that's the world we live in. It's violent and cruel." Aedan rebuked vehemently. "However, since you seem so determined to stop me, I'll give you a choice." Aedan pulled out the hunting knife he had strapped to his belt and offered it to Elthina. "Take my knife and draw my blood. If you do, I'll honor your resolve and do nothing. Or you can get out of my way, and prayer to your hollow Maker."

Elthina looked at the Hero and the knife he held horribly aghast. How could he think to give he such a choice?

"I'm giving you the opportunity to save lives, Grand Cleric. You should take it, and stop me. This is what I have to live with every day. Making choices that determine whether people live or die, and how much blood I'm willing to shed for my people." Aedan urged, that vicious look in his eyes was akin to a hungry wolf's. He rarely ever gave anyone a choice like this, yet Elthina was hesitating. "Are you going to take it? No? Then get the fuck out of my way."

Elthina finally gave in. She couldn't do it. She swore a holy vow to never shed the blood of another person, even those who may deserve punishment. Such actions were the duty of the Maker. She would never shed the blood of another person, no matter the cost. Elthina finally moved aside, and didn't bother looking the Hero in the eye.

Aedan scoffed in disgust, sheathed his knife and began his walk out of the Chantry. "That's why you are a failure to this city, Elthina. You lack even the conviction to save lives. Try explaining that to your god."

With that final word, Aedan left Elthina stunned and afraid for what he was about to do. The Hero smiled sinisterly as he marched out of the Chantry, axe in hand; it had been a long time desire of his to lay waste to the pretentious Templars, and now he could finally make that dream come true. By dawn, there wouldn't be a stone left standing in the Gallows.

**~XoXoXo~**

The sky had become dark, day had turned into night, and Aedan's time limit was now officially dead. Hawke couldn't stop now, not after he had done so much to prevent this. He had to stop any more violence from happening. While his comrades deal with the vestiges of the Slayers, and saving Charlotte's ungrateful life, Hawke had to get Petra to Aedan, if he was going to stop his onslaught.

"Petra, we need to move, now!" Hawke said ardently. "I'd rather not see Charlotte's insanity pay off."

"I saw a stable down near the courtyard. We can use that to reach the city." Petra informed.

Charlotte eyes fluttered open and laughed weakly at Hawke's efforts. "Y-you're too late, Champion. You'll save no one. I won!"

Charlotte's laughter was cut short when Aveline fist slammed down into her face, knocking her back out, giving Aveline a deep sense of satisfaction. "Oh, that felt good."

"Go, Hawke. We'll handle thing from here." Varric hurried.

Hawke took his friends advice, grabbed Petra by the hand and raced down to the courtyard, looking for the damned stables. By the time they got there, most of the horses had been taken by the Slayers who managed to flee Justice's wrath. There was one horse left, but it was about to be taken by one of the remaining terrorists. Hawke grabbed the man by his leg and yanked him off the horse. Petra kicked him in the face as hard as she could, payback for kidnapping her in the first place.

This mare was old, past her prime, didn't even have a saddle. It was more suited carrying carriages than people, and Hawke wasn't even sure it could charge halfway to the city, let alone carry two people there, but it was all they had. Petra held on tight while Hawke got the horse running. They raced out of the ruins, as fast as this rundown old nag could carry them. Unfortunately, there were still some Slayers littered about who wanted the Champion dead.

"Kill him! Bring him down!" One of the Slayers ordered furiously.

Hawke slashed at the Slayers who tried to stop their escape, severing their heads and limbs at full charge with his keyblade. Hawke saw archers ahead, aiming to shoot them down, and riding on a old horse like this, they were easy targets. "Petra! If you know any offensive spells, now's the time to use them!"

"Got it!" The young mage confirmed. She channeled her magic and extended her arms out. Her hands became ablaze and she shot multiple fireballs at the archers that were targeting them.

They managed to get away from the Slayers, but they were still too far from the city and not moving fast enough. Desperate time call for desperate measures.

"Petra, you know fire spells, right?"

"Yes, of course I do." Petra answered.

"Well, I need you to light this horse's ass on fire!"

"What?!" Petra asked, totally shocked.

"Light this nag's ass on fire! It's only way to make it run fast enough!"

Petra hesitated for a moment. As a healer, she hated causing pain to other living creatures. But they were in a hurry. "Sorry about this, horsey."

The horse in fear and pain with the fire on its flanks, and it's natural instinct to run even faster kicked in. Hawke and Petra had to hold on even tighter not to get bucked off its back. At this rate they'd be in this city soon.

**~XoXoXo~**

The citizens of Kirkwall screamed in fear and confusion, and got the hell out of the way at the sight of the Champion riding a horse that was on fire and quickly got out of his way while raced through the city to Hightown. By the time they arrived at the Chantry, the horse's heart finally gave out and collapsed and died. Petra was kind enough to at least douse the flames off its smoldering carcass. With a prayer on Hawke's lips, the two of them ran up the stairs to the Chantry, hoping they weren't too late.

Elthina heard the doors of the Chantry crash open, and to her relief, it was the Champion, with the young lady he was tasked with finding. It was like an answer to her prayers. "Champion? Thank the Maker!"

"General Cousland!" Hawke shouted, hoping to the Maker he wasn't too late. He saw the Grand Cleric there, and no one else. "Damn it! Am I too late?!"

"Petra?! You're here. You're safe!" Shouted a familiar voice. It was Amythene, Aedan's elven squire. Along with Bevin, Teagan's young brother-in-law. Petra ran up to her two comrades and hugged them both, so happy to be able to see them again.

"Petra, we saw the Templars take you. What happened?" Bevin asked earnestly.

"There's no time to explain. We need to see the Commander, before he makes a horrible mistake." Petra stressed.

"I'm sorry, but Lord Cousland has already left for the Gallows. If he's not there now, he soon will be." Elthina informed sorrowfully.

Hawke couldn't believe this. "You just let him go? Why didn't you try to stop him?"

"I...the price of stopping him was more than I was willing to pay." Elthina confessed, breathing a sigh of shame.

Hawke looked outside the door at the sky, and aside from the dead carcass of a burned horse at the steps of the Chantry, everything seemed normal. For the moment. "The city's not on fire, yet. I might still be able to catch him."

"We'll go with you." Petra volunteered. "He's doing this for my sake. When he sees me safe, I know he'll listen to reason."

"Then we need to get going now. Before the Hero turns the Gallows into a mass grave."

**~XoXoXo~**

The night was quiet and the summer air was warm. The mages had all been confined in their quarters for the night, as was protocol now. Ever since Meredith took to becoming the fulltime guardian of Kirkwall, she had taken extra measures to try and stop the rampant abuse of magic that plagued this city. After the brutal death of the Champion's mother, it became apparent extra measures were needed. The Gallows was as still and as quiet as a frozen lake, and some might say it was twice as cold.

Cullen was the officer in charge for the night watch this evening. He was still upset about the attack that happened at that rally yesterday and how so many of his fellow Fereldans were killed and injured. He was truly hoping the Champion and the Guard-Captain would be successful in their hunt for the criminals behind this tragedy. However, no matter his own feelings, Cullen still had a duty to perform. Knight-Commander Meredith gave their sacred duty everything she had, Cullen could do no less.

So far, the night was quiet. Nothing out of the ordinary, but Cullen knew that vigilance was their most important weapon. Then he noticed something that was quite out of the ordinary. The Templar who were supposed to be guarding the ferry port, they were running away from their post. Judging from the looks on their faces, you'd think there were darkspawn after them.

"Knight-Captain Cullen! Close the gate!" One of the guards shouted, his face bloodied and one of his eyes swollen shut.

The two of them made it into the Gallows' courtyard and desperately tried to close the two massive metal doors behind them, to keep whatever was chasing them out.

"What in Andraste's holy name is going on here?!" Cullen demanded, angry and embarrassed to see his fellow Templars scared and crying like frightened children.

"Ser, pleas! We need to shut the gate! He's insane!" One of the guards pleaded desperately, pushing the door with all his might.

Cullen grunted in disgust, but motioned for his men to close the gates. He learned a long time ago that it was always better to be safe than sorry. Once the two massive metal doors slammed shut and their deadbolts fell firmly into their locks, Cullen turned his attention to the two crying Templars.

"Alright, the gate is closed and securely locked, now would you mind telling me what's going on?" Cullen demanded.

"Knight-Captain, he's insane! Completely insane!" One of the men sobbed.

"Who is insane? Damn it all, man. Tell me!" Cullen wanted answers, and wanted them now.

"It...it's a demon, guised as a man!" The other Templar finally screamed.

A loud crash erupted from the sealed gate. Like something had slammed against it. Something big. It pounded again, and again, making the door groan horribly as it was hit. The two Templars who so desperately thought that door would save them instantly pissed in their robes at the realization that there was no escape, for any of them.

"Oh, sweet bleeding Maker! He's here!" One of the cowards wailed.

Cullen and the other Templars watched in horror as the pounding became faster, harder, leaving massive dents in the three foot thick steel doors. What the hell was out there? The Knight-Captain wasn't about to back down in cower in the very heart of the Templars' very seat. Whatever this was, demon, monster or otherwise, he and his men would stand against it, and defeat it.

"Men, form ranks! Stand ready!" Cullen ordered, drawing his sword.

The Templars moved around the door to make battle formations, but it was too late. Whatever it was on the other side smashed the massive gates off their hinges, sending them flying into the courtyard. Every Templar there ducked to the floor to avoid being hit by the massive doors that flew past them. The two cowardly Templars curled into the fetal position and started praying at the sight of their tormentor.

Cullen couldn't believe his eyes. Aedan Cousland just knocked down their front gate with his bare hands. Strapped to the Hero's back was that gruesome axe of his. His eyes were burning red with rage and was surrounded by what could only be described as a demonic aura that made him seem more beast than man. And he looked incredibly pissed off.

"Lord Cousland?" Cullen addressed, completely shocked. Before he could get another word out, several of Cullen's fellow Templars foolishly attacked the Fereldan warlord. "No, stop! Do not engage!"

But it was too late. Aedan didn't even bother using his axe on the three Templar fools who were stupid enough to attack him on their own. Aedan used his Reaver ability of Frightening Appearance and donned the look of a horned demon, scarring the first Templar cower to her knees in a screaming wreck. The second Templar charged Aedan down, swinging his sword madly. Aedan dodged the blade and backhanded him so hard, the Templar was sent flying. Aedan ran up to the third Templar that dared to attack him, grabbed him by the neck, and threw him like a ragdoll into the crowd of other Templars, making them all crash like a set of bowling pins.

Cullen knew all too well that any attempt to fight the Hero was futile and suicidal. He appraoched the rampaging General with his sword sheathed, hoping to reason with him as a fellow Fereldan. "Lord Cousland! Please, there is no need to, hrkh!"

Aedan did not heed the Templars words. The time for talking was over. Aedan grabbed Cullen by the neck and slammed him flat on the ground, knocking the wind out of him. Before Cullen even had time to catch his breath, Aedan stomped his foot on the Templar's chest, fracturing his breastplate and several ribs. Cullen almost blacked out from the pain. Aedan genlty glided the dge of his axe blade along Cullen's face, before raising it above his head, ready to fulfill his purpose. "You die first!"

Every Templar in the courtyard watched in horror as Aedan's axe descended down on Cullen, aiming to cleave his skull in half. In his final split seconds of life, Cullen readied to great the Maker.

A thunderous clang echoed throughout the Gallows and the very air was filled with a powerful stillness. The Templars were shocked into silence by what they had just witnessed. The Champion, at the last second, dove between Cullen and the Aedan, and stopped the Hero's deathblow with his keyblade. It took all of Garret's strength and will to stop the axe swing from killing Cullen.

"Aedan, enough of this madness!" Hawke demanded, holding back the strength of Aedan's axe.

Aedan was now more pissed off than ever at the Sergeant's interference. He roared in utter rager, rearing back his axe and swung it with such force and speed it would give normal man whiplash. Hawke was barely able to block the strike in time with his shield, but was sent hurdling back several yards, almost unable to stay on his feet. The last time Hawke was struck like that, he was fighting an ogre. Just how strong was the Hero?

"Commander, please stop! You're making a horrible mistake!" Pleaded a familiar voice.

"Petra?" Aedan red eyes returned to their normal blue and the demonic aura surrounding him finally died at the sight of his comrade, safe and unharmed with Amythene and Bevin beside her. "Petra, are you alright?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm fine. Thanks to the Champion, here." Petra assured.

Hawke breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of Aedan finally calming down. Garret had no idea who would win in a fight between him and the Hero, and truth be told, he never wanted to find out. He looked around and saw the devastation Aedan had just cause, and that it was a genuine miracle that no one was dead. "Lord Cousland, you and I need to talk. Maybe we should go somewhere else?"

Aedan looked around the Gallow's courtyard and saw all the people he had hurt, scarred, and otherwise damaged for life. He was rather satisfied with what he had accomplished in ten minutes. "Well, I'm done here now. Lead the way, Sergeant."

"No one is going anywhere!" An authoritative and angry voice shouted viciously. Knight-Commander Meredith strode out of the Gallows to see what was going on, and was extrememly livid to see that the so-called Hero of Ferelden was behind all this damage. "You! You dare attack the Templars?! This is an assault against everything that is held sacred in Thedas!"

"Not so sacred to me." Aedan scoffed. "Since you wouldn't even meet with me to explain just what the fuck is going on with your Templars in this city, it seemed this was the best way for me to get your attention."

"I am under no obligation to you!" Meredith spat vehemently. "You think you can get away with this sacrilege?! I"ll have you in chains and hanged for this outrage!"

"No, Meredith, you will not." A soft, gentle voice bade. Grand Cleric Elthina made her way through the ruined doors of the Gallows, every Templar there showed her deference and respect. "Hasn't there been enough pain and suffering in the last couple of days?"

"Your Grace, this...this savage is the one responsible for all this pain." Meredith argued. "Am I to just let him walk away after what he has done?"

"Only if you're smart, and value your life." Aedan commented rudely.

Elthina gave the Hero an unappreciated look, but turned her attention back to the Knight-Commander. "Meredith, no one has died, and there is no more need for pain or vengeance. Is it not the will of the Maker that we forgive those who trespass against us? Look to your men, Meredith. Help them, and do not let this matter degenerate any more than it already has."

Meredith grunted a breath of indignant outrage, but ultimately caved in to the Grand Cleric's words. "Yes, Your Grace." Meredith turned on her heel and rigidly walked away, he anger apparent in her every step.

"It looks like the Champion did your job for you, Strannard." Aedan called out to the angry Knight-Commander. "Maybe you should take after his example, then you might actually by an effective leader."

Meredith froze in her steps, her anger about to explode, but didn't look back. She would not give this heinous blasphemer the satisfaction of seeing her reaction.

"I believe you should go now, Lord Cousland." Elthina said sternly. She looked over to the Champion, and gave him a thankful nod. "Thank you, Champion. What you did here stopped a terrible situation from getting worse, and prevented what would have been a terrible tragedy. I hope that you will be able to resolve this matter."

"I already have, Your Grace." Hawke assured. It was time to resolve this matter once and for all.

**~XoXoXo~**

Varric took a moment to pause his story and took a nice, long drink of cold ale from his mug. While he was enjoying drink, everyone else was staring at Cullen in utter shock and disbelief, much to the Commander's chagrin.

"Cullen, the Hero of Ferelden almost killed you?" Cassandra asked, almost unable to believe this story.

"Consider yourself luck. Most people who have Aedan's axe swung at their face never live to tell about it." Leliana spoke from personal experience on the matter.

"Trust me, it's one of the things I'm thankful for every time I pray." Cullen responded.

"What was it like? Seeing the Hero of Ferelden in action?" Josephine asked earnestly.

"Well, Ambassador, seeing as he was out to kill me and all the Templars surrounding him, I guess you could say it was utterly terrifying." Cullen answered, shuddering at the memory of it.

"You had nightmares for a week. The sight of the Hero's red eyes burning a hole straight into your very being, and his axe descending down on your face." Cole whispered in quiet, creepy manner. "You wonder if he's going to eat you after he kills you, then you wake up screaming for your sister Mia."

Cullen groaned and buried his hands in embarrassment; Cole just revealed one of his closely guarded secrets to everyone he works with. "Thank you, Cole."

"Now, now, Commander, no need to be ashamed." Dorian consoled in that glib tone of his that made it hard to know if he was being sarcastic or not. "Being afraid of murderous, cannibalistic Fereldan warlords is a perfectly natural thing. Why, just hearing the stories about this man is going to give _me_ nightmares."

"Damn, can you imagine what would happen if the Hero and the Champion actually did go at it?" Iron Bull laughed. "I would pay serious money to see that!"

"I'd actually put my money on the Champion." Blackwall stated as if they were actually betting. "The Hero might have inhuman abilities, but the Champion has superior equipment, and he knows how to use them. In my experience, that's almost always the deciding factory."

"You're dreaming, man. I'd put every coin I got on the Hero." Iron Bull contended. "Last I heard, the Champion didn't stop a whole Blight all on his own. Hey, Leliana, you met both these guys, who would you bet on?"

"Oh, I would never take odds on something like that. If the Maker is kind, something like that will never happen. Think of all the collateral damage." Leliana rationalized.

"Despite what she intended, you must credit Charlotte's ingenuity." Vivienne complimented professionally. "She was able to flawlessly predict the Hero's attitude, and turn his strengths into a weapon against him. And her knowledge and use of the political and economic ramifications was flawless, as well. If she had chosen to stay in Orlais, she would have been a formidable player in the Game."

"Pft! Of course you would think what she did was all fine and dandy." Sera scoffed in disgust. "Doesn't matter that she got a whole lot of people hurt, as long as she did a good job of it."

"I won't deny what the woman did was deplorable, but her ingenuity and strategy was impeccable. Any wise or intelligent player would respect such an opponent." Vivienne clarified haughtily.

Sera just blew Vivienne another raspberry and two-fingered salute.

"Yeah, so? Come on, Varric. What happened next?" Rajmael asked earnestly.

Varric gulped down what was left of his ale and let out a deep, satisfying sigh. "Well, what do you expect? It's a story with the Champion and the Hero in it. There's some really happy bits, and then, there's the stuff of nightmares."

**~XoXoXo~**

Aedan and his subordinates followed Hawke out of the Gallows and went over to the Guardsman's Barracks in the Viscount's Keep. Aedan wanted answers, and now Hawke finally had some to give. Hawke explained to Aedan everything he had learned over the paste thirty-two hours. Rescuing their people from Castillon, his duel with Renault, and the elaborate machinations of Charlotte Esmerelle, daughter of Bann Esmerelle, and how she plotted the ruination of their homeland.

"Hmph. Well, I have to admit, that was one hell of a plan. I have to give her credit, her plan was so elaborate, yet so simple." Aedan confessed, rather impressed, but nonetheless was still disgusted by this woman.

Hawke heard the doors open and was gladdened to his comrades finally arriving, with a certain prisoner in tow. "Well, well. Speak of the she-devil, and she shall appear."

Aveline shoved Charlotte into the building, wearing the same bonds she used on Merrill and Anders. To avoid listening to anymore of her bullshit, they had Charlotte firmly gagged. It would seem the boot was another other foot now.

"Ma vhenan!" Merrill said happily. She was so overjoyed to see Hawke unharmed, she ran into his arms and held him close. "I'm so glad you're alright."

"We should celebrate this moment." Isabella suggested. "Later. In private, behind closed doors. Hmm, and with leashes."

"Oh, please, shut up, whore." Aveline groaned.

Aedan glared at the bound apostate and terrorist the same way he would look at a lamb to slaughter. All this pain and misery caused by a single woman. There was a lot of malice behind that pretty face. "So. This is Bann Esmerelle's little spawn. A conniving, backstabbing bitch, just like her mother. Well, now she can share her mother's fate."

Charlotte glared at the object of her hatred with such intensity that if looks could kill, Aedan would dying a horrible death. She cursed and raged behind her gag, struggled against he bonds in the hopes being able to unleash a spell on him, or at least gouge his eyes out. Aveline knocked Charlotte out again, just to be safe, and probably because it was fun, then had her hauled into the Guards' most secure cell.

"What do you intend to do with her, General?" Aveline asked curiously.

"I will take her back to Ferelden, where she will be tried for her crimes against our people, then summarily hanged." Aedan answered casually. "Then her body will decorate the gates of Amaranthine while the birds feast on her flesh until only her bones remain."

"You won't even give her the decency of proper pyre?" Sebastian asked appalled.

"After the sick shit she has done, everything she would have done? Trust me, this is mercy were her fate left in my hands. Sadly, punishments for the crimes of treason and terrorism are up to the king and his court to mete out." Aedan answered with a hint of regret in his voice. "In the end, I think there's a valuable lesson to be learned from all this."

"Try to think before you act, especially when you're about to commit a slaughter that could lead to an international incident?" Aveline pointed out.

"No. Next time I deal with traitors to my country, I should just kill their whole family." Aedan said, deathly serious. His answer further disturbing Hawke's companions. The only one who didn't seemed put off by his attitude was Anders, but he was used to this guy already. Aedan turned his attention back to Hawke, with a look of gratitude on his face that was foreign to everyone else. "You did a great service for our people, Sergeant. I shall see to it that King Alistair knows what you did for our people, and that you are paid the bounty for Renault's head. If you ever wish to return to Ferelden, you will have friends there. You do our people proud, Sergeant."

Hawke was deeply humbled by the Hero's words. To be praised by his country's greatest living legend was no small thing, even if he was almost killed by him. But there was one last issue to resolve. "General, there's one last thing you should know. Everyone who was involved in this plot was motivated by revenge. Even if it was some sort of twisted logic, or an excuse they used to blame someone else, they still had reasons they could justify. Except one. One of Charlotte's conspirators aided in her lunacy solely for the money she gave him."

A flame of red burned in Aedan's eyes at this information. "Really? And who was that?"

"Someone we both loath, and someone who has been on your shit-list for nearly a decade." Hawke answered.

**~XoXoXo~**

Hawke brought the Hero of Ferelden to the hidden port where the Ferelden refugees had been so recently kept prisoner. Where Castillon was now being kept prisoner. Hawke unlocked the cell and threw the tied up and gagged Antivan criminal at Aedan's feet.

"Who is this?" Aedan inquired.

"This was the slaving scum that was holding our people prisoner." Hawke informed, ready to let the Hero do what he does best. "During the Blight, he tricked and kidnapped many Fereldans who wanted to flee the Blight, and was going to sell them into slavery up north. Most of them were from the Denerim Alienage, the people Isabella freed."

Aedan's eyes gleamed like a demons and glared down at the Antivan filth in front of him, realizing the severity of the man's crimes. And here he thought he wasn't going to enjoy himself in Kirkwall. "Bevin. Set up a chair for our Antivan friend. Amythene, bring me a funnel. And Petra? Start a fire, and hang an empty pot over it."

Hawke stepped away and stood with his comrades, ready to see the actions that make the Hero so infamous. It was no surprise that some of Hawke's comrades had second thoughts about doing this.

"Hawke, are you sure this is what should be done?" Aveline asked apprehensively. As Guard-Captain, she was uncertain whether or not they should just let this happen, even if the bastard did deserve it."

"Twice now, Castillon has trespassed against our countrymen, Aveline. To him, the lives he helped ruin were nothing more than numbers in his profit margins." Hawke answered with disgust for the man. If he is to be punished for the crimes against our people, it should be done by the hands of our country's fiercest protector."

"But you know what Lord Cousland is going to do to him." Sebastian protested. "If we allow this to happen, how are we any better than Castillon."

"Don't be naïve, Sebastian." Fenris spoke out fiercely. "That man sews misery all for money. Do you think he considers the lives he destroys? He looks at peasants and sees commodities to be sold, like cattle. Parasites like him infest the Imperium, the world is better off without them."

"What do you think Rivaini? I mean, you actually know the guy." Varric inquired curiously. "I mean, sure he had a bounty on your head, and wanted to kill you, but isn't there some pirate code that says to aid your fellow criminals?"

"I think it's better him than me." Isabella answered blithely, not really caring what was about to happen. "One of the hard truths about being a pirate is you have to be ready to face up to the people you piss off if you get caught. Castillon pissed off the wrong people and he got caught. Pirate code says he deserves it."

Both his squires did as their commander ordered. Within moments, Castillon was sitting upright in a chair, while Amythene got a fire going with an empty pot resting over it. "Now, you two take Petra back to the ship, and make sure she gets plenty of rest. I don't want any of you to see this."

"No. I'm not going anywhere." Amethyne refused staunchly. Aedan quirked an eyebrow at his young squire, never expecting insubordination from her. "Commander, I'm from the Denerim Alienage, too. There were people I knew who were sold into slavery. I want to see the justice that was denied them."

"I'm your squire, Commander. Part of that job is knowing the dark, dirty facts of this profession. I'm not going to walk away simply because things get ugly." Bevin said loyally, standing at Amythene's side.

"And what about you, Petra?" Aedan asked.

"This man was willing to stand by and let innocent people be turned into living explosives, not to mention he had his men kidnap me." Petra spoke out. "I may not approve of the violence, but like Bevin said, I'm not going to just walk away when things get ugly."

Aedan nodded to his three comrades, gladdened to have their loyalty, then turned his attention back to the Antivan piece of shit before him. He knelt down low, and removed the gag from his mouth, observing his broken nose and missing teeth. "Hmph. It would seem the Champion already softened you up for me. Don't worry, I can still get my kicks out of you. Do you know who I am?"

"I...I don't b-believe I've had the pleasure of making your acquaintance yet, serrah." Castillon whispered, his voice coarse from his parched throat.

"Tell me, slaver, how much is a Fereldan slave worth?" Aedan asked maliciously.

Castillon swallowed hard, trying to get enough moisture in his mouth to talk. "W-well...f-for a healthy specimen, the premium rate is a hundred sovereigns a head."

"A hundred sovereigns? Not a bad price." Aedan admitted. He turned around and approached the burning hot fire behind him and dropped a hundred sovereigns from his own purse into the scorching hot, empty pot.

Hawke's companions couldn't understand what was going on. Why was the Hero of Ferelden talking shop with the Antivan slaver?

Castillon thought he smelled an opportunity to get out of her with his life. "P-please, serrah. I...am a mere businessman. Surely we can conduct ourselves like civility, and talk business?"

Aedan's eye twitched angrily at what the miserable Antivan's words. "You know, you sound just like another sniveling puke I once met met. A mutual acquaintance that I'm sure you know. A Tevinter named Caladrius, last seen during the Blight in the Denerim Alienage. Sound familiar?"

Castillon's eyes went wide with terror, realizing who was he was talking to. Every slaver's worst nightmare. "N-no, please! Lord Cousland, I...!"

"Shut up!" Aedan shouted viciously, silencing the now terrified slaver. "You stole my countrymen from their homes to sell them to the Imperium like they were cattle. Now, you dared to trespass against my people for a second time. To you, robbing people of their lives is just a part of your job. And something tell s me that you like your job, and that disturbs me. And I don't like being disturbed."

"Please, Lord Coursland, I beg your...gakh!" Castillon gasped in pain and fear, the taste of metal and his own blood filling his mouth.

Aedan jammed his hunting knife into Castillon's already busted mouth. Not far enough to kill him, but more than enough to make him stop talking. "I told you to shut up. You're going to want to move your mouth as little as possible right now, otherwise you're going to hurt yourself even more."

Castillon's face burned, he groaned and gurgled in horrible agony, but he dared not scream lest he add to the damage. Aedan, ever so slowly, sliced through the sides of Castillon's face, cutting his cheeks open. Blood spurted from Castillon's mouth and the new gashes on the side of his face. He cried but could not scream. He no longer even dared to beg for his life.

Aedan wiped the Antivan blood off his knife and sheathed it back in his belt. He sighed in satisfaction of the bloody mess he made out of the slaver's face. "If you have a prayer, Castillon, now's the time to say it." Castillon only whimpered in agony, refusing to open his mouth. "Suit yourself."

Aedan placed his hands on Castillon's upper and lower jaw, and in one swift movement, snapped Castillon's jawbone downward, breaking it like it was a twig and ripping his face wade open.

Castillon screamed an ungodly wail of horrible suffering, his tongue wagging out of his mouth like a dogs, jaw hanging from his head by the skin of his neck, and his face ripped nearly in half. He wasn't dead, not nearly, though he was probably wishing he was. Everyone turned their eyes away from the grotesque in horror and disgust at the display of cruelty they were witnessing. Even Aedan's squires had a hard time watching. They had all heard the stories of Aedan's cruelty, but never imagined they were that true. Sebastian whispered a prayer under his breath, while Isabella rushed outside to go puke. Hawke, however, did not look away. He condemned Castillon to suffer the death he deserved, and was obligated to watch it happen, no matter how much it turned his stomach.

Aedan breathed in deep and sighed in contentment. As if the sound of Castillon screaming was pleasant music, and the smell of his blood was an intoxicating aroma. As a Reaver, Aedan fed off the pain and suffering he inflicted. Now it was time to finish the job.

Aedan grabbed the funnel Amethyne so graciously brought him and shoved it down Castillon's grossly widened mouth and halfway down his throat. The savage Reaver looked down at the pot of gold he left over the fire, and saw that it was now a lovely pot of molten hot liquid metal. Just perfect. Aedan grabbed the burning pot and held it over Castillon's head, as he screamed in terror.

"Here's your hundred sovereign's slaver. Now choke on it!" Aedan cursed and poured the pot's molten hot contents down Castillon's throat. Castillon's shrieking last breath died in his throat as the gold he loved so much rushed down his gullet, burning his innards like paper. The liquid hot gold went straight through his body, and burned down through the chair, leaving a molten hot puddle as Castillon had literally shit gold. Castillon's body fell to the floor with a loud thud, and his golden last meal poured out of his body.

"Oh, Andraste's flaming ass, I'll never be able to look at gold the same way ever again." Varric groaned, trying to keep his lunch down.

Aedan walked up to the Champion with a look of utter gratitude on his face. "Thank you, Sergeant. I needed that. It was very...cathartic." Aedan and his comrades made their way out of the hidden cavern, their job here done. "Please see me before I leave, Sergeant. I would like to have a word with you."

**Later that week...**

By the end of the week, everything had been resolved. Many of the Fereldans who attended Aedan's rally survived the initial attack, those who were injured were now healing. Those that died would still be taken back across the Amaranthine Ocean, they at least deserved to be laid to rest in their native soil. Meredith and her Templars did well to stay as far away from the Hero and his associates for the duration of their mission, mostly at the Grand-Cleric's behest. Everything was now proceeding as it was supposed to.

As Hawke made his way to the docks where his displaced countrymen were now boarding their ships to return home, he was met with renewed admiration and respect. Everyone had heard how he tracked down the slavers that were kidnapping their people and destroyed the terrorists who were out to wipe out his people with a strange plague that made them into walking bombs. Then how he and the Hero marched on the Gallows to tell the Templars that they would allow no harm to their people. It would seem Varric wasted no time embellishing this latest adventure of theirs.

"Sergeant, over here!" Aedan called to the Champion from his flagship. Hawke made his way over to the Hero, and saluted him with respect, as befits a warrior of his status. "I'm glad you came, Sergeant. I wanted to give you a couple things before I departed. For everything that you did, I would be remised if I didn't reward your efforts."

"I appreciate the sentiment, General, but it's unnecessary." Hawke insisted.

"Yes, it is. And I won't hear otherwise, Sergeant." Aedan balked. "If weren't for you, I would have played Charlotte's game, and she would have won. I am not the kind of man who leaves debts unpaid." Aedan reached into his satchel and pulled out a strange amulet dangling from a leather cord. The face of the amulet was in the shape of a beautiful skyclad woman surrounded with birds around her. The amulet seemed like it was carved from ancient bone and set in dark smooth stone. There was an ancient aura of magic that almost seemed to hum with power.

"What is this?" Hawke asked, holding the amulet in his hands, feeling it hum strongly. "It's magic, but not like anything I've see made by Circle Mages."

"You have a keen eye, Sergeant. That's because it was made by an apostate, if we're to use the Chantry's terms. An Avvar shaman to be exact, with who I am very close. Her name is Siobahn." Aedan explained. "She gave this to me when she and her people returned to the mountains after the Blight. It's called the Heart of the Lady, the Avvar's goddess of death. If you should ever find yourself in battle and are on the verge of dying from your wounds, this amulet will revive you, restore your life, but only once. There is no other amulet like this in all of Thedas."

Hawke couldn't believe the magnitude of this gift the Hero was just giving him. Not only did it posses a power that many warriors and monarch would kill for, but it also held great sentimental value to the Hero. Such a gift was not easily earned, nor was it to be rejected. This was a great honor Hawke could only accept with grace. "Thank you, General. I am honored by this act, though I pray I shall never need it."

"You're a magnificent warrior, Sergeant, though it never hurts to have a backup plan." Aedan affirmed. "And for my last gift: a piece of advice, or a warning depending on how you wish to take it."

Hawke was deeply interested in what Aedan had to say. Though, there was something foreboding about his words. "What do you have to tell me?"

"The greatest threat to this city, it's not Meredith, nor is it the crazy mages that seem to pop up in this city." Aedan spoke darkly, with deep insight. "No. The greatest threat to your city is Grand-Cleric Elthina."

Aedan's advice caught Hawke off guard. There was no way that could be true. "The Grand-Cleric? You can't be serious!"

"I'm dead serious, Sergeant." Aedan confirmed grimly. "That old biddy refused to bring Meredith and her Templars to meet with me, even when I threatened to destroy the Gallows to find Petra. I gave her ample opportunity to stop me, but she didn't take it. Even as we speak, she refuses to take any action, pick a side in this conflict between mages and Templars that is threatening to tear your city apart. I've seen firsthand what happens when well-meaning, weak-willed, indecisive leaders can do, and it's always worse than the true enemy. If they aren't willing to stop the enemy, they are enabling the enemy."

Aedan words echoed in Hawke's mind. True, Elthina had yet to choose who to stand with, the mages or the Templars, and continue to urge patience when others demanded action. But could her indecisiveness and piety really be such a threat to this city? Hawke never saw what the Blight and the Civil War did to Ferelden, but Aedan did. There may have been truth to his words. Garret would need to deeply consider what he said.

"Thank for everything you have done, Sergeant. And good luck in all the battles ahead." Aedan bid. He boarded his ship, weighed anchor, and sailed back down south with the rest of his countrymen back home.

Hawke stood on the docks and watched as the ships sailed away. He wondered if it would not have been better if he had sailed back to Ferelden with them. After all, he had been promised a lordship and rank by the Hero of Ferelden, and there was no doubt that every lord and his neighbor would probably want Hawke at court. But Hawke ultimately pushed the thought out of his mind. Ferelden would always be his homeland, and he would always love it, but Kirkwall was home now. It was were his mother was from, where his parents found love with each other, where Hawke found not one but two loves of his life. Everything he had accomplished was because he was in Kirkwall. And he would never abandon this city, his city, so long as it was in danger. He was the Champion of Kirkwall, and would continue on as it protector.

**~XoXoXo~**

"And that's it. There isn't anymore. That's the end of my untold chapters." Varric finally concluded.

Josephine, Leliana and even Cassandra gave Varric a round of applause for telling them this story.

"Oh, that was magnificent, Master Varric." Josephine complimented sincerely.

"I wish you had told this story earlier." Cassandra admitted.

"Well, Seeker, you weren't exactly being pleasant company at the time. And besides, a story like this deserves a bigger audience." Varric responded.

"But how come you never mentioned anything from this story Cullen?" Leliana asked curiously.

"Well, considering everything that happened after that, the destruction of Kirkwall's Chantry, the Mage-Templar War, the destruction of the Conclave, it seemed rather irrelevant to the events that were actually going on." Cullen answered.

"There's just one thing I'm curious about, Varric." Dorian stated. "How come no one ever heard this tale before? I mean, we've all heard of the Champion's other exploits, but nothing of this. Why is that?"

"Considering that ninety percent of what comes out of Varric's mouth is bullshit, I doubt anyone outside Kirkwall would have believed it, anyway." Cassandra asserted.

"Actually what you should consider is that everyone in the Free Marches was still on edge about the whole mage situation." Varric clarified. "The only ones affected by these events were the Fereldan refugees, and no one gave a crap about them. If it had nothing to do with the mages, it didn't exist."

"Well, I for one rather enjoyed your story, Varric." Rajmael said graciously. "Hearing the tales of the Champions exploits is always a fun pastime, and the fact that the Hero of Ferelden was in it really made it better. Now, I think I'll retire for the night. We still have our duties to perform in the morning."

"Yes, we must still prepare for Leliana's coronation, and choose the right colored gown for the reception." Josephine pointed out.

"Oh, Josie, please! Just leave it be for a day." Leliana pleaded.

"Yeah, you're right, Inquisitor." Varric agreed. "Who knows? Might get some more material for your story tomorrow. That's the best part if being a storyteller: always finding new material for your next story."

**Author's Note:**

**And here you guys go, the last chapter of this Original Arc of mine.**

**Sorry it took me so long to get this posted. Had a lot to write, and this being the holiday season, I was pretty effing busy this month.**

**I hope you enjoyed this arc and that it makes up for the fact I never wrote a DA2 fanfic.**

**Stick around and keep an eye out. Up next is the Trespasser Arc, and since this is me, there's going to be more than a few doozies involved.**

**And in case it needs to be said: I do not own anything. This story is completely fictional.**

**Please review.**


	43. Enter the Exalted Council

**Enter the Exalted Council**

Never before in this history of Thedas had there been an age as turbulent, uncertain and chaotic as this one. From the first day, the very moment, in which this era began, it was steeped in brutal conflict. It earned its names when a High Dragon, once thought to be long extinct, began to rampage across the Frostback Mountains, destroying Orlesian territories. Divine Faustine II gave the current century this name knowing that it would be an age of hardship and upheaval. No one could have predicted how right she would be. For in almost all the years that have passed in the Dragon Age, there has never been true peace

_**9:02 Dragon:**_ With the help of his friend, Loghain Mac Tir, Maric Therin, the rightful King of Ferelden, drives out the Orlesian forces back through the Frostback Mountains at the Battle of River Dane. Maric kills the Orlesian puppet king, Meghren, in a duel at Fort Drakon. A year later, Maric is officially crowned King of Ferelden and takes his rightful place on his ancestor's throne.

_**9:21 Dragon:**_ The ruthless and tyrannical Viscount of Kirkwall, Perrin Threnhold, attempts to cast the powerful and influential Templars out of his city. The attempt fails and Viscount Perrin is executed by the very Order he sought to oust. Marlow Dumar is made Viscount, and Meredith Strannard is appointed Knight-Commander of the Templar Order in Kirkwall by Grand Cleric Elthina.

_**9:22 Dragon:**_ A cult of blood mages, conspiring with Grand-Cleric Callista and Knight-Commander Martel, plot a coup to take over the Chantry and assassinate Divine Beatrix III during the Ten Year Gathering, with dragons. The plot fails thanks to the efforts of Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast and Enchanter Regalyan D'Marcall. Most of the blood mages, along with Callista and Martel, are killed in the battle.

_**9:29 Dragon:**_ After five centuries of inactivity, and being all but forgotten by the world, the Darkspawn discover the Old God Urthemiel. A new Blight is declared by the ancient Order of Grey Wardens. Warden-Commander Duncan, leader of the Order of the Grey in Ferelden, sets off to find new recruits to combat the Blight.

_**9:30 Dragon:**_ The Blight begins in Southern Ferelden. The Darkspawn lie poised to invade all Ferelden from the Korcari Wilds. King Cailan leads a joint force of the Ferelden Royal Army and the Wardens of Orlais in an effort to stop the Blight before it begins at the ruins of Ostagar. The Battle of Ostagar, is a disastrous failure. Loghain Mac Tir betrays his king, leaving him to die. Most of the Fereldan army and the Grey Wardens are slaughtered, along with King Cailan and Duncan. Loghain attempts to forcefully gather the Fereldan lords under his banner, but many refuse, seeing him as an opportunist and traitor. The kingdom is thrown into civil war as the Blight ravages the land.

_**9:31 Dragon:**_ Many desperate Fereldan refugees flee their homeland to the Free Marches to escape the Blight. Many flee to Kirkwall, and are met with hostility and prejudice from the xenophobic natives of the city. That same year, an entire fleet of qunari warriors, led by the Arishok, the commander of the entire qunari military, are washed up on the Wounded Coast and are left stranded in Kirkwall, with no means of returning home.

_**9:34 Dragon:**_ After too many provocations and abuses from the citizens of Kirkwall, secretly orchestrated by Chantry zealots, the Arishok decides to overthrow Kirkwall's leadership and impose the Qun on the city. He leads a well planned and coordinated assault on the city that kills many and burns much of the city. Viscount Dumar is executed in his own keep at the Arishok's hands.

_**9:35 Dragon:**_ Meredith Strannard officially assumes stewardship of Kirkwall, imposing her strict rule on the citizens, and even stricter sanctions on the Circle's mages. This causes the already high tensions between mages and Templars to rise even greater. Meredith starts using the Rite of Tranquility more liberally, in an attempt to stop magical corruption, but many see it as oppression and abuse. The mages' already miserable lives become even more unbearable, and many covertly try to undermine Meredith's authority, some resorting to blood magic and give credence to Meredith's accusations. Mages and Templars seem ready to tear each other's throats out, while the citizens of the city are caught in the middle. The people look to Grand Cleric Elthina to stop the conflict, but she urges patience and maintains neutrality. Meanwhile, the conflict continues.

_**9:37 Dragon:**_ The rogue Warden and apostate known as Anders finally has enough of seeing his fellow mages being tormented and imprisoned at Meredith's hands while the Grand Cleric does nothing. He decides to finally remove any chance for compromise and assert action. Anders destroys the Kirkwall Chantry in a massive explosion, killing hundred, including Grand Cleric Elthina. Meredith unjustly calls for the Rite of Annulment to wipe out the Circle, even though the mages were not responsible, and the Templars begin slaughtering all mages in the city. Chaos erupts as demons and abominations run rampant in the city, destroying much of it. The mages and Templars face off in a final confrontation at the Gallows. First Enchanter Orsino suffers a mental breakdown, resorting to blood magic and turns himself into an aberrational Flesh Golem. Meredith is driven insane by the strange red lyrium sword she constructed, and turns on her own Templars. This event left much of the city in ruins and many people lost their lives.

_**9:38-39 Dragon:**_ The Chantry convenes over the events at Kirkwall. Many are concerned that Circles all over Thedas may begin to rebel, while some think that the Templar Order should be restricted. To prevent the chances of more mages rebelling, the Chantry officially dissolves the College of Enchanters, forbidding to allow any more meetings. Unrest grows in Orlais as Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons begins to start sewing dissidence against Empress Celene in an attempt to gain legitimacy for the throne.

_**9:40 Dragon:**_ A cure for mage Tranquility is discovered. The Circle of Dairsmuid is unlawfully annulled by the Seekers. The College of Magi convenes at the White Spire in Val Royeuax and votes to break away from the Chantry, refusing to bow to its stringent conditions and harsh authority over them. Lord-Seeker Lambert officially annuls the Nevarran Accord, pulling both the Templars and the Seekers away from the Chantry's stewardship to hunt down the mages.

Sick of being mistreated in their own homeland, the impoverished elves of Halamshiral declare Mien'harel, rebellion against their oppressors. Empress Celene marches to the former elven capital and burns the city to quash the rebellion. Duke Gaspard takes advantage of the situation and attacks Celene with his army, out flanking her and nearly killing the empress. A three-sided civil war erupts within Orlais; Gaspard and Celene who vie for the Gilded Throne, and Briala, who leads her fellow city elves against them both. The War of Lions engulfs the largest empire in Southern Ferelden.

_**9:41 Dragon:**_ In a desperate attempt to stop the continuing violence that threatens to bring ruin to the world, Divine Justinia V calls for a Conclave at the Temple of Sacred Ashes for the mages and Templars to meet, and reach a peaceful solution. Many thousands of people from all over Thedas attend this historic gathering. Everyone, including the Divine, is killed in a massive explosion that destroys the entire temple. A tear in the Veil known as the Breach rips the sky open and demons begin pouring into the world. A being known as the Elder One, claiming to be one of the seven Magister who broke into the Golden City, declares war on all of Thedas, and seeks to forcibly enter the Fade and make himself a god over all creation. He would lead an army of Tevinter Mages, fallen Grey Wardens, Red Templars and demons against every living soul in the world.

However, despite all the conflicts and bloodshed this Age has seen, there has never been an age with as many great heroes in the annals of its history. First there was King Maric the Savior, a prince born in the wild, his life on the run, but would free his country from a century of foreign occupation. Some would call him the greatest king since Calenhad the Silver Knight.

King Alistair Theirin, the forgotten son of Maric. Born to a peasant, raised by the Chantry, and recruited into the Wardens, he would rise above his bastard status to reclaim his father's throne ending civil war and uniting his country against the Blight. In the years since his ascension, Alistair had proven to those who might doubt him that he is his father's son.

Aedan Cousland, the Hero of Ferelden. With his legendary wrath, he avenged his betrayed family, gathered an army of mages, elves and dwarves to combat the Blight. He would go down in history as one of the greatest warriors to be born in Ferelden, and the only Wardens to ever exist that slew an Old God in single combat and lived. He created the Knights of the Silver Order, an order of warriors whose purpose would be to protect Ferelden's borders and protect her people. His name would forever become synonymous with patriotism.

Garret Hawke. Born a peasant, raised a farmer turned soldier. He would rise from a fleeing refugee to Champion of Kirkwall. Detective, defender and lover. Deep Roads explorer and soldier of fortune who left his mark on the world with whatever he pursued. Hawke delved in unknown depths of the Deep Roads, defeated the Arishok in single combat, and stood for the downtrodden mages, defying the Templars' cruelty. His many exploits became the stuff of legends and many throughout the world would look to him as inspiration and hero for all that he accomplished.

Cassandra Pentaghast, princess of Nevarra and daughter of House Pentaghast. She rose through the ranks of the Order of Seekers faster than most could dream, pushed beyond her limits by her loyalty and piety alone. She would become the most famous of her secretive Order when she saved Divine Beatrix III from a coup attempt within the Grand Cathedral and a blood mage's plot. For her heroism, she was declared the Hero of Orlais and the Right Hand of the Divine.

Now the world is staged for a new hero, one whose accomplishments united nations and saved the world from total annihilation and damnation. Rajmael of Clan Lavellan, a Dalish mage and self-proclaimed priest of the elven gods. He would rise from obscurity to become one of the greatest heroes in the history of Thedas. Found in the ruins of the Conclave, he bore a mark of mysterious origins that could seal the tears in the Veil. Though reluctant at first, and adamantly denying any loyalty to Andraste or the Maker, and denounced by the Chantry, the people see Rajmael as a hero, and he is made the Lord Inquisitor of the New Inquisition.

Through his efforts and leadership, the Mage-Templar War was brought to an end, sealed the Breach, seetled the War of Lions with Empress Celene remaining on the throne, and halted an army of demons. Inquisitor Rajmael would lead the New Inquisition in the War Against The Elder One with an army from almost every culture and walk of life in Thedas, the only one of its kind in history outside of a Blight. After being thwarted by the Inquisitor at every turn, the Elder One forces his nemesis into a final confrontation at the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, and tried to force the Breach open once again to swallow the world. Inquisitor Rajmael slew the Elder One and sealed the Breach once again.

**Year 9:44 of The Dragon Age:**

Thanks to the Inquisition and the leadership and wisdom of Inquisitor Lavellan, the world has changed for the better. The war-weary nations of Southern Thedas have enjoyed a tranquility few have ever known as the world heals from the Elder One's machinations. There is a peace that has never existed before. Mages are no longer feared as potential abominations, elves are seen with respect and even admiration, and Orlais and Ferelden are even beginning to work together.

However, as the Chantry says, all things in this world are finite, and the Inquisition now faces what very well might be its end. The Inquisition is now the most powerful institution in the South, some might argue the most powerful in all Thedas. And as with anything that is great and powerful, there are those who fear it, and those who wish to exploit it. Ferelden sees the power and influence of the Inquisition as something that could easily abuse its status and authority. Many in Orlais see the power of the Inquisition as an opportunity to regain the prestige and influence it once wielded, and perhaps return back to their days of expansion.

After two years of keeping the critics at bay, Divine Victoria I convenes the first ever Exalted Council. The Council will convene at the Winter Palace where the representatives will voice their concerns and reasons for the Inquisition continuation or dissolution, with the Chantry acting as mediator. The representatives of Ferelden and Orlais will present their cases before the Divine, and Inquisitor Rajmael must stand before this council and convince them of the necessity of the Inquisition's continued existence and independence, or yield to the demands for their disbandment or servitude.

**The Winter Palace, Halamshiral, Orlais...**

The sun was still rising, but the day was bright. The gilded walls and pillars of the Winter Palace shined brightly in the daylight, and the banners of the many lords who were attending this gathering were hung high and fluttered in the warm spring wind. Many people from many kingdoms were gathered in the Palace. Not just from Orlais and Ferelden, but people from Antiva, Nevarra, the Free Marches, and even the Tevinter Imperium had come to attend this historic gathering.

The delegates from the Chantry, Orlais and Ferelden had already arrived the day before. Now everyone was waiting on the true subject of the council: Inquisitor Rajmael. However, everyone was stuck waiting for the Inquisition's arrival. It would seem the Inquisition's entourage took a detour south to the Arbor Wilds, for some personal matter of the Inquisitor's. That just gave the people who had already arrived more time to debate and gossip amongst themselves. Right now, the hot topic besides the Inquisitor was the newly appointed Divine.

Many of the attendees did their best to get as close to the new Divine as they possibly could, but her bodyguards permitted only a seldom few to actually approach her. Some wanted to see her to gain the blessings of the Most Holy, while others wanted to see whether the rumor and scandal that surrounded this young woman who rose to the most exalted rank in all of Thedas was true or not.

Divine Victoria was a storied and controversial figure. If rumor was to be believed, back when her name was Leliana, she was supposedly a bard and assassin in her youth before becoming a lay sister of the Chantry. Then she became a companion of the legendary Aedan Cousland and assisted him in his efforts against the Fifth Blight, then returned to the Chantry. While she was still officially a lay sister, she became a close servant and confidant of Divine Justinia V, then official Spymaster of the Inquisition. Leliana's accomplishments, as well as her well known piety and character, was enough to convince enough of the remaining Grand Clerics of her worthiness, and thus they elected to raise to the Sunburst Throne. A decision that brought joy to many, and concern to others.

Not even settled into her new miter, and already Divine Victoria's new policies and movements were causing people headaches. Her new policies concerning the mages were merely a start, one that caught most people off guard. But even more scandalous were the reformations Divine Victoria wanted to bring to the official Chant of Light, wishing to add to it, even verses that had long been removed from the official canon. Some considered it revolutionary, while others considered it blasphemy. Some were worried that she would not be able to remain neutral and give fair judgment over these proceedings, given her close association with the Inquisition.

All attention that was so ardently pressed on the Divine was suddenly pulled away when the court criers' fanfare sounded the approach of the Inquisition's entourage. Everyone hurried to the palace entrance to see the Inquisition's approach. Today might very well be the last day anyone will ever seen the Inquisition's march again.

Inquisition soldiers marched in formation and carrying their banner through the gates of the Winter Palace with disciplined unity, their footsteps and movements were like as one. The soldier parted the way into tightly formed ranks around the entry; the honor-guards held their axes at the ready in front, the bannermen held the Inquisition's flag proudly, and every soldier saluted in flawless, disciplined unison as the Inquisitor and his advisors rode into the Palace entryway.

Everyone began whispering excitedly amongst themselves at the sight before them. Even when the Empress arrived at this summit, they were not as excited. The sight of the these three great individuals was a pleasure very few could claim to have seen.

Commander Cullen, the general of the Inquisition's military who trained a ragtag group of volunteers, conscripts, peasants and mercenaries into a formidable force that would give any standing army reason for pause. Given the militaristic successes of the Inquistion, every knight in court knew to respect this former Templar. Every Orlesian lass and lady giggled beneath their masks and fans at the sight of this handsome blonde Fereldan soldier as he rode his horse pass them, and Cullen did his best not to notice.

Every noble who attended this gathering watched Ambassador Josephine with admiration as well as caution. Behind Josephine's noble grace and Antivan beauty was a sharp and cunning political mind that could easily be a make or break any noble. It would take even the most seasoned player of the Great Game a lifetime to reach the heights of political reverence, yet Josephine brought the entire Inquisition to that point by her own will and cunning alone, turning the Inquisition into a political power house.

However, every pair of eyes, from lord to servant, was looking upon perhaps the most important individual of this entire summit: Lord Inquisitor Rajmael. The elven servants in the palace dared to neglect their duties to look upon this elf who had risen so high in the world of the shemlen. Rajmael rode his silver white halla, Neirin, straight and proud, as an equal, and even a superior, to all the lords present. Without him, there never would have been an Inquisition, and today he might decide whether or not the Inquisition would continue to be.

"Ugh. Another parade, another bloody negotiation." Cullen groaned under his breath. He despised these formal ceremonies so much.

"Smiles, everyone. We must be very careful how we present ourselves." Josephine insisted, smiling brightly for everyone to see.

"Why did Divine Victoria call this Exalted Council in the first place? She's kept Orlais from bothering us for two years." Cullen said inquisitively.

"At increasing political cost, yes. She has done all she can, but the Exalted Council has become a necessity." Josephine answered seriously. She looked up to the balcony and noticed the Orlesian delegates, who were watching them like vultures behind their masks. "Orlais would control us, and based on their many marriage proposals, they have very specific plans for you."

Cullen lowered his head, dreading what they wanted from him. He had hoped that he never had to deal with such political maneuvering after his first visit to the Winter Palace. Josephine couldn't help but smile amusedly at his awkwardness.

"Our greatest concern is Ferelden. They would see us disbanded entirely." Josephine looked up at the balcony on the opposite side of the entry, waving politely to the Ferelden representative. The representative was neither receptive nor amused by her gesture.

Hearing his advisors' concern, Rajmael slowed Neirin's stride to move alongside them so they might speak.

"Josephine, who will be sitting on the council, and what should I know about them?" Rajmael asked, pointing to the banners.

Josephine looked at the banners and recognized the most important ones instantly. "Two wyverns either side a sword on a split field of yellow and blue, reverse...that is the crest of House De Montfort, Duke Cyril's family."

"I know we had dealings with him in the past, but of the man, I know very little." Rajmael admitted.

"He is a distant cousin of the Empress, and like his late father, Duke Prosper, Cyril is a formidable player of the Game, trained in the Chevalier arts by his father Prosper de Monfort." Josephine explained. "He has a leading seat on the Council of Heralds, so he wields great influence in the Orlesian Court."

"And the one from Ferelden?" Rajmael asked, pointing to the other banner.

"A lone tower on a red hill, white field. The Guerrin Family's heraldry." Josephine noted. "That means Arl Teagan is here."

"Arl Teagan? The lord of Redcliffe?" Rajmael recalled, remembering back when the mages had taken refuge there. "We took back his castle from Magister Alexius and saved the village. Would he not show us some clemency in these proceedings?"

"All the clemency he had for us has been spent in the two years he waited for this council." Josephine admonished softly. "He is one Ferelden's most respected politicians, and is famous for never backing down, no matter the opponent. We must tread carefully with him if we want the Inquisition to continue."

There were two more banners standing alongside Redcliffe's. Both of them were unknown to Rajmael, though he knew little of heraldry in the first place. "What about those other two? The one's next to Arl Teagan's?"

Josephine looked at them curiously. They were not that familiar to her as well. "A silver sword upright before a blue mountain and above rushing water? Oh my, that's the Order of Silver Knights, the order founded by the Hero of Ferelden to protect the kingdom's borders."

"The mountains represent the Frostbacks and the water represents the Amaranthine Ocean and Waking Sea. The areas that surround Ferelden's borders, that they've sworn to protect.." Cullen explained, a hint of pride in his voice.. "Many members of the Silver Knights attended the Conclave as bodyguards and were killed when the Breach opened. They must have rebuilt their numbers over the last two years."

"Sure looks like it to me." Rajmael pointed over to the rather fearsome looking contingency of soldiers posted with the Fereldan delegates. Each one of them was clad in high quality silverite armor, and looked like they were ready for a fight at the drop of a hat.

"Oh, my. They look like they're here for a fight." Josephine observed.

"That's usually how Fereldan-style politics goes, Ambassador." Cullen stated. "And these are not your usual run-of-the-mill soldiers, either. Word is that these men and women have all been trained by Aedan Cousland himself."

"Why would they be attending this summit?" Rajmael asked curiously.

"No doubt to prove to these Orlesians and their Chevaliers that Ferelden is still a country to be reckoned with." Cullen shrugged. "My countrymen never turn down a chance to bare their teeth when Orlais challenges them. Look over there."

Cullen pointed over to a man in his early forties. He was a plain-looking man with dirty blonde hair. Like the rest of the Silver Order, he wore silverite splintmail armor and there was a symbol on his breast that signified that he was highly ranked. Instead of carrying a sword like most knights, this man had a silverite flanged mace strapped to his hip. Oddly enough, the man didn't carry himself like a soldier, yet despite this, the rest of the Silver Knights showed him the utmost respect.

"That's Ser Alec." Cullen informed, speaking with deepest respect.

"_The_ Ser Alec the Valiant?" Josephine asked, awed by the man's presence.

"Who?" Rajmael asked curiously. As an elf, even after these last few years, Rajmael still wasn't familiar with human heroes.

"He used to be a simple farmer, but the darkspawn slaughtered his livestock and destroyed his crops." Cullen explained. "Driven by desperation to save his family from starvation, Alec attempted to steal some grain from the crown and was caught. Normally, theft from the crown is punishable by death. Instead, he was conscripted into the army by Aedan Cousland himself. Alec showed great prowess and leadership skills during the Amaranthine Crisis, and all the common folk made him their hero. The Hero of Ferelden was so impressed by his skills, that he was the first man to be recruited into the newly founded Silver Order. The way I hear it, Ser Alec is now the Lord Commander of the Silver Order."

"Wow. Not bad for a farmer." Rajmael said rather impressed. "The man's a hero, but why didn't I hear about him back when the Inquisition was started?"

"From what I understand, most of the Silver Order was killed in the Conclave, those that were left, including Ser Alec, were trying to recuperate from their losses so that their Order wouldn't die out in a single generation." Josephine answered. "That's why they weren't able to protect much of Ferelden when the Breach was opened."

"And now they're here demanding our disbandment. Nothing like having an Order of heroes against us to make matters worse." Rajmael sighed.

"Don't discount yourself, Inquisitor. There are many throughout the world who consider you and this entire Inquisition to be heroes." Josephine assured.

"Still, their presence will make things difficult." Cullen stated dourly. "With the Silver Order reestablished, many Fereldan lords will believe they no longer need us."

"That is why we're here to argue our case at the Exalted Council, Commander." Josephine reminded. "We should be working alongside people like the Silver Order, not butting heads with one another. The Exalted Council must be made to see why we're still needed."

"I hope you have some impressive speeches lined up, Ambassador. Because I think this crowd is going to need some convincing. Wish Varric was here, he could probably bullshit this whole Council into believing us." Rajmael spoke. "Let's just say, for argument's sake, that this doesn't go in our favor, and the Inquisition does disband. Do the two of you have any fallback plans?"

"I wouldn't call it a fallback plan, I'll just take up role as head of House Montilyet sooner than I was expecting. And the Court of Antiva has offered me several prestigious offices, should I wish to return to home." Josephine answered casually. "It wouldn't be too bad, I suppose. Maker knows I'll probably need to keep an eye on Yvette."

"Well, you certainly have more going on for you than I do." Cullen stated gruffly. "I was a Templar for most of my life, never really had any other plans for the future, let alone expected a career change to military commander. I suppose I'll rejoin the Order and try to help them serve without being leashed to the addiction of lyrium. There are many who deserve that chance."

"That is an admirable goal, Commander. I think there would be many who would wish to see your Order reformed." Josephine complimented. "And what about you, Inquisitor? Do you have any other plans? Take up leadership of your clan? Become a full time parent for Eva? Maybe find more time to spend with a certain Seeker?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Josephine. We still just might get through today. But I do have some plans if this doesn't go our way." Rajmael answered.

The three Inquisition leaders continued talking as they made their way into the Winter Palace. They were so focused on their worries for the Exalted Council, that they didn't notice the other banner with the Fereldan delegation. A banner depicting twin axes crossed behind a winged wreathe on a blue field.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael stood alone in the Exalted Council's meeting chamber. It was quiet now, but soon it would be filled with heated arguments and vicious debates over the Inquisition's continued existence. Ironically, this was the only place in the Palace where Rajmael could find some peace and quiet. This was going to be another life changing decision, and he wanted a moment of solitude before the council convened.

This was going to be yet another historic event, one that could have serious repercussions on the world at large. And once again, he found himself to be the epicenter of this change. Yet, right now, all Rajmael could think about was how much he wanted to be anywhere else, and about how everything led to this moment after Corypheus' death.

At first, everything was great. Even when the Blight was ended, there hadn't been such celebration. Then everyone started to leave, and when most of them were gone, things seemed to fall apart with them.

There had still been no word on Solas, even as Leliana's best agents used every resource and trick they had to try and track him down. It wasn't that Solas was hard to track, but very good at evading them. The elven apostate was more clever and cunning than most would think. There were so many unanswered questions Rajmael wanted to ask, but at this point it seemed unlikely that he would be able to get the chance.

First to depart the Inquisition was Sera and Vivienne, which was no huge loss to Rajmael, as far as he was personally concerned. With the world saved, Sera decided to go back to what she was good at and resumed the life of a thief with the Red Jennies. As it was, Rajmael had no idea where Sera was, and he really did not care. Putting up with her attitude was a chore Rajmael hated, and it made it difficult for him to even bother to care if she was even alive.

Vivienne went back to resume her post at the Orlesian Court, and quickly became an outspoken critic of Leliana new policies concerning mages and a rival of Enchanter Fiona's College of Magi. She even kept a firm grasp over the loyalists who followed her, granting them some political sway. There were still many in the Orlesian Court who owed her favors, and those who were loyal to her deceased lover Bastien, and that allowed Vivienne to keep hold of her footstone in the political world.

Once peace keeping operations were established, Iron Bull decided to take his leave. He was a free man now, no longer bound to the Qun, and decided he liked not living under the employ of a revered institution. Iron Bull decided he loved the life of a mercenary, so he and his Chargers went back to what they did best: kicking ass and getting drunk. Rajmael was still hearing stories about their exploits. The only thing that made Bull slightly apprehensive to depart, was leaving Dorian. The two of them had gotten close over the course of their battle against Corypheus, and even closer when Corpheus was killed. But the two of them new that their lifestyles and obligations would eventually cause them to leave.

Dorian decided to go back to the Imperium and settle the matters he left behind. After what he had seen Rajmael accomplish, he was determined to make some real changes in the Imperium. Too many of his countrymen were stuck in the past, it was time for them to change along with the rest of the world. Sadly, he couldn't just go back to Tevinter with Iron Bull. The son of a Magister returning from the South with a Qunari lover in tow would just invite more trouble than he could handle, and kill any movement he started before it began. So, he had to leave Bull behind.

With his crimes pardoned, and no longer needing to live a lie, Blackwall decided it was time for him to go back into the world and make up for the terrible things he did. He chose to start by seeking out those who were left of his company, and try to make up for what he did to them. He's started going by his real name of Thom Ranier now, trying to start anew with the name he had forsaken. Rajmael wished him the best, both in helping his men, and regaining the honor of his name.

Rajmael was unsurprised when Varric told him that he was going back to Kirkwall. With Corypheus dead, and Cassandra not holding him at swordpoint, the dwarven merchant decided it was finally time for him to go home. He wanted to make sure that Kirkwall was taken care of, and see how his friends were doing. After everything Varric had done and been through, it was a choice Rajmaell wholly supported.

Cole's departure was quiet and subtle, which was something Rajmael had gotten used to from him. Rajmael found a note of thanks on his desk one morning saying that Cole decided to leave and find out more about what it's like to be human. Rajmael was happy to know that Cole was now seeking to find out more about what life had to offer, and he had no doubt he would continue to be compassionate to everyone he met.

Cassandra was the last to leave, and her departure was the most painful. Her company was the only thing that made Rajmael's time as Inquisitor tolerable. However, like everyone else, she to had her obligations to fulfill. Cassandra had gotten word that there were other Seekers had survived, and she went to seek them out, perhaps even reestablish their Order. The two lovers kept in contact, writing letters as often as possible, wishing to be together as soon as possible. The chance to see her again at the summit was the only consolation that Rajmael had here.

Rajmael's heart cringed painfully at the thought of the events that happened the day before. He had gone to the Temple of Mythal where many of his kind were now studying the ancient secrets of their past. Many Dalish clans were now using the Temple as a safe haven to train their da'len gifted with magic, instead of only needing to keep a few with their clans. Rajmael's adopted daughter Eva was there. He hadn't seen her since Junnarel died, and he wanted to meet her, with the hope that seeing how she has grown up might lift his spirits. Instead, all he found was heartbreak and anger. Eva's angry words and pained tears still tore Rajmael up inside, and it is very possible that any future relationship he might have with Evanura and Nethras' child is now destroyed. And it was all his fault...

Rajmael grunted in pain as a searing pain like a knife stabbing him erupted in his hand, and the Anchor began flaring in his palm. After he sealed the Breach a second time, the Anchor was as stable as can be, but lately, this magical mark had been becoming more and more irritating. At first, it just crackled in his hand like a minor annoyance, but now it was acting out, and getting painful, like someone was stabbing him in the hand. This was why he still had agents pursuing Solas. Perhaps he could tell him what is wrong with the Anchor.

"Greetings, Lord Inquisitor." A familiar, gentle voice addressed sincerely. Mother Giselle walked into the meeting chamber and bowed respectfully to the elven hero. "It has been too long. I hope the years have been kind to you."

The Chantry Mother's unexpected arrival took Rajmael's mind off the pain in his hand. He wished he could answer her question honestly. "How have you been, Mother Giselle?"

"I spent last summer in Empreise du Lion, overseeing the relief efforts there. The townspeople send their regards. The Dales are finally recovering." Mother Giselle answered with a gladdened heart.

"I'm glad to see that you've continued to help, even after Corypheus' death."

"Winning was always ever only half the battle. The rest, and possibly the most difficult, comes after victory has been achieved, for that is when the most healing is needed." Mother Giselle smiled. "Divine Victoria has asked me to greet you on her behalf. She is currently addressing the Fereldan delegations concerns."

"How has the new Divine been doing these last few years?" Rajmael asked curiously.

"That is hardly for me to say, Inquisitor."

"I can recall more than a few occasions where that didn't stop you before, Mother Giselle." Rajmael reminded, remembering those moments like they were yesterday.

The elder Chantry Mother took Rajmael's point with a smile. "Victoria has proven herself most adept at maneuvering the politics of her station, as well as winning allies with bother her intelligence and her faith. After everything she did for you, Divine Justinia, and during the Blight, many consider her a hero. It's a blessing in these trying times. We are lucky to have her."

"I suppose I should meet with the Divine before the Exalted Council starts."

"I believe she would love that, Your Worship. The Divine sees the good that you can do, and have done. Duke Cyril will wish you greet you on Orlais' behalf. I believe he is currently speaking with the Tevinter Ambassador. Many of your friends have expressed desire to meet with you. I hope you can oblige them before the Exalted Council begins."

"The Imperium has sent an ambassador to these proceedings?" Rajmael asked curiously.

"Yes, Your Worship. Dorian Pavus has taken the chance to return from Tevinter." Mother Giselle answered. "It will be good to see him again. I owe my apology. I allowed my distrust of the Imperium to could my judgment when we first met. He took a great risk to come help us, and deserved better treatment."

"You're going to apologize? To Dorian?" Rajmael asked rather surprised. He remembered how she seemed to wish him gone, and Rajmael recalled that most members of the Chantry weren't usually so apologetic.

"I have little patience for those who cannot admit when they were wrong, Your Worship. Myself included." Mother Giselle said sternly, more towards herself than Rajmael. "I shall have to make my apology very public. I know how much Messere Pavus loves an audience."

"Well, I suppose I should meet with my friends before the Exalted Council begins. I doubt I'll get the chance once we begin." Rajmael determined, turning to leave.

"Your Worship, a final question before you depart, if I may." Mother Giselle beckoned. "This Exalted Council...Fereldan would see the Inquisition disbanded. They do not trust any power that could overtake them. And Orlais would see its power as a feather in a Chevalier's helmet. A weapon to use for their influence. What do _you_ wish to do with the Inquisition?"

"I don't know, Mother Giselle. That's what I came here today to determine." Rajmael answered in honest apprehension. "Both sides have their points and faults, and the Inquisition's neutrality is as much an advantage as it is a hindrance. I'll argue my case, but I will also listen to what they demand."

"A most wise attitude, Your Worship. There are too few who would weigh the outcome for everyone involved, and think only of their own agenda." Mother Giselle complimented sincerely. "I wish you luck in the negotiations. Maker watch over you, Inquisitor. I shall not take anymore of your time."

**Elsewhere in the Winter Palace...**

Marquis Briala walked through the Winter Palace with her head held high. Today, she strode through these grand halls not as a servant, but as an equal member of the aristocracy. A notion that still surprised people. It had been two years since she last set foot in the Winter Palace, the night where she and Celene and reunited and Briala was elevated to the position of Marquis of the Dales. It had also been two years since Briala ventured with the Inquisitor and came into confrontation with his adopted brother, who was leading a cult of elven fanatics who wanted to plunge Orlais into another civil war and kill an innumerable amount of humans with an ancient magic well.

Since then, Briala had dedicated herself to ensuring the fair treatment and equalization of all elves in Orlais. She had also granted lands to the Dalish clans so that they might have a place to rest, maybe even settle. She had also worked alongside Inquisitor Rajmael to ensure the sanctity of the Temple of Mythal that was discovered in the Arbor Wilds. Together, they passed a law that decreed the cultural and historical significance the Temple had to the elves, and that only elves were allowed to enter it, so that they might rebuild their heritage. Even Divine Victoria passed a decree that all elven mages who wished to take sanctuary and train in the Temple of Mythal were to be left alone, and not interfered with by the Templars or anyone else.

This caused some controversy with scholars and Chantry officials, who wished to deny the existence of the temple because it conflicted with centuries of official and biased records that denied elven history. There was not much these naysayers could do now. The elves had a place in this world, and the rest would have to adapt.

Sadly, Briala and Celene, like many nobles here, came here only to witness the Exalted Council, not participate in it. As the ruler of Orlais, Celene must listen to the will of her people, and there were many in the court who wished to see the Inquisition come under the leadership of Orlais, whereas Ferelden wanted to see them drop their banners and disperse. Either way, Celene was obligated to abide by the outcome of the Exalted Council.

Since neither she nor Celene would be taking part in these proceedings, and since neither of them have had a proper sabbatical in ages, the two of them decided to spend as much time together as possible. They wouldn't bother with meaningless talk and gossip of the nobles and dignitaries, especially since everyone was here to see the Inquisitor. Today, Celene and Briala would spend every hour of this gathering together, and they would make every second last.

As Briala made her way to the Imperial Chambers to wait for Celene, she noticed someone in the interior art gallery of the Winter Palace, looking at the statues of the Grey Wardens. He was a tall man, Fereldan judging from the armor he wore. He had a mane of dark hair pulled back into a knot, and blue eyes looking intently at the masterfully carved statues. The most striking thing she noticed about him were those blue tattoos on his face. Something only a Fereldan could do something so brazen.

The statues the man was looking were chiseled out of solid marble and carved into the images of knights, men and women both, all armed with swords and lances. Each face was carved so realistically that they looked like they would come to life. Celene had the previous gallery of statues removed and replaced with these over a decade ago. Everyone was awed by the gesture.

Briala didn't know why, but for some reason she felt compelled to speak with him. Like his apparent interest in the statues urged her to take part in admiring the craftsmanship of these works.

"Magnificent aren't they?" Briala observed next to the stranger. "These statues were commissioned by Empress Celene to commemorate the Grey Wardens' victory over the Blight in Denerim ten years ago. She brought the best, most skilled artisans from all over the empire to depict their heroism. Each one a true piece of art."

"Pieces of art? Pieces of shit is more like it." The stranger scoffed with a think Fereldan accent.

"I beg pardon, Messere?" Briala asked, rather surprised with the man's tone and reaction.

"_This_ is supposed to honor the Wardens at Ferelden?" The man asked almost offended. "No mabari war hounds, or even a presentable griffin. I do, however, see plenty of lion and steed motifs, the symbols of Orlesian knighthood and nobility. If this is supposed to honor the Wardens at Ferelden, then it's a fucking insult. All I see is more Orlesian propaganda in an attempt to capture glory over something they had no part in."

"And who are you to make such judgment, Messere?" Briala asked one part curios, the other part offended.

"First of all, I'm someone who studied art and symbolism at the University of Val Royeaux. Second of all, I'm someone who was actually there in Denerim when the Blight was ended. So to see the Orlesian trying to cast those events like it was something glorious like they were the ones who saw it happen, is pretty insulting."

"Excuse me. I hate interrupt your conversation with such a lovely creature as this lady here..." A tanned elf with an Antivan accent interrupted. "But perhaps you could continue your conversation about the symbolism and presentation of Orlesian art another time? I'm sure there's other things we could be doing?"

"Right. Please excuse me, Mademoiselle." The Fereldan stranger turned and left the gallery.

Briala was left somewhat stunned by not only the man's words, but also his observation. It was true that the statues here did little to portray the actual events during the Blight, or even capture any Ferelden influences. They were commissioned by an Orlesian empress and crafted by Orlesian artisans, so it only made sense that they would look Orlesian. How art convey true events if it doesn't even represent the truth accurately?

Briala decided to push the thoughts of the man and his opinions of art aside. Celene was waiting for her in the Royal Apartments, and Briala didn't intend to keep her lover waiting.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael walked out of the Palace and made his way down the step down to the garden where most of the guests and attendees were congregating. The last time he was here two years ago, when he attended Celene's ball party, he was so preoccupied with trying to find the assassin that he never got to see the garden. It still didn't compare to beauties of the wild that he was used to, but it was lovely nonetheless. As he made his way down the steps, he saw a certain beardless, hairy-chested dwarf shooting the breeze with a human noble.

"The Prince of Starkhaven wrote to you again." The human noble informed. The man was a Marcher, judging from his accent.

"Of course he did. Just add that to the pile with the notes from the Merchant's Guild." Varric waved off.

"Oh, and Guard-Captain Aveline had a very...colorful message for you." The noble added. "Apparently, she isn't very happy with the state you left Lowtown in."

"Aw, jeez. Look, Isabella's the one who decided to throw a going away party. I can't help it if she decided to hire a half-assed fire dancer and got Daisy to start casting spells drunk." Varric groaned. The surface dwarf glanced over at the Inquisitor and looked at him like he was his salvation. "Rajmael! Andraste's perky tits, am I glad to see you."

Rajmael was a little worried as to why both the Prince of Starkhaven and the Guard-Captain of Kirkwall wanted Varric. Knowing the dwarf, he had to have been in some kind of trouble. "Alright, Varric. What did you do this time, and who'd you piss off?"

"Oh, why, Lord Inquisitor, I am offended." Varric huffed sarcastically. "I'll have you know that I've never been convicted of anything. Officially."

"And unofficially?"

Varric shifted in place rather sheepishly. "I'd probably be serving ten life sentences followed by an unceremonious execution into an unmarked grave."

"Oh, if any of that were true, my job would probably be much easier." The nobleman muttered to himself.

"And who're you?" Rajmael asked the human.

"Oh, this is Bran Kenric. Until recently her was the Viscount..."

"_Provisional_ Viscount." Kenric corrected.

"...Of Kirkwall." Varric finished.

"You mean to tell me the former head of a major city-state is now delivering your mail? How did that happen?" Rajmael asked disbelievingly.

"I have finally, gratefully, resumed my post as seneschal, now that Master Tethras has been elected Viscount of Kirkwall." Bran Kenric answered, relieved to say it himself.

Rajmael suddenly felt dazed, like someone struck him on the head with a mace. "I must be having a stroke or something. It sounded to me like you just said Varric was made the Viscount of Kirkwall."

"You heard right, Inquisitor. That's exactly what he said." Varric assured.

"Well, it seems you two have a great deal to discuss. Why don't I excuse myself." Bran walked off a small distance away from them to give them a moment.

"I...I think I need to sit down and take a moment to process this." Rajmael said trying to wrap his mind around this. He looked over to Bran with a look of bewilderment. "Varric doesn't enough have enough responsibility to attend a Merchant's Guild meeting, lies with every third breath, and I'm pretty sure he cheats at cards, yet you'll elect to lead an entire city-state?"

"That's exactly what happened, Your Worship." Kenric called over.

"Don't make such a big deal out of it, Inquisitor." Varric urged. "It's mostly just a formality. There's a keep that's more like a tomb, a throne more uncomfortable than reunions with my family, and a pointy crown I wouldn't be caught dead in. And an endless amount of complaints I have to do something about."

"Still, how the hell did that happen?"

"Well, when I got back to Kirkwall, everything was still a mess." Varric sighed. "None of the nobles wanted to step and take the job of being Viscount because they thought it was cursed, considering the tragic demises of its previous holders. No one was doing anything about the state the city was in, so I decided to coordinate relief efforts, get the businesses and harbor running again, and I guess they took that as me volunteering for the job."

"If you're doing all that, then what's the Champion doing? Is he still in the Anderfels?" Rajmael inquired. He hadn't heard any word of the Champion since he left for the Anderfels to tell the Grey Wardens of Weisshaupt what happened to their brethren in the South, and he Rajmael was eager to hear any word of him.

"Funny you should ask, 'cause Hawke's back in Kirkwall now, got back half a year ago actually." Varric answered gladly.

"Well, that's outstanding news! Tell me, what happened at Weisshaupt? What do the Wardens intend to do?" Rajmael asked, half curious and half excited. He had heard all the exploits of the Champion and wanted to know the details of his latest adventure.

Varric shrugged and scratched his head uncomfortably. "I...can't really say. Sorry, Inquisitor, but Hawke wants to keep the details of his latest exploits a secret, for now. And I sort of promised on Bianca's cocking ring that I wouldn't breathe a word of it to anyone."

"You know I'm not too bad about keeping secrets, either, Varric." Rajmael reminded.

"I know, Inquisitor, but I this is Hawke's story to tell or withhold, and not for me to blab about. I mean, I'll probably just makeup some bullshit story that everyone will believe, but I'll have to wait for Hawke to give me the OK to write down that story. Anyway, enough about that. I was hoping to catch you before the summit began. I got you a sort of present." Varric handed Rajmael an expensive-looking scroll stamped with the seal of Kirkwall.

"What's this?"

"This, my friend, is the official recognition of your titles and holdings in Kirkwall." Varric revealed with a big grin on his face. "Congratulations! You're an official Comte now."

Seneschal Bran walked over in protest. "You can't actually do that without..."

"Too late! Already did it." Varric interrupted smugly before his attention back to his friend. "I also drafted an alliance with the elf-led City Council of Wycome, and Keeper Deshana. Your clan's got some political muscle in the Free Marches now."

"That still needs to be reviewed by the..."

"You were leaving us to talk, remember?" Varric reminded the fussy seneschal. Bran sighed in frustration and walked away, but not out of earshot of their conversation.

"Giving lands and titles to men of authority? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were being crooked, Varric. Well, more crooked than usual, anyway." Rajmael joked.

"Look, it's not that big a deal, Inquisitor. And besides, what kind of politician would I be if I didn't pull impossible favors for good friends?" Varric laughed. "I have no idea how this Exalted Council's gonna turn out, but at least you'll have a title and a mansion waiting for you in Kirkwall if things don't go your way."

"Maybe we can get together in the Viscount's Keep and play some Wicked Grace with your friends." Rajmael suggested jokingly. "You can throw a couple of buildings in the pot."

"No! Not again." Bran shouted. "The Guard-Captain is still mad at you for trying to bet the guard barracks to Captain Isabella, who was going to turn it into a strip club."

"Aveline needs to calm down. I knew Rivaini was bluffing that last hand." Varric insisted.'

**~XoXoXo~**

Iron Bull had arrived with his Chargers before the Inquisitor did. They were doing a job clearing giant spiders that were nesting in some lord's vineyard in Northern Orlais, and were able to get it over with quickly before making their way here. Iron Bull couldn't believe that the Winter Palace actually had its own tavern. He always thought the Orlesians found such things to be too uncouth and lowbrow to have any place in the Winter Palace, but this proved that even people as snooty and uptight as Orlesian Nobleman needed a stiff drink now and again.

To make the time pass while they waited for their former employers arrival, Krem and the boys thought it would be a good idea to place bets on Iron Bull against the other tavern patrons in an arm-wrestling match. Thankfully, most of the people here were tanked enough to actually think they could win, and the Chargers were making some easy money.

"YEAH! What now?!" Iron Bull laughed raucously as threw his current opponent right off the table.

The Chargers laughed with their chief while the other betters around the tavern groaned in disappointment. They all bet a lot of money on the Bull's latest victim, but it turned out to be a bad investment. At this rate, they might be sitting through the Exalted March without their clothes on.

"Come on now! Is there not a real man among any of you Blighters here?!" Krem challenged, holding the winners purse in his hands. "Whose gut the guts and the biceps to take on the Iron Bull? I got this heavy bag of sovereigns for anyone who thinks they can take the Bull by the horns!"

The patrons all looked amongst themselves, but no takers stepped forward. They all wanted to see the massive oxman get beaten by a local, but after three Chevaliers, one captain of the guard, and four hired musclebound thugs, their hope was beginning to wane. Where was the Champion of Kirkwall when you needed him?

"I'll take that bet." A thick Fereldan accented voice sternly called from the back of the crowd. The crowd cheered and made way for the challenger who sat at the table opposite of the Bull.

"Ha-ha! Oh, you're all in for it now!" Laughed a tanned elf with an Antivan accent.

"Alright everyone! Here comes your savior. Get your gold and place your bets!" Krem hollered loudly.

Iron Bull eyed this stranger, and had to admit that he looked a lot tougher than the last eight humans he throttled. He was obviously some kind of military officer, judging from the way he carried himself, but it was hard to determine his rank since the guy wasn't wearing a uniform. The definitely from Fereldan, judging by the black armor her wore adorned with hound motifs. His companion was a tanned elf with dirty blonde hair and practically reeked of the Antivan leather armor he was wearing. The only thing that made Bull not take these guys all that seriously were ridiculous designs they had painted on their faces.

"So, guy, what's you name?" Bull asked, setting his arm on the table.

"You can call mer _'Ser'_, qunari." The man stated gruffly.

"Hmph. Little hard for me to take your tough-guy-talk when you're wearing makeup. But I gotta admit, it makes you both look kinda cute." Iron Bull mocked. "Tell me something, do you guys do each others' make up often?"

"Careful Chief, men who wear makeup are always more dangerous than they look." Krem joked sarcastically.

The stranger's eye twitched angrily. Obviously, he didn't care for the mercenaries' jokes. "Alright, now you've gone and made this a little personal. _Nobody_ knocks the ink."

"Ooh. You're even cuter when you're made." Iron Bull laughed.

"While I do admit that these marking are to enhance our already ridiculous handsomeness, I cannot abide your mockery." The elf huffed. "So how about this: I'll wager this bag of coins, a round for everyone in the house, and all of your men have to wear makeup for the duration of your stay here if my friend here can beat you."

"Alright, Chief, now you've got to kick this guy's ass." Krem insisted. "We've never backed out of a bet, and I sure as shit am not wearing makeup here."

"Okay, you've got my attention. But what if I win?" Iron Bull asked.

The elf paused thoughtfully for a moment before inspiration hit him. "Tell you what, I'm in a good mood today, so in the event that you do manage to beat my friend here, I'll give an Orlesian Battering Ram."

That was all the incentive Bull needed. He quickly took out his money and placed his arm on the table. May as well enjoy himself as much as possible while he waited for the Inquisitor.

"Oh, come on! Do you really need to be a disgusting perv here!?" The Fereldan man groaned in disgust at his elven companion.

"Hey, we're in a country full of...adventurous individuals. Besides, where will ever get the chance to see such a fine qunari specimen again?" The elf defended.

The stranger scoffed in disgust, placed his arm on the table and locked his grip with the Bull's. Despite the man's stature, the Tal-Vashoth mercenary still towered over him and had a huge advantage in reach and weight. To many in the tavern, this wasn't even going to be a contest.

Krem placed his hand over the competitors' interlocked fists and checked if they were both ready. "Alright, you ready, Chief? You ready...Ser? Begin!"

Iron Bull clenched his fist around the man's hand and torqued all his upper body strength, looking to finish his opponent right off before this contest even started. The Chargers cheered to see their Chief knock his opponent's arm down so fast.

"Ha! Pay up, elf!" Krem laughed. "Oh, and if you're going to do that trick you mentioned, I'd recommend plenty of rendered nug fat."

"As eager as I am to fulfill my bargain, I'm afraid you're celebrating a little too soon." The elf stated, pointing to his friend.

The elf was right and their celebration was short lived. Bull was failing to press the man's arm to the table. In fact, all his motion was stopped dead in place. Nothing happening, despite Bull's effort.

Bull was stunned, it should have been over now. The man's arm was bent over the side, yet no matter how much Bull pushed, he couldn't slam his arm down.

"Hm. Not bad, Tal-Vashoth. Guess you're not as weak as you look." The Fereldan stranger complimented sarcastically. "But you're still not strong enough."

Iron Bull was almost shocked senseless when the man began pushing his arm back. Iron Bull pressed all his weight down on the man's arm, trying to smash his wrist to the table, but it wasn't working. The man smiled a sinister grin, clenched the Bull's hand so hard, it felt like he was cracking his bones.

"Grr! C'mon! What the shit?!" Iron Bull shouted in frustration. This couldn't be happening. This stranger was actually forcing him back, no matter how much the Bull fought. He summoned all his strength to halt this guy, he wasn't going to lose in front of his men.

"Okay, I'm bored now." The Fereldan yawned. In one swift motion, he slammed Iron Bull's wrist to the table and threw the massive mercenary to the floor.

The tavern was filled with cheers and groans of all those who won and lost their respective bets. Krem and the Chargers were left crestfallen at not only the loss of everything they won and having to buy the house a drink, but the prospect that they must now all wear makeup for the duration of the Exalted Council was most humiliating. Krem was especially unhappy.

"Oh, come now, ser. Don't look so sad." The smart-aleck elf urged mockingly. "I think you'd look rather fetching in some makeup."

"Come on, let's go. I'm done here." The Fereldan stranger called his companion, collecting all the gold and leaving Iron Bull on the floor.

Stitches just came back from the latrine when he returned to the Tavern. He expected to see his Chief and the rest of the Chargers celebrating with ale with the gold from the money they had won from the arm wrestling bets. Instead, he returned to see his commander on the floor groaning in pain, and worse yet, seeing Lieutenant Krem putting on makeup. This was either a bad dream or the apocalypse. His realizations came to life when the Fereldan warrior with tattoos on his face walked past him. All he could do was stand there with his jaw hanging open like an idiot as the warrior walked past him.

"Hey, Skinner! Don't just stand there with your mouth open, looking like an idiot." Iron Bull hollered. "Come over here and give me a hand. I think that guy may have dislocated my shoulder."

"Be glad that's all he did, Chief." Skinner said, checking for any injuries. "Don't you know who that was?"

"A pair of pricks." Krem stated while applying some blemish to his cheeks.

"Oh, just be glad their not in earshot, Lieutenant." Skinner replied. "Last time I saw that man was in Denerim ten years ago during the Blight. Leading the charge to Fort Drakon."

"Wait a minute. No...you've gotta be shitting me!" Realization hit Iron Bull upside the head like the mace that took out his eye, and now shared Skinner's astonishment. "Hot damn, I almost had my arm dislocated by that guy?! I should have bought him a drink."

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael decided to make his way over to the tavern that was in the garden. With so many visitors here, all talking to each other and meeting people they hated, Rajmael had no doubt that there were enough alcohol here to drown a village. By the time he arrived there, Iron Bull and the Chargers had already caused a ruckus. Iron Bull couldn't stay long, seeing as he had an injury to tend to. Rajmael was beyond surprised to learn that someone not only beat the Iron Bull in an arm-wrestling match, but also managed to dislocate the Bull's arm in the process. Rajmael didn't know whether to be shocked or scared, because a man who was capable of beating Iron Bull in front of his men must have been one mean son of a bitch.

While Bull went off to have Stitches pull his massive arm back into his socket, Rajmael decided to sit down and have a drink. Take a moment to relax before the damned Exalted Council started. His pointed ears pricked when he heard the melodious singing voice that could only belong to Maryden Hawlewell, the lovely bard of the Inquisition's tavern.

The young minstrel was singing a ballad about the Inquisition and the people who fought for it. Orlesians, Fereldans, and Inquisition members alike began gathering around the beautiful young singer and gently tossed a few gold pieces her way as she sung. It was like Maryden's music had made all of them forget that they were all here to argue with one another, and was bringing them a sense of harmony and unity, if only for the briefest of moments. And standing at the front of the gathered crowd, was a young man wearing a wide-brimmed hat and patchwork clothing, and was looking at the pretty minstrel with more intent than the other onlookers.

Rajmael was actually quite surprised that Cole was standing amongst other people instead of hiding in the background watching them, and that he was actually allowing himself to be seen by people. Now that Cole was human, he must be getting used to being seen. What shocked Rajmael the most and almost made him choke on his own drink, was when the young bard finished her song, and Cole walked up to Maryden and gently kissed her. A gesture Maryden happily returned Cole's affection.

Rajmael swore he had never seen anything so adorable anywhere in human lands.

"Hello, Inquisitor." Cole greeted happily, finally noticing his friend's presence.

"Oh, Lord Inquisitor. Greetings." Maryden addressed with a smile.

"Is this what it looks like between you two?" Rajmael asked with a grin.

"Yes." Cole laughed warmly, holding Maryden's hand in his. "I wanted to learn more about being human, and I think I found the best part of it with Maryden. Her songs make people happy, forget their troubles. And I can make her happy in return."

Maryden hugged Cole close to her. "The world has ample pain, Inquisitor. The compassion Cole has is a rare gift indeed. I can think of nobody else to inspire to keep seeing."

"Well, then, carry on you two. I suspect many people would appreciate your gifts, even if only for a moment."

**~XoXoXo~**

It had been two years since Thom Ranier had set foot in the Winter Palace, back when he was using the name Blackwall. Two years since he revealed the truth of his identity and his crimes. Two years since the Inquisitor absolved him of his crimes and gave him the chance to redeem himself. Ever since then, Ranier had worked tirelessly to try and make up for the things he did by seeking out the men he betrayed and beg their forgiveness, aid them in any way he could. It had been difficult, but now Ranier had a purpose that was more fulfilling than anything he had ever done before in his whole life.

Now this Exalted Council, a gathering of prissy nobles who were so quick to forget that the only reason why they're still alive to complain is because of what the Inquisitor did for them. Like so many times before throughout history, people were so quick to discard their heroes once they became an inconvenience. Now that the Inquisition has served it's purpose, the privileged and powerful wanted to get things back to the way they were and get rid of the ones who saved them. It would seem the Inquisition and the Grey Wardens had more in commons than people might realize.

The Inquisitor was there for Thom when he needed it, he could do no less for the man who gave him a second chance. Some people needed to be reminded that Rajmael was a hero who gave up more than most could imagine to keep the world from falling apart. If Ranier could remind them in any way, he would.

In an attempt to pass the time and kill his boredom while he waited for the Inquisitor's arrival, Ranier decided to set up a few dummies in a corner of the garden and do a little target practice. He had seen Varric and Sera throw knives in the heat of combat like it was second nature, so he decided he might give a try. After the first five failures, he realized that knife-throwing was a lot more difficult than it looked. Mostly, he just kept hitting the target with the side or pommel of the knife, and even when he did manage to land the knife in the dummy, it was always off the target he threw at.

Thom decided to give it another try. He held the knife firmly in his hand, aimed it at that damned target on the dummy, and threw it hard. The knife veered way off target and took a bad bounce of the marble wall. Ranier ducked as the knife flew over his head.

The stray knife was caught in midair by the mailed hand of a stranger that Ranier didn't recognize. He was a tall figure with a mane of dark hair pulled back in a knot to hold his bangs. His black armor looked Fereldan, judging from the design. Most noticeable was the blue tattooing on the man's face.

"Well, I've got to admit, that was a terrible throw. You're more likely to harm yourself than your target." The stranger observed in a thick Fereldan brogue.

"Really? You think you could do better?" Ranier challenged.

The stranger flipped the knife in the air, caught it by the blade, then flicked it out of his hand with astounding speed and dexterity. The knife flew the air and landed right between the dummy's eyes. Ranier had to admit, that was damned impressive.

"You're throwing too much from the shoulder and not enough from the wrist. And you don't want to hold the blade too tightly, your grip should be more delicate to let it fly out of your hand." The stranger instructed.

"Well, you do seem to be more of an expert at this than I am. I'll remember that, thanks." Thom said graciously.

The stranger eyed Ranier like he was trying to recognize him from somewhere. "You...you're Thom Ranier, are you not? One of the Inquisitor's companions?"

"I am, ser. And I did have the honor of fighting by the Inquisitor's side." Thom confirmed.

"Ah, perfect. So many new faces here, I wanted to make sure that I wasn't mistaken. You see, I've actually been looking for you, and wanted to take a moment of your time, Thom Ranier." The stranger requested.

"Oh? How might I help you, Ser?"

"Would you look up there, please?" The stranger pointed his finger straight up.

Thom Ranier directed his eyes skyward, searching for whatever his new acquaintance was pointing at. All he could see was a blue sky. Then he felt what must have been a battering ram smash him square in the chest. The stranger planted his mailed fist straight into Ranier, sinking his knuckles a couple inches into his body. He struck his unwitting victim with such force he actually lifted Ranier's heavy frame into the air. Ranier fell to his knees, gasping for breath, trying to get air back into his lungs while at the same time trying not to puke his own guts out.

Not even letting Ranier have a second to recover, the stranger grabbed him by his hair, and forced him to look his attacker in the face, and Ranier was too hurt to fight back. There was a terrible anger in the stranger's eyes as they seemed to smolder like fire. And his teeth seemed sharper than normal, like a beast's.

"That, Thom Ranier, was for daring to take the name of Blackwall as a smokescreen to evade your crimes." The stranger growled hatefully. "A man who would kill an entire family then have the gall to falsely wear the mantle of the Grey is an insult to everyone who _actually_ served in the Wardens. An it's insult _I_ will not ignore. And after the shit you pulled, punching you is the least you deserve." The stranger turned his back on Ranier and proceeded to walk away. "Don't bother getting up. I'll just hurt you more. Or go ahead an ignore me, that'll be more fun."

The Fereldan assailant walked away, while Ranier remained on the ground trying to recover from his attack. Never, in all the years he spent on the battlefield, had he ever been hit like that. He didn't humans could hit that hard, which made him wonder how in the Maker's name was he still alive.

Still, by now, Ranier was used to people being mad and hitting him for the things did. He lost count how many times he had been hit by his former comrades after twelve. And the man did have a point, it was the least Ranier deserved. He just never expected to get hit that hard by anything that wasn't a giant. Which made Thom wonder one thing: Who or what in the Maker's name was that mean bastard?

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael sat back down at his table to enjoy a glass of wine before looking for more of his comrades. A glass of West Hill Brandy sounded perfect right now. Great taste, and enough liquor to get a decent buzz. Just as he began to savor his drink, he noticed something that was most unwelcome to him.

"And just what the hell do you want now? Did I not make it clear that I never wanted to see you again?" Rajmael asked angrily to the person standing behind him.

A certain elf sat herself across from Rajmael with a humble look on her face. It was the Red Jenny who once fought with the Inquisitor, Sera. The two of them had a massive falling out after the discovery of the Temple of Mythal when Sera blatantly insulted and mocked the elven people, and Rajmael made his disgust for Sera's immaturity, hypocrisy and racism very clear. After Corypheus' death, Rajmael was quite content to see Sera leave.

"Look, I know things went bad 'tween you an' me." Sera started off calmly.

"No, you made things bad between you and me, with your constant ridicule and disrespect towards my people, and your immature attitude." Rajmael reminded sternly.

"Yeah, then you slapped me, and made me look like a right arse in front of everyone in the Inquisition." Sera jabbed back bitterly.

"And I could have done worse with full justification. You and I both you've done worse to people for less." Rajmael countered, his voice starting to rise.

Sera sighed, trying to take a calming breath. "This isn't why I came here."

"Then what did you come here for? You and I were never friends."

"Look, what I said was wrong. Andraste's tits, I was being a total bitch. And I'm sorry, to you and your little girl." Sera finally confessed, swallowing her foolish pride. "I still don't believe in any of that elfy stuff, but I shouldn't acting like an arsehole to people who've been getting a raw deal forever, like a lot of pricks that came here."

Rajmael quirked an eyebrow in disbelief. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. That it was actually Sera saying these words, and actually making sense. "Is that all? You come to me now to say something you should have said two years ago?"

"Look, I'm not really good with talkin' these kind a' words, 'kay? I was really mad at and thought you were being a prick, and I needed some time to actually think things out a little bit." Sera explained, remaining calmer than Rajmael had seen her. "I took a lot of time to think about the things you said to me, an' after a while, I started thinkin' maybe you were right. I was thinkin' too much about me, and not how the things I did could make things worse for other people. I coulda been doin' somethin' more with my Friends, tried harder to make the little people's lives better, and try to stop bein' such a arse to elves, even if I don't like elfy things."

"And? Doing things like what?" Rajmael asked, wanting to see if Sera actually meant what she said.

"Well, I got some Friends together. All of 'em were in the wrong place, or the wrong sort of whatever. So I got everyone together and made an 'us'. Now we're a real thing, not just a thing that the nobs forget when we nab their knickers. Red Jennies who can do a lot for a lot of people. Really make a difference, even if these nobs make the Inquisition go away." Sera explained with that Denerim lingo of hers. "And all that stuff I said about elves being stupid, well, that's why I'm talkin' to you."

Rajmael didn't know if he was already drunk from the brandy, or if what he was hearing was real. "Lots of people say lots of things that don't end up meaning anything. I believe you said something like that once, Sera. Words don't mean anything unless you put them into action."

"Well, I guess I'm just gonna have to prove it, 'cause I'm not gonna let you get away with thinkin' I'm just a total bitch no one should like. If ya need me for anythin' during this whole Exalted Council business, I'll be here." Sera offered.

That had to be the most mature thing Rajmael had ever heard Sera say. There was only one thing he could do at a moment like this. "Sera, wait. Would you like to have a drink, on me?"

A big grin spread across Sera's face, and happily sat back down at the Inquisitor's table. They were still far from being friends, but this was certainly a better start than when they first met.

**~XoXoXo~**

Vivienne held a glass of Champaign in her hand in the middle of the garden salon, surrounded by a following of admirers. Once again, the Imperial Enchanter found herself right where she belonged: the center of politics, wielding her influence, and at the forefront of Orlesian diplomacy. In the years since Vivienne left the Inquisition, she quickly set to work to rebuild the Circle of Magi, as apposed Divine Victoria's new, impractical policies concerning mage independence. Allowing Fiona and malcontents to practice magic with no oversight, despite being the ones who started the Mage-Templar War, was the first step to another magical conflict. In the Divine's naivety and shortsightedness, she failed to realize that she was setting a precedence for another Imperium here in the South.

Magic is dangerous, and mages, no matter how many are inherently good people, are a danger to everyone else. Just like the incident at Kirkwall with that lunatic Anders, it would only take a few irresponsible mages to destroy countless innocent lives and turn the entire world against mages. These were undisputed truths, and if the Divine wasn't going to address this issue as it should be, then Vivienne was determined to do it for her.

Thankfully, Vivienne still had many of the Loyalist Fraternity, mages who understood and appreciated their place in the world, under her leadership, and thanks to the political connections she made with her dearly departed Bastien, she had the influence to give them actual standing in politics. Soon, she would resurrect the Circle of Magi from the ashes of the Mage-Templar War that would rival Fiona's pitiful College of Enchanters, and it would exist outside the Divine's pitiful mandates. All Vivienne needed to do was sway more of the lords of the South to her cause.

"Ah, Madame Vivienne! How blessedly wonderful it is to know you are here." An Orlesian duke greeted. He was dressed in a fine snoufler-skin doublet with dyed blue and green to compliment his family mask, which was extravagantly adorned with sapphires and emeralds. In his right hand, he carried a horse-headed cane to support him, for he walked with a severe limp. He had suffered some terrible injuries many years ago after a confrontation with a Fereldan.

"Duke Girarde, how lovely to see you." Vivienne greeted graciously. The two of them became acquainted through her darling Bastien many years ago. Right now, the duke stood to be one of her greatest supporters, for they shared many strong views on the matter of magic. "Tell me, my dear, have given any thought on the matter we discussed at your wife's salon?"

"Oh, yes, of course. And I want you to know, you'll have my house's full support." Duke Girarde promised.

"Excellent! I believe you'll find you made the right decision. You will surely benefit from this in the future." Vivienne assured with a dazzling smile.

The duke hobbled over to the table and grabbed himself a drink, keeping all his weight on his cane. "After the last few years of utter insanity, how can I not? The Empress makes a rabbit marquis of the Dales, the Divine gives mages freedom with no supervision, it's madness!"

"Indeed. We live in days of many changes, and must remain the sensible ones if we're to guide our people through them." Vivienne agreed. "We cannot let the shortsighted foolishness of a few endanger the many."

"And your efforts these last two years have certainly solidified your faction's place in Court." Girarde complimented. "But remember, Madame Vivienne, what you have done is merely a start. With my house's assistance, you will be able to extend your influence throughout the rest of the South."

"I can assure you, my dear duke, that your house's assistance is well placed, and will be well rewarded."

"If there was any country that sorely needed the vision of someone like you, it would most certainly be Fereldan." Girarde took a large drink from his champaign glass as though to wash the taste out of his mouth for saying that country's name. "That uncultured, backwater excuse for a kingdom lacks any form of civility. We rule those putrid dog-lords for nearly a century, and you would think they'd learn a thing or two from us. Instead, they are content to remain a nation full of barbarians."

"Better a nation of barbarians, than an empire of inbred pansies." A grim voice behind them said disrespectfully with a thick Fereldan accent.

"How dare you?! Who do you think you are?!" Duke Girarde demanded as he leaned on his cane and turned to face the man who dared to have the gall to insult the empire right in his ear.

The duke's bravado vanished into thin air as he turned as pale as a corpse and his crippled legs almost gave out from beneath when he came face to face with the man. The man in question was a tall, imposing figure with dark hair in black Fereldan armor and blue tattoos on his face. His eyes were filled with a twisted sense of glee, reflected in that sinister, toothy grin of his.

"Aww, you don't remember me, Girarde? Well, I could never forget you. How're the legs doing?" The Fereldan asked, his sinister grin growing wider, showing off his oddly sharp-looking teeth. "Now, what was that you were saying about Ferelden? Maybe you and I should have another..._conversation_. Like we did back at the University."

Duke Girarde went as pale as a corpse and began shaking like a leaf where he stood. He trembled so hard he could barely hold his cane in his hand. His eyes were as wide as carriage wheels, filled with a terror Vivienne hadn't seen outside of a demon attack. The Orlesian duke was so gripped with fear, he actually wet himself right where he stood.

"I-I-I, augh, I-I'm s-sorry M-M-Madame V-Vivienne. M-my h-h-house c-ck-can't support you." Girarde stuttered frantically. He turned away and began hobbling towards the exit as fast as his crippled legs could get him, leaving a trail of urine behind him.

"It was good to see you again, Girarde. We should do this again some time!" The Fereldan mockingly called after the fleeing Orlesian noble.

Vivienne stood in utter astonishment and outrage. One of her most ardent supporters, whose backing and influence could have greatly aided her cause, just blatantly ran out on her like a scared child, wetting himself in public, to boot. And this uncouth, vile-mannered dog-lord ruined this opportunity for her. To say she was livid would be a colossal understatement.

"Do you have any idea what you've just done?" Vivienne demanded the Fereldan stranger angrily.

"I just said sent a grown man crying like a little girl and pissing himself in public, while simultaneously ruining whatever deal or machination you intended to have with him." The stranger answered sarcastically. "And it only took five minutes and a few sentences. And my mother didn't think I'd ever have a career in diplomacy."

Vivienne couldn't believe this man's blatantly disrespectful attitude. It was everything she could do to ignore the impulse to freeze the man where he stood and shatter him like glass. "Just who do you think you are?"

"I think...I've got better things to do with my time than waste my breath on some old Orlesian social climber." The man said answered rudely as he downed a drink.

"This might be too much for an ignoramus like you to see, but I am not actually Orlesian." Vivienne corrected condescendingly.

The stranger finished his drink then wiped his mouth on his mailed sleeve. "Maybe not by blood, by you are in your heart, which is even more disgusting. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got more important things to do than waste my time with a decrepit old mage."

The stranger rudely shoved his way past Vivienne and walked away, his back intentionally facing the enchanter. Vivienne wanted so badly to throw a spear of ice into the man's back, or at least blow one of his legs of to see him crawl on the ground, but she was above such inclinations. The man was trying to goad her into a fight, to make her look like an emotional fool and discredit her agenda in front of witnesses, she knew he was. Vivienne would not play this man's game. Still, she couldn't help but wonder who that vile Fereldan was.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael came upon Thom Ranier, doubled over on his knees with a fist-shaped indention in his torso. Rajmael used his healing magic to undo any damage that might have been done to Ranier's internal organs. Apparently, some prick was still pretty angry about Thom's crimes, and decided to take the opportunity to throw him a cheap-shot. In an attempt to help Ranier get his mind off the incredible amount of pain he was in, the two of them talked about what he had been up to for the last two years. Rajmael was gladdened to hear that Ranier had been trying to make up for what he did to his men, to try to give hope to those who were downtrodden and desperate. In times like these people needed someone to give them hope, and Ranier's redemption could help bring that.

After his conversation with Ranier, Rajmael decided to finally seek out the most important person in this whole gathering. Most important as far as he was concerned, anyway. Cassandra, his Nevarran princess.

Rajmael made his way to the very edge of the garden, a quiet spot on top of the hill where it overlooked the entire Orlesian countryside, and that's where he found her. His vhenan. Unlike many other ladies, she wore no fancy gown or precious jewelry, which was typical of her. Instead, Cassandra wore the armor and tunic of the Lady Seeker, her new rank as head of her newly reestablished order, with the Eye of the Sun emblazoned on her chest and pauldrons.

The only thing different about Cassandra that Rajmael could see, was the tightly braided ponytail that extended down the middle of her back. Rajmael couldn't help but think of how cute it made her look. Cassandra hadn't seen him yet, and she had a very nervous look on her face as she unconsciously fiddled with her fingers. No doubt she was trying to plan out how to greet him in her mind, but couldn't think of a proper strategy, such was her way. Rajmael decided to surprise her a little.

The Inquisitor stealthily made his way around her and tapped the Seeker on her shoulder, making her turn around to see him. Cassandra, one of the most fearless and fearsome women he had ever met, nearly jumped out of her skin at the sight of him.

"Ah! I-Inquisitor! You're here...good. It's...nice to see you again." Cassandra said nervously. She was trying to plan out their reunion in her head, but his sudden presence caught her off guard. She couldn't think of anything proper or romantic to say.

"After all this time apart, that's all you can say to me, Cassandra?" Rajmael asked, faking disappointment.

"Well...I was trying to think of something to say. I had written it down, but lost my notes along the...hmph!" Cassandra's explanation was cut short when Rajmael pulled her into a deep yet gentle kiss. Cassandra melted into the embrace, and held her lover close lest her legs give out. Even after all this time they've been together, Rajmael's kisses still made her knees weak and her heart race.

After being apart for so long, Rajmael didn't want to stop kissing Cassandra. Sadly, they both needed to breathe. He finally released his lover, and gently caressed her face, his eyes gazing at hers. "I've missed you so much, ma vhenan."

"And I you, my love." Cassandra sighed contentedly.

The two of them sat on a nearby bench to take a moment to reunite. Cassandra talked about what she had been doing since she had left to find more of the Seekers who survived Lord-Seeker Lucius' insanity. She managed to find a few who were in hiding and scattered to the winds. She had told them the truth, not only of Lucius' betrayal, but also of their Vigil, how they are temporarily rendered Tranquil to be given their abilities. Some felt betrayed and refused to return, while others accepted it, and chose to help Cassandra rebuild the Order. Cassandra was now the Lady Seeker of the Order, and was rebuilding the Seekers in the Hunterhorn Mountains. This time, every recruit would know the truth. No more secrets, no more lies. They would be devoted to the truth, as they always should have been.

As Cassandra spoke, she couldn't help but notice how worn out Rajmael looked. Like he hadn't slept in ages. That vibrant, colorful aura she had sensed from him when they first met had dimmed significantly. The years and stress as Inquisitor had taken an obvious toll on him, but he was trying so hard not to appear weak in front of others. He had done so much for so many, yet everyone never seemed to care what effect this life had on him.

"Enough about me, though. How have you been, Rajmael?" Cassandra asked with genuine concern. "I know being Inquisitor has never been easy on you, but you have done so much good for so many. How is your clan? How is Eva?"

An air of somber melancholy gripped the Inquisitor when he heard his adopted daughter's name. Of all the questions that could have been asked, that was the one Rajmael was most reluctant to answer. He had just seen Eva the day before, but it was not a happy reunion.

"Did something happen to her, Rajmael?" Cassandra inquired, sensing her lover's dourness. "Please You know you can tell me."

Rajmael looked in Cassandra's eyes and saw the concern she had for him. He still felt the sting of the words that were said with Eva, the guilt that he had been hiding now tore him up inside. But it was pointless to hide his feelings from Cassandra. He knew she loved him, and wanted to share in his burdens, as he did with hers. How could he keep this from her?

Rajmael took a deep breath and decided to tell her. "You know why I was late coming to the Exalted Council, yes?"

"Of course. You wanted to stop at the Temple of Mythal, to look in on your clan and all the elves that have made their pilgrimage their." Cassandra confirmed.

"Well...I went there to check on Eva. And I couldn't have predicted how horribly wrong it would go."

**~Yesterday, At the Temple of Mythal~**

Where the majestic Temple of Mythal was once lost from the sight and memory of the elves, a missing testament to the greatness and power of their people, it now stood as a beacon of hope and a reminder of what they could be. After the Inquisitor discovered it in the Arbor Wilds and protected it from Corypheus defiling hands, the knowledge of its discovery spread like wildfire across the world, an elven temple untouched by human hands, rich with the knowledge the elves had lost. Elves from all over Southern Thedas, Dalish and City elves alike, began to flock this sacred place to rediscover their lost heritage. And with this lost lore, they could take the first steps to rebuilding their broken people.

However, wonder and hope weren't the only things this temple inspired with its discovery. There were also many who wished to deny and admonish the temple's existence. Chantry members who refused to acknowledge the sanctity of this place, denouncing that anything that praise are to anyone but the Maker is heresy. Then there were those who outright refused to believe in any kind of elven greatness. Many of these condescending voices demanded the eradication of this temple for the sake of their petty prejudices.

Thankfully, these demands were quickly silenced. The Temple of Mythal was under the official protection of the Inquisition and the Marquis of the Dales, and supported by Divine Victoria, which stopped anyone from wanting to make any action against the temple or those who visited it. What's more, the Inquisitor adamantly refused any human entry to the Temple of Mythal, whether their intentions were benign or not. This was a place of elven knowledge, therefore only the elves should be allowed to learn its secrets and spread them as they saw fit.

Now, the temple was no longer an empty ruin, but a bustling site full of life. Elves from every walk of life were making prayers and talking amongst themselves as they studied and exchanged lore and knowledge with one another. Whole classes of elven children were learning from elders about their lore and history, while craftsmen, healers, and hunters were teaching their skills to apprentices. All the relics and treasures that the Inquisitor had gathered, even the ones he reclaimed from the Vir Banal'ras in Elgar'nan's Bastion, were being carefully studied and catalogued by the many Keepers and their Firsts who came here.

But most gratifying of all, was seeing all the young elven mages practicing their magic inside the temple's courtyards without fear of persecution. There were so many of them. The Dalish used to only be able to have only one or two mages in a clan, and would need to send any other mages away to another clan. Some clans would just discard the extra mage entirely. This practice was born out of necessity, for with only one Keeper, there could only be so many apprentices, lest they draw the attention of demons or Templars. But now that they had a place where they could train in magic in safety, without the fear of discovery, and with other elven mages to teach them, the Dalish no longer needed to perform such barbaric practices. It wasn't the empire they lost, but it was a good start.

It had been two years since Rajmael had first set foot in the Temple of Mythal. He didn't just learn of his people's past here, he witnessed it with his own eyes. He partook in a ritual that petitioned the favor of Mythal to gain entry to these walls. Spoke with the truest elvhen, the Sentinels, the immortal guardians from the time of Elvhenan. And not long after that, Rajmael met the vessel of Mythal herself. However, Rajmael was not here for any of that. He was here to visit his family and clan that had come here.

Rajmael found Eva at her and her grandmother's tent just outside the temple. Ariva was out teaching the other da'len the ways of the healer while Keeper Deshana was with the young mages. Rajmael could scarcely believe his eyes when he saw Eva. Two years apart, and she was growing so fast he almost didn't recognize her. Her hair was longer and held in knotted tail, and she was much taller than when he last saw her. Eva was the mirror image of her mother, Evanura, when she was that age.

Eva was sitting on a small chair, reading a book. She was so engaged with what she was reading she hadn't noticed her foster-father's presence.

"Aneth'ara, da'vhenan." Rajmael greeted with a happy smile.

Eva looked up from her book, but didn't rise from her seat. "Andaran'atishan, Rajmael."

There was no joy in Eva's voice, no look of greeting on her face like Rajmael was hoping to see. Instead, her voice was shaky, filled with apprehension. There was a frightened bewilderment in her eyes, like she had seen something so horrible, but couldn't believe it, like some kind of nightmare. Something was clearly wrong.

"Eva? What's wrong?" Rajmael asked deeply concerned.

"What's wrong? Why don't you tell me?" Eva all but demanded, her lips quivering, her on the verge of tears as she handed Rajmael the book she was reading.

Rajmael didn't understand. Was the contents of this book upsetting her? What could it possibly say? Rajmael opened the book and flipped through its pages, glancing at the words written inside.

**Evanura, my darling, beloved Evanura,**

**It has been weeks now since the Templars and their damned Chantry took you from me...**

Rajmael couldn't believe his eyes as he suddenly realized why Eva was so distressed. This was her father's journal. It recorded what Nethras did after the Templars attacked their tribe and killed Eva's mother. Now Rajmael understood the inner turmoil Eva was feeling.

"Eva, where di you find this?" Rajmael asked in utter shock.

"I don't think that is important." Eva returned vehemently. Her green eyes filled with confusion and anger. "What is the meaning of this, Rajmael?"

Rajmael took a deep breathe, trying to breath some courage into his lungs. He dreaded this moment more than any of the unholy creatures he had fought during his time as Inquisitor. There was no avoiding it now, and there wasn't a lie he could make that Eva would ever believe, even if he wanted to. Rajmael had to tell her the truth.

Rajmael told Eva everything. That her father survived his encounter with the Templars and was taken prisoner. How Nethras discovered the Bastion of Elgar'nan and revived the Vir Banal'ras. Nethras' plan to used the Elgar'nan Enansal at the Temple of Nehn'numinas to poison the humans of the South. How Rajmael killed her father with an ethereal blade, and buried him near Skyhold.

"Oh. Father..." Eva wept bitterly, tears of pain burning her face. Her eyes scowled angrily at Rajmael, full of hurt an betrayal. "How...how could you? For two years...two years you've been lying to me! You didn't think I had the right to know that my father was still alive? That is was you, not the Templars, that killed him?! What, were you too busy being the damned Inquisitor to tell me this little detail!? I deserved to know!"

Eva's words stung Rajmael worse than any weapon could, and wished there was something he could say to somehow assuage her anger and his own guilt. "Not a day goes by that I don't hate myself for what I did. Your father and I were as brothers, but I had no choice. My duty compelled me to act against him."

"Your duty? Is that all you think about? I haven't seen you are even heard a word from you in two years. Do you mean to tell me you care more about the stupid world than you do about me, our clan?!" Eva yelled, her voice cracking with anger. "You were one of us before you became a hero to the rest of the world, a hero that everyone wants to get rid of now. I loved you like my father, and you...lied to me. I thought I meant more to you than that..."

"Eva...I'm so sorry. I didn't want to hurt you." Rajmael had no more excuses than that.

"Well...I guess that's just one more thing you failed to do." Eva said painfully with tears burning down her face. She turned her face away from him, unable to look him in the eyes. "I hate you, Rajmael...I **HATE** you!"

Rajmael felt like a white-hot blade stabbed his heart and twisted when he heard Eva say those words, but dared not go after her. For as much as he wished he could deny it, no matter his reasonings, he did betray Eva. Of all the injuries he had sustained in his difficult life, this one cut the deepest.

**~XoXoXo~**

"Oh, Rajmael. I'm so sorry." Cassandra said full of sorrow. Her heart truly felt for him, she knew Rajmael loved that child more than anything in the world, like she was his own daughter.

"The worst part is that is that she has every right to be angry with me." Rajmael admittedly regretfully. "I kept the truth from Eva because I was afraid of what she might think, what she would feel, even though she deserved to know the truth. I tried to tell myself that I would tell her when she was older, when I thought she was ready, but that was just an excuse. Now, I may have destroyed my relationship with her beyond repair."

Cassandra held Rajmael's hand in hers consolingly in an attempt to raise his spirit. "My love, I know it seems hard right now, but I know you two will move past this. I know what Eva is going through. When I was her age, after I lost my brother, I was angry at the whole world and I looked for any reason to take out my anger on anything. I eventually got over my anger, but I had no one in my life who truly cared for me. Eva has you, and I know how much you love her. I know that you two can get past this."

"I truly hope you're right, ma vhenan." Rajmael sighed. "I just don't know how in the world she even found Nethras' journal. How could it have just wound up in Eva's hands?"

"We moved all the relics and treasures the Vir Banal'ras had acquired. Perhaps that journal was amongst them?" Cassandra guessed.

"A mystery for another time, I suppose." Rajmael paused for a moment, trying to push the fallout with his adopted daughter out of his mind. As much as he didn't want to, he had to focus on the matter at hand. "Well, I suppose I've had my pity-party. Perhaps it's time to get back to addressing the reason why we're all here."

Rajmael rose from his seat, but Cassandra never let go of his hand.

"My love, I know the time you've had as Inquisitor has not been easy for you, and what comes next will be even harder. But no matter what happens next, no matter what decision you make, know that I will stand with you. You always have me."

Rajmael couldn't help but be touched by Cassandra's words. He was one of the only people who knew of Cassandra's hidden romantic side, and he was the only one she would share that side with. He held her hand to his face and basked in its warmth. "Of all the things that have happened to me as Inquisitor, you're the greatest, Cassandra."

Rajmael and Cassandra walked from the garden, and in hand, and Cassandra leaning on his shoulder. Some lords and ladies began whispering of scandal and impropriety at the sight of the Inquisitor with the Lady Seeker, or more profoundly, a Dalish elf with a Nevarran princess, but neither of them cared. Amongst all the turmoil and political machinations, the two of them had this brief moment together, like something out of one of Varric's cheesy novels. Walking hand in hand through the palace gardens, caring only for each other.

As they walked, there was one more memory that stirred in the back of Rajmael's mind.

**~Yesterday, At the Temple of Mythal~**

Rajmael stood in his Keeper's tent outside the Temple of Mythal. Deshana and his stepmother both stood inside with him, and they had both learned what happened between Rajmael and Eva.

"I am sorry what has happened between you and Eva, Rajmael. I know how painful this is for you, even if you're trying to keep it to yourself." Deshana may be blind, but even she could see how much this pained her former First.

"She is young, Rajmael, and has been through so much. Her heart is filled with conflicting emotions." Ariva consoled. Being a lifelong parent herself, she knew these things were a part of growing up, and Rajmael's childhood was not unlike Eva's. "Remember when you were her age? You had been through so much and were filled with so much anger, but you moved on."

"That's because I had you, Nethras and Junnarel." Rajmael recalled nostalgically. "I haven't been there for Eva, and now I'm not sure I ever can be."

"That is part of what we wanted to discuss with you, Rajmael." Deshanna revealed seriously. "From what we have heard, the human kingdoms are now calling for your Inquisition's disbandment, is that correct?"

"Ferelden is, yes. Orlais, on the other hand, wants the Inquisition to become legitimate by answering to imperial authority." Rajmael answered dourly.

"You mean to say they want you to be their serfs. Typical Orlesians." Ariva scoffed. "What do you intend to do, Rajmael?"

"I honestly do not know yet. Both sides have their valid points as well as their flaws." Rajmael answered unsure. "The Inquisition has done more in the last two years than the Chantry has done in two hundred, and our independence allows us to solve problems without being hindered by political baggage. However, we only declared the Inquisition to restore peace, not play nanny to the world."

"Then perhaps it would be best to just disband and let all your soldier go home to their families." Ariva suggested earnestly. "Do not repeat the same mistake the Chantry did by trying to regulate the world to a certain mandate."

"Are you saying that because you care about the welfare of the world, or because it's what you think I should do?" Rajmael inquired curiously.

"Rajmael, everything you have done as Inquisitor has made this world better, for our people especially. Never, in almost two thousand years, have our people known such respect." Deshanna said proudly. "Now our people need a leader, one that both the elves and humans will respect and listen to. We want you to become the Keeper of Clan Lavellan."

This revelation caught Rajmael completely off guard. It's what he had been trained for his whole life as First under Deshanna, but he never actually believed that day would come. He always thought of Deshanna as eternal, and never actually considered taking her place.

"Deshanna...you actually want to step down as Keeper? Clan Lavellan has never known another leader like you."

"I know, and it is precisely why it's time for me to step down." Deshanna answered wearily. "I'm old, Rajmael. Very old and very tired. I've guided four generations of our clan, and now we're entering a new era full of change. The clans need a leader who can help guide our people in this new era if we're to keep what we've gained."

"And what about Ariva? Wouldn't she be a better candidate for being the Keeper?" Rajmael asked.

"I most certainly could, my son, but Deshanna is right. The clans need a Keeper who both our people and the humans will listen to." Ariva concurred. "Your voice guarantee that our people are heard. You could finally come home, my son. Be the leader our people need. Be the father that Eva needs right now."

This was a fair argument. Rajmael never desired to be Inquisitor, and the years of this tiresome duty have taken their toll on him. He longed for the simplicity and familiarity of his old life. However, he owed it to the men and women who served under him, who died in service to him, to at least stand up for the Inquisition. He was never one to simply roll over for anybody.

"I shall...consider it, Keeper Deshanna." Rajmael granted. "I cannot make a decision until the Exalted Council begins."

Ariva stood up and walked over to her adopted child, and hugged him close, as if she were still afraid to lose him. "Please, come home, my son. Come home..."

**The Winter Palace, Present Time...**

Rajmael and Cassandra made their way over to the Palace Villa where the most important guests and members of the Exalted Council were housed. The Orlesian guests and delegates were busy sipping wine and bantering the latest scandals and gossip amongst themselves while taking bets on what would happen during the Exalted Council. The Fereldans mostly kept to themselves, remaining silent or speaking only when they needed to. Being in the heart of the empire that once enslaved their people had many of them on edge, and the Fereldans were experts at holding a grudge.

Everyone began chatting amongst themselves at the sight of the Inquisitor and Seeker Cassandra walking to the villa, but none approached them. If Rajmael had been walking by himself, they'd probably bend his pointed ears with meaningless conversation, but with Cassandra at his side, none dared to approach him.

As they made their to the upper floors of the villa, they heard the all too familiar, glib, confident voice of a certain Tevinter mage. Dorian, their old comrade and now Ambassador to the Imperium, was currently engaged in a conversation with none other than Duke Cyril de Montfort.

"Orlais is on your side, Lord Pavus." Duke Cyril insisted. "The Inquisition's support is not something to lose lightly."

"Which is why the Orlesian court wants to have it net and collared like a fancy trophy to put on display? Forgive me if I'm not totally convinced of the Orlesian court's altruism." Dorian rebutted, unconvinced. His eye caught a glimpse of his two companions and decided they were more worthy of his attention. "But I'm afraid you'll have to excuse me! I've some old friends to greet." Duke Cyril took the hint and left the Ambassador to greet his friends. "Inquisitor! Seeker Cassandra! How absolutely marvelous to see you two again. How long has it been? Don't tell me, I despise feeling old. Maker's breath, it's goof to see you both again."

"Dorian! I see you're making friends, as always." Rajmael jested.

"Oh, yes. I just love making nice with political sycophants. Reminds me of home." Dorian smiled sarcastically. "Orlais wants the Inquisition tamed, Ferelden wants it gone, and the Imperium sends one lowly ambassador. Whish is me, by the way. A _'reward for my interests in the South'_."

"It would seem that your _reward_ is our punishment, Pavus. It seems we'll never be rid of you." Cassandra jibed sarcastically.

"Ah, Seeker Cassandra. My, you two still look so adorable together, like something out of cheap romance novel." Dorian laughed. "If you two want sew any wild oats or let off any pent up steam before the Exalted March begins, there's this cozy spot behind the flower beds around the outer walls. No one would suspect anything."

"Ugh! Andraste's tears, Dorian! Have you no sense of decency?" Cassandra groaned.

"I'm afraid I left all sense of decency, propriety and shame back in Tevinter, Seeker." Dorian chuckled.

"I'm afraid to ask this, but how is it you know of this most private of places in the entire Winter Palace?" Rajmael asked apprehensively.

"Oh, now that is a tale. You see, Bull met this most charming Antivan elf, and he was the one who actually told us of that spot. So the three of us went over there and had ourselves an _Exalted Council Meeting_ in private."

"Ugh! Really, Dorian!?" Cassandra groaned, looking like she might vomit.

"Yes! He even gave Bull an Orlesian Battering Ram!" Dorian laughed heartily.

"Guh! I'm sorry, but I must go now, Rajmael, before Dorian's deviancy makes me vomit. I will see be with Divine Victoria." Cassandra quickly made off, a queasy look on her face that made it look like she actually was going to vomit.

The two mages walked over to the balcony, and both took in a moment to survey the scenery and realize where they were now. Not all that long ago, neither one of them would be have been welcomed with open arms are treated with the utmost respect, quite the opposite in fact. Rajmael was a heathen Dalish mage, and Dorian a mage noble from the Imperium. Life had certainly taken them in places they never expected to be.

"I'm glad I was able to come here. I fear this may be the last time we see each other again." Dorian said with his voice full of depression. "When the Exalted Council is ended, I'll be returning to Tevinter...for good, this time."

"What are you talking about, Dorian? Is something wrong?" Rajmael asked, rather surprised. Dorian always hid his feelings behind his witty personality. For him to be acting like this must have been dreadfully serious.

"It's my father. He's dead. Assassinated, I believe." Dorian answered sorrowfully. "I just received word this morning: a sickeningly cheerful letter congratulating me on assuming his seat in the Magisterium and my rise to lordship of House Pavus. We only met a few times when I was home. I honestly had no idea he had kept me as his heir. My rank as ambassador, it was his doing I'm told. His last attempt to keep me away once the trouble started. I _must_ go back."

Rajmael remembered Magister Halward Pavus, and the issue father and son had with one another. Halward had difficulty accepting his son's sexual orientation, but came to Ferelden to ask his son's forgiveness. Rajmael did what he could to assist. "I know things between you and your father were difficult, Dorian, but I am sorry for your loss."

"Thank you, Inquisitor. It still doesn't feel real." Dorian said sadly.

"What will happen between you and Bull if you go back to Tevinter?"

Dorian sighed deeply. "He _wants_ to come with me. I'm truly sad to say that a qunari simply cannot walk around the Imperium, even in the company of a magister. He doesn't want to hurt me, I don't want to hurt him. We're working it out as best we can."

"So what will you do when you get back to Tevinter? When you're officially a magister?"

"Oh, now that's where things are going to get interesting, because I can't wait to degrade and embarrass the Magesterium with my charming antics!" Dorian smiled. "I'll need an entirely new wardrobe!"

"And after that?"

"I find my father's killers and grant them the same courtesy. Then I find all the sorry bastards who are ruining my country's name, and do the same thing to them. They're probably the same people, so I'll almost literally be killing two birds with one stone."

Rajmael couldn't tell if Dorian was joking or being serious. "I doubt that's as quick and easy as you make it out to be. You might consider making some friends to help you out."

"Oh, now that's where it's really going to get fun." Dorian chuckled. "I got into contact with my old friend Maeveris Tilani, and she's gathered other Magisters who feel as we do. I'll teach them manners, take them shopping. What fun! We're calling ourselves the Lurceni."

"Well, Dorian, I wish you the best of luck in all of your endeavors." Rajmael bid sincerely.

"If you could give me whatever luck you had being the Inquisitor, I'd certainly put it to good use. Magisters are slippery bastards. Oh, and before I forget..." Dorian reached into his pouch and handed Rajmael a strange foreign locket with a blue crystal set inside it that seemed to be vibrating on its own will. "A small going away present. It's a sending-crystal, very useful for communicating across great distances, and very rare. If I ever get in over my head, or you being to go mad from the lack of my charming presence, this crystal will allow us to communicate. What? You think just because I'm leaving, you'd never see me again? That would be too cruel."

Rajmael couldn't help but smile at this gesture. There was no denying that he would actually miss the Tevinter pariah. "Thanks you, Dorian. I'll treasure this."

Dorian smiled, and looked like he might even start to weep. "No, thank you, Inquisitor. For everything you've shown me. You're my role model, you know? You've shown me that it's possible to change the world for the better, and that's exactly what I intend to do for my homeland. I couldn't ask for a better friend or shinning example to follow. Now, let's go, before they drink all the good wine."

**~XoXoXo~**

The Exalted Council was going to start soon. Rajmael decided to meet with the last of his comrades before the main event began. He made his way over to the Chantry delegation where the various Chantry Mothers and Grand-Clerics where debating amongst themselves and praying for the Divine's wisdom in these proceedings, and the Divine's guards stood silently in the closed helms with the Chantry Sunburst emblazoned on their chests. Rajmael couldn't sense any Templars amongst them; either these were newly appointed guards, or these were Templars who followed Cullen's example and no longer relied on lyrium.

The Chantry's delegation certainly stood out. After all, it certainly wouldn't do for the heart of human faith to blend in with the crowd. They were surrounded by the Sunburst banner, and Chantry mother's giving out blessings, hearing confessions and making prayers. One thing that struck Rajmael as odd was seeing someone in Chantry robes handling a litter of nugs, and handing some of them to certain delegates. Leliana had taken up nug breeding as a hobby, and must have gotten a new litter.

Rajmael saw Divine Victoria, his former spymaster, whom he had shared deep secrets and terrible arguments with. Despite their differences in the past, the two of them still managed to get along and work well together. Then Leliana's coronation came and she had to leave the Inquisition to lead the Chantry. Rajmael was beyond surprised about the reformations Divine Victoria made, not just the ones concerning the mages, but the reparations she made towards his people. Never in the history of the Chantry had their been a Divine who was so giving and respectful towards the elves.

These changes made Leliana many enemies, people who didn't want to see these changes, either out fear of racism, or because it conflicted with age-old beliefs. Some believed Victoria was too young and naïve to be leading, while others felt she was playing favorites over the majority of the faithful. So far, the Divine was able to handle them diplomatically, but Rajmael wondered how long it would be until someone actually decided to make a move against her. As the Inquisition's former Spymaster, Rajmael knew she could probably end a conflict before it began, so he wasn't too worried about her.

At the moment, Leliana was engaged in a conversation with Arl Teagan, the Lord of Redcliffe and the representative of Ferelden on the Exalted Council.

"Divine Victoria, Arl Teagan, I hope I'm not interrupting." Rajmael addressed.

"Of course not, Inquisitor." Leliana assured politely. "I was merely catching up with Arl Teagan. It has been a few years since we last saw each other."

"Inquisitor. Good to finally make your acquaintance." Arl Teagan said with respect.

"How is Redcliffe doing these days?" Rajmael asked.

"Blessedly quiet. The mayor sends his greetings. The people of Redcliffe remember the man who saved them during the Breach Crisis." Teagan said honestly. "My nephew Connor also send his regards from the College of Enchanters."

"If it's not too much to ask, I was hoping to take a moment of the Divine's time." Rajmael requested.

"Perfectly alright, Inquisitor. We shall speak again later, Your Perfection." Teagan obliged.

"I just wish we could meet under happier circumstances. Many people are frightened by the Inquisition's power, but I will do all I can to allay their fears. Sadly, as Divine, I must also do my best to remain impartial and render fair judgment to everyone."

"Any advice you can give me before this Council starts?" Rajmael asked.

"Represent the Inquisition as best as you can, remind people of your accomplishments, and let them know you are not a tyrant to be feared." The Divine answered sincerely. "I may no longer be your spymaster, but I will always be there if you need me." Leliana walked over back to her delegation to greet her other friends who were waiting for her. Leaving Rajmael alone with the Arl.

"I'm glad you've finally arrived, Inquisitor. King Alistair is anxious for news concerning this matter." Arl Teagan stated.

"And what is your stance on this matter?"

"The Breach is closed, Corypheus is dead, yet Skyhold's army remains. Ferelden can no longer ignore foreign soldier on its borders." Teagan answered staunchly.

"Well, at least you're honest about it. Glad there are actually politicians who speak plainly."

"You are owed that, Inquisitor, especially after all that you've done." Teagan assured. "These Orlesians will speak empty platitudes and false courtesies while trying to reign a noose around your neck. I shall not keep you longer. We will exchange plenty of words when the Exalted Council begins."

**~XoXoXo~**

Instead of giving sermons or making prayers, like some would expect the Divine to, she was instead talking and laughing with her friends. Leliana was overjoyed to see her old companions and coworkers again.

"Oh, Josie, it's so wonderful to see you again!" Leliana laughed as she hugged her friend close.

"It has been too long, Your Perfection." Josephine said happily.

"Please, Josie, there's no need for formalities between friends." The Divine insisted. "Oh! We simply must shop at the Avenue of Flowers before we leave. There are these most beautiful shoes on display, and I would love for us to buy a pair for us to remember."

"I shall place it high on my schedule." Josephine promised, jotting it down on her clipboard. "Perhaps we could see an opera while we're at it."

"Cullen, how is your family?" Leliana asked.

"I'm an uncle now, my brother Branson had a son. My sister Mia is now teaching him to beat me at chess." Cullen said proudly.

"I'll be sure to send her a few strategies. I know you weaknesses now, Commander." Leliana joked.

"Come, now. Teaching a toddler how to cheat is hardly befitting the Divine, Most Holy." Cullen remarked.

Cassandra lowered her head to the Divine respectfully. "It is good to see you again, Most Holy."

"Come now, Cassandra. We've been through so much together, there is no need for formality between us." The Divine insisted.

"Well, it's good to see us all together again after so long. Perhaps not the most ideal of circumstances, but at least there's no giant hole in the sky." Rajmael greeted, genuinely happy at this little reunion of theirs.

"Take your blessings where you can, Inquisitor. There's always a silver lining." Leliana greeted happily. "And speaking of reunions, there's an old, very good friend of mine I would like you to finally meet. Wait here a moment." Leliana walked away from them over to the Fereldan delegation.

For a moment, Rajmael was worried she might be bringing back Arl Teagan. Instead, she brought back someone else entirely. A tall, powerfully built man with a mane of dark hair held back in a knot. He wore black Fereldan-style armor with hound motifs engraved on it. Most distinguishing of all were the blue tattoos on his face. While Leliana was smiling brightly, everyone else stood in utter shock and awe at the man's presence. Rajmael recognized the man immediately.

"Holy shit. Aedan Cousland, the Hero of Ferelden." Rajmael said with his jaw almost hitting the floor. Rajmael could scarcely believe his own eyes, seeing this man standing before. Only this was no spirit posing as the Hero, nor was it some alternate version of him from a distorted timeline. This was the genuine article, in the flesh and blood. The real Aedan Cousland.

"Imagine my surprise when I learned Aedan was coming here." Leliana said cheerfully. "I've been so busy with my duties as Divine I hadn't even realized that you had returned!"

"Imagine _our_ surprise seeing him now." Cassandra commented, her face just as blank and shocked as the others.

There was a brief moment of absolute silence, like everything in the world was put on hiatus as all of them stared at who was probably the most famous of all living legends standing before them. How could they not take a moment to fully come to terms with such an event?

"Are any of you going to say something, or just continue to stand there with a stupid look on your collective faces?" Aedan asked, quirking his eyebrow at their shocked expressions.

Josephine quickly tried to regain her composure, embarrassed by her own manners. "Oh, do please forgive our rudeness, Lord Cousland. It's just that we never expected such a...distinguished figure to be attending these matters."

"It's General Cousland, actually. And if I'm a distinguished figure here, then what does that make Divine Victoria?" Aedan grinned at his old companion. "You look familiar Ambassador. Is it possible we have met?"

"I do not see how that's possible, Lord-General Cousland. I have spent little time in Ferelden, I'm afraid." Josephine answered, rather flustered.

"No, I'm sure of it. Did you attend the University of Val Royeaux?" Aedan inquired.

"Yes! I began attendance there back in, oh, what was it? 9:27, I think." Josephine recalled.

"Aw, yes, that's it. You were in Professor Kantrell's class of Culture and Politics of Thedas, if I remember correctly." Aedan stated, the memory coming back to him. "You would have arrived just as I was being expelled from the University."

"I recall someone being expelled from the University that your for a rather, ahem, violent act, but I never would have guessed it was you." Josephine realized. "Tell me, General, what were you studying at the University? Were you there to study war with the Chevaliers?"

"Ha! As if those cheese-mongering horse-humpers could teach _me_ anything about war!" Aedan laughed. "No, no. Believe it or not, I was actually there to study art."

"We've met before as well, General Cousland. Twice in fact." Cullen stated respectfully.

"Really? I don't recall." Aedan said with honest indifference.

"I was the Templar that was imprisoned by Uldred in Kinloch Hold?" Cullen reminded, but Aedan's face was still drawing a blank. "We met again when in Kirkwall when you went there to bring our countrymen home? You were going to split my skull in half when you attacked the Gallows? None of that rings a bell?"

"All Templars look the same to me, and mean even less to me. You'll have to forgive me if I never cared to remember you." Aedan stated blithely.

"Aedan, please. You promised me that you'd show some civility before the Exalted Council begins." Leliana reminded. The last thing she wanted was bad feelings between those she considered her friends.

Aedan rolled his eyes in slight annoyance. Then his eyes caught hold of the very reason this Exalted Council was gathered. The reason why he was here, in an empire he hated, instead of back in his own country. The Inquisitor.

"So...this is Inquisitor Lavellan." Aedan observed as if he sizing the elf up like a lamb for the slaughter as he walked up to him. "The great hero who sealed the Breach and has the gall to keep an armed presence in Ferelden. The so-called _Herald of Andraste_."

Rajmael readied himself for anything. Aedan Cousland's anger was legendary, and so was his hatred for anything that might threaten his country, and especially anything to do with Andraste or the Maker. And he always dealt with the things he hated with violence. At best, Rajmael was expecting to hear some vulgar insults and death threats, and at worst, he was expecting the Hero to try and knock his head off. What happened next caught, Rajmael could never have anticipated and caught him completely off guard. Everyone was shocked senseless, even Everyone was shocked Leliana could scarcely believe her eyes.

Aedan Cousland, the most defiant and violent of all Ferelden's warlords, who spat on an authority other than his king's, bowed to the Inquisitor in deepest respect.

"I am honored to finally meet you, Lord Inquisitor." Aedan spoke with the utmost respect.

Rajmael returned the gesture, and bowed to the Fereldan warrior. "The honor is mine, General Cousland."

"Thank you for what you did for my country. And my son." Aedan said with deepest gratitude, rising from his bow.

"You are welcome."

Everyone stood in utter silence, unable to believe their eyes. Even the Breach was less of a shock than this. As they all stood there, trying to come to terms with what just happened, a certain Antivan elf walked up to them, accompanied by several other people. Another elf, a human and a dwarf. The elf was a young woman with auburn hair in light leather armor with a well-crafted bow on her back. The human was a young man, just a little older than the elf, and had a green elven-styled blade hanging from his hip. The dwarven lad was by far the youngest of them. He hadn't even grown a beard yet, but was old enough to carry a sword and shield.

"Ah, Leliana my dear, did I, uh, did I miss something here?' The elf asked, wondering why everyone looked so bewildered.

"You wouldn't believe me, even if I told you, Zeveran." Leliana answered, still in shock.

"Ah. Zevran. Where've you been?" Aedan asked his Antivan comrade. "You just disappeared."

Zevran smiled lecherously. "You remember that musclebound Qunari you beat at arm-wrestling? Well, I caught up with him and that charming ambassador from Tevinter, and the three of us found this rather cozy spot behind the flower bed and we..."

"Ugh! Please, stop! Just stop!" Aedan shouted at the Antivan assassin. "I have enough psychological issues as it is without having to know what deviancy you do when people aren't looking."

"Oh, yes, you are correct, my friend, and for me to such things in such lovely company is appalling." Zevran languished sarcastically. "O Most Holy, would you here my confessions and absolve my worldly sins? There are just so many things I have done, perhaps it would be best to hear them in private. Away from everyone else. Just you and me?"

"Just who do you think you're talking to, Antivan?!" Cassandra asked, outraged at the elf's audacity. "This is the Divine not some tavern girl you can blatantly flirt with!"

"It's alright, Cassandra." Leliana laughed. "I actually find it refreshing that there are those who would still look at me that way, instead of only seeing this miter I'm wearing. Just it's never going to happen, Zevran."

"Oh. Just seeing you those robes of purity, far beyond the reach of common women, never able to have you...it just makes me want you even more." Zevran continued flirtatiously.

"What's an Antivan Crow doing here in the first place?" Cullen asked curiously.

"Why, by the invitation of my dear friend Aedan, of course." Zevran answered gregariously. "Such a grand party with so many lovely people, how could he not invite one of his oldest friends?"

"And the fact that I don't trust Orlesians, their agenda, and the fact that they are always trying to assassinate anyone who opposes them by bard or by poison, was another reason." Aedan stated factually. "Having a former Antivan Crow as a friend certainly has its benefits."

"It's true. I told all those years ago that I would be wonderful at parties." Zevran reminded, fondly remembering the good old days.

"And who are these others that you have brought with you?" Leliana asked curiously, looking at the others Aedan brought with him.

"They're with me." Aedan stated. "My former squires. This is Beven, Arl Teagan's brother-in-law, now serving as his bodyguard and knight of Redcliffe."

"It's a t-tremendous honor to meet you. Both of you, Lord Inquisitor, Most Holy." Beven stuttered, trying to keep his cool in front of such exalted figures.

"This is Amethyne, knight in service to Bann Shianni of the Denerim Alienage."

"Really? I've...never met an elven knight before." Rajmael said with a curious eyebrow raised.

"Well, I've never met an elven Inquisitor before. I guess our people really are starting to move up in the world." Amethyne smiled proudly.

"And this is Aedan Kondrat, my current squire." Aedan introduced the final one.

"Oh, my! You're Oghren's son? Oh, but you're adorable!" Leliana stated giddily, and couldn't resist the urge to pinch his cheek, making his comrades laugh beneath their breaths.

"Oh, thanks. I'm so glad I came here now, and that my father's not here to witness this momentous occasion." The dwarven Aedan said embarrassed.

"I'm glad you papa's not here, too. There'd be no alcohol left for anyone else." Zevran commented.

"When last I heard of you, General Cousland, I heard that you were seeking a cure for the Blight." Rajmael recalled. This was the very reason why he wasn't present during the War of The Elder One. During that time, they could have really used someone like Aedan. "Did you...find what you sought?"

"Yes, I did." Aedan said solemnly.

"Really? How did you do it?" Josephine asked curiously.

"I'm afraid that information is privileged." Aedan answered evasively. "No offense, but I do not really know any of you, and, while I may no longer be a Warden, I still respect their duty and their secrets."

"Perhaps you might answer me this, General: What is your stance on the Exalted Council?" Rajmael asked, deeply curious and somewhat worried about this inquiry.

"I'll be honest with you, Inquisitor." Aedan stated seriously. "I have the utmost respect for you and what you have accomplished. I think you're a great leader and a shining example for your people. I owe you a tremendous debt for what you did for my family. However, when we get into the Council Chamber, I'm going to fucking crucify you in front of all those people."

Rajmael was afraid the Hero might say something like that, and had no doubt he was going to follow through it. "Well, now I'm glad I asked."

"It's nothing personal, Inquisitor, it really isn't. I am merely doing what I think is best for my country." Aedan explained honestly. "Your military, your resources, they owe no allegiance to any nation, and they are completely devoted to the cause of the Inquisition and to its leader. You of all people, as elf, should understand my concern when a powerful institution wields so much unbound authority."

Rajmael did understand what Aedan was getting at. After all, it was the same scenario with the Chantry when they called an Exalted March on the Dales.

"If I might also give my own advice on this matter, Inquisitor." Aedan suggested. "I am led to believe that you have a family as well. Go back to them. You have done great things for your people, and I have no doubt your loyalty to them is beyond reproach. Go back to them, lead them, and leave this Inquisition behind."

"And what about the rest of the world?" Rajmael asked.

"Fuck the rest of the world." Aedan rebutted sternly. "You think I joined the Wardens because I cared about Orlais, the Free Marches? No. I only joined to protect my homeland. The rest of the world can burn, for all I care. What has this world ever done for you and your people to deserve your undying loyalty? Go back to your people and your family, and be the leader they need. Thedas never appreciates its heroes for long."

Aedan nodded his head respectfully to the Inquisitor and left with the rest of his comrades. As soon as he was gone, the Divine walked up to the Inquisitor earnestly.

"Would you walk with me?" Leliana beckoned.

Rajmael obliged her and the two walked towards the grand entrance of the Winter Palace. Leliana gazed at the marvelous architecture of the Palace. Not in awe, but more like remembering.

"When I first came to the Winter Palace, I were just eighteen." Leliana remembered with a small smile on her face. "I was mesmerized by it all! The rich hangings. Pillars of splendid marble. More golden lions than I could count. It's all still here, but I no longer see that same palace of my youth."

"All things change, and nothing is ever as beautiful or flawless as we want it to be. I've learned that the hard way." Rajmael agreed, remembering how his own long held beliefs had been shaken.

"You're correct, Inquisitor. Now all I see is hands rubbed raw to make gold gleam, tears shed in the night of silk embroidery." Leliana said lamentingly. "Others overlook them and forget their pain, but I am Divine, and I cannot be blind." Leliana looked over to the delegations that had come to oppose them. "Aedan was right, you know. The world never appreciates its heroes for long, and there will always be those who fear them. But nothing worse than the hand that guides it all."

"Mine." Rajmael confirmed, looking at his hand that bore the Anchor

"Yes." Leliana acknowledged. "Already your actions have begun to reshape the world. And many people fear such change if it happens so quickly and so much. It was only a matter time before they moved. I'm surprised that it took them this long."

"For Ferelden and Orlais to find something they distrust more than each other, that's a feat all on its own." Rajmael chuckled.

"It is something that cannot be overlooked, and perhaps they are right. Perhaps the Inquisition's time is coming to end." Leliana finally said.

"Is that the mandate of Divine Victoria I? That the Inquisition should be disbanded?"

"Pragmatic advice from your friend and former Spymaster." Leliana assured. "As Divine, it is my duty to think of Thedas, and all her peoples. We set out to restore peace, and now peace is upon us. While I wouldn't have said it the same way as Aedan did, he did have a point. You have done so much for this world already; you became the leader and hero we needed, even though you never wanted to be, and you have every right to want to resign and go home, if that's what you wish. Or even spend more time with Cassandra, I know how much she misses you. You've more than earned the right to a peaceful life."

Rajmael didn't know whether or not Leliana still had agents watching him, or if she just knew him that well. It seemed like everyone was giving him the same advice, and for once, he was inclined to listen.

"After everything I've been through, all the horror and hardship I've seen, the blood I've spilt...I think I'm done. I am ready to finally go home." Rajmael said with deepest desire. "However, I also owe it to the men and women who serve under me, who have died under my command, to fight for the Inquisition they gave their lives for, that they believed in. I won't just roll over and tuck my tail because human lords demand that I do. That is not who I am."

"I would expect nothing less of you, Inquisitor." Leliana smiled proudly. "Know that I will be honored to stand by you, no matter which decision you make."

"Well, then, Divine Victoria, let's not keep the people waiting any longer. I'm sure they're eager to finally get this party started. Shall we oblige them?"

"Lead the way, Lord Inquisitor."

**Author's Note:**

**Alright, so here it is! The final arc in the Rajmael of Clan Lavellan story. **

**This will probably be the longest arc I've ever done. So expect the unexpected and some more cameo appearances.**

**I will try to post more chapters every few weeks, instead of a couple of months apart.**

**I've been planning this arc out for months, so I am going to bring all my abilities to bear on this one.**

**Please read, review and enjoy.**


	44. Through the Eluvian

**~Through the Eluvian~**

Divine Victoria, General Cousland, and Arl Teagan made their way to the Council Chamber to take their respective seats at the debate table. Teagan's main focus was on the matter of the Inquisition, but at the same time, he couldn't help but be amazed with the two people who were walking beside him. Ten years ago, when he was standing in that Chantry back in Redcliffe trying to protect the village from a horde of undead, he never would have imagined that three of those people who came to their aid would be where they are now. Alistair, the young lad everyone wanted to forget, had been King of Ferelden for over a decade now, a fact that still sometimes surprised Teagan. Never in a thousand years could Teagan have predicted that that young redheaded bard from Orlais who prayed with the children of Redcliffe in that Chantry would now sit on the Sunburst Throne. Even now, Teagan had difficulty looking at the Divine and not seeing that young woman in those robes. The only one who was not much of a surprise, was Aedan. The Couslands had always been a formidable family, and Bryce and Eleanor raised their sons to carry on that tradition. Even before the Blight, Aedan had cemented a fearsome reputation as a warrior, and despite all the tragedy and loss he suffered during the Blight, it helped him fulfill his potential as Ferelden's greatest protector. Now the three of them would sit at the same table to decide the fate of the Inquisition, an institute that very well saved the entire world. The Maker certainly moved in mysterious ways.

Now they had to begin with the most painful process to start this whole affair: the longwinded introductions by an Orlesian herald.

The trumpeters blew their fanfare trumpets to announce the arrival of those important enough to be introduced in these proceedings. It was so loud that it was a shock that the trumpeters themselves weren't already deaf. The herald held out his scroll, took a deep breath into his lungs and began the introductions.

"Let all attending gather now! The Council Members have arrived!" The herald declared. "Presenting Her Perfection, the Most Holy Divine Victoria I, beloved leader of the Chantry, and the voice of Andraste on Thedas!"

Every soul in the meeting chamber rose to their feet and bowed reverently, humbled to be in the presence of the greatest living figure of their faith, as she made her way to her seat with all the grace and beauty of her station.

"Duke Cyril de Montfort! Head of House de Montfort. Master of Chateau Haine, leading member of the Council of Heralds, and representative of Orlais."

Many of the Orlesians raised their glasses to Duke Cyril while the Chevaliers saluted him. Cyril took notice of the attention he was being given and waved to his fellow countrymen, causing the Orlesian ladies to giggle behind their fans.

"Arl Teagan Guerrin, the Arl of Redcliffe. Brother to Eamon Guerrin and uncle of King Alistair. Representing Ferelden."

The Arl said nothing, and paid no attention to the amused whispers of the Orlesians.. He quickly made his way to his seat, ready to finally get this matter settled.

"And presenting, ahem, Lord Aedan Cousland, the Hero of Ferelden!" The entire chamber became as still and silent as a crypt at the mention of that name. "General of the Fereldan Armies, former Warden-Commander of The Grey in Ferelden, and former Arl of Amaranthine. Brother to Teyrn Fergus Cousland of Highever, founder of the Knights of the Silver Order. Honorary member of the Legion of the Dead, ranking member of..."

_**"GET ON WITH IT!" **_Aedan yelled, deeply annoyed by this prattle.

"...Head of Ferelden's security on the Council."

Aedan rolled his eyes at the Orlesian herald and made his way to his seat at the table. Not a soul moved as he walked, as if afraid that being noticed by him would cause offense. All these people had heard the stories of his cruelty, and dared not provoke him. Only the soldiers of Ferelden showed him respect.

"And representing the Inquisition...Lady Josephine Cherette Montilyet of Antiva City. Head of House Montilyet, and Ambassador of the Inquisition."

Josephine bowed with respect to the Exalted Council. Every man watched her graceful poise and beauty as she walked, while most of the women looked at her with envy for all the power and influence she wielded, as well as her beauty.

"And Lord Inquisitor Rajmael Lavellan, leader of the Inquisition. First of Clan Lavellan, Comte of Kirkwall. Savior and Protector of the Southern Mages. Dragonsbane, and Herald of Andraste."

All eyes turned to the elven Inquisitor as he entered, some showing even more respect than they did even the Divine. As he made his way to his seat next to Josephine, lords, ladies, and even Chevaliers of all people, bowed in respect to him, whispering words of gratitude and reverence. It was still something Rajmael was unused to, even after being Inquisitor for two years.

With that final threshold crossed, and the Orlesian herald finally going away, it was time to begin the Exalted Council.

**~XoXoXo~**

It didn't take long for the Council members to just start ripping into the Inquisitor with reasons for their demands. Duke Cyril insisting that the Inquisition's accomplishments and influence are not something to be lightly discarded, while Arl Teagan argued that so much power should not belong to any one nation or institution. All the while Divine Victoria had to keep reminding the Orlesian and Fereldan parties that this was a Council, not a trial, and that the Inquisition had a right to defend its cause.

"Thank you, Your Holiness." Josephine spoke, rising from her seat to present the Council. "Now, Arl Teagan, as to your concerns..."

"Are greatly validated!" Teagan interrupted fervently. "The Inquisition established in armed presence in the very center of Ferelden territory. You outright seized Caer Bronach in Crestwood!"

Rajmael remained calm, remembering quite vividly how those event happened. As if to show his contempt for the Exalted Council and their demands, he casually took his sylvanwood pipe and began smoking right in the middle of the meeting.

"I can see why this has you upset, Arl Teagan. Did we seize Caer Bronach and house our soldiers in it? Yes, yes we did. After we liberated it from the bandits who were plaguing Crestwood and banished the demons. We established our soldiers there because you weren't there to protect your own people!"

"Your efforts were appreciated two years ago, Inquisitor. They are still appreciated it. But now order has been restored, yet your soldiers remain in Ferelden." Teagan debated. "Invading under the pretext of restoring order is exactly what the Grey Wardens did to us centuries ago, and we exiled them! Now the Inquisition is doing the same thing with Grey Wardens in their ranks!"

"Your logic is ill-founded, Arl Teagan." Duke Cyril asserted haughtily. "The Grey Wardens have proved themselves heroes, time and time again. I have no doubt that the Inquisition will prove to be the same."

"Of course Orlais tolerates this interference. The Inquisition is the only reason why Celene remains on her throne." Teagan balked. "The Inquisition uses its status as heroes in Orlais to justify their continued presence and military power."

"Considering your country's last national hero was a regicidal traitor and slaver and your current national hero is a warmongering cannibal, I find your argument about the follies of heroes almost laughable, Arl Teagan." Rajmael rebutted, contemptuously exhaling smoke from between his teeth.

A wave of _'oohs'_ and shocked gasps spread throughout the chamber at the Inquisitor's bold words. Josephine face-planted herself as Arl Teagan glared his outrage at the Inquisitor, neither of them could believe he'd have the gall to say that aloud. Aedan remained in his seat, just as surprised as Teagan at the Inquisitor's audacity.

"Oh. And he hits below the belt. Nice." Aedan commented, rather impressed.

"That is precisely our concern." Teagan asserted. "We in Ferelden know the dangers that so-called heroes pose, especially when they try to use their accumulated power and influence to assert their own agenda."

"Rest assured, Teagan, the Empire of Orlais will not stand idly by if the Inquisition oversteps its bounds." Duke Cyril continued unfettered. "Unlike Ferelden, however, Orlais understands that these were the well intended mistakes of a young organization in the heat of turbulent times. An organization in need of a guiding hand."

"And by _'guiding hand'_, you mean your own, no doubt." Teagan huffed.

"The Inquisition has no need for a guiding hand!" Rajmael finally argued back. "It was founded to do what was needed without the political machinations of other kingdoms to prevent us from doing what was necessary. By trying to tether our organization to single kingdom, you leash to that kingdoms agenda, and those agendas are always self-serving. The Inquisition exists to protect all."

"Such impassioned words, Inquisitor. I'm almost touched, but not really." Aedan finally spoke out, his voice sounding like the growl of a hungry animal. Everyone went silent again as spoke. "Maintaining order, defending the people...all so noble, and all so false. Noble intentions that mask darker agendas have been used repeatedly throughout history to steal the rights and freedoms other people. Take Mayor Gregory Dedrick of Crestwood, for example..."

"The Inquisitor's judgment over Mayor Dedrick was authorized by King Alistair." Josephine reminded fervently, rising from her seat. "More so than that, his judgment was just and fair. Sending Dedrick to the Wardens was the most amicable way to punish and redeem his crimes against the people of Crestwood."

"And so it was. That was an entirely legal matter, and a sign of wise leadership from both parties." Aedan agreed, surprising Josephine and Rajmael equally. "But what I want to know, is who the fuck gave you authority to conscript Lord Harmond's support for the Inquisition? The way he tells it, the Inquisitor and his Red Jenny friend threatened to _'liquefy his brains in his skull and watch it ooze out of his ears'_, if he didn't further the Inquisition's interests in Verchiel."

Josephine was stunned into silence, and quickly tried to think up an argument against that legally reprehensible act on their part. Rajmael couldn't help but curse himself inside. Somehow he always knew that helping Sera would come back to bite him in the ass. He just didn't realize that it would Aedan Cousland who would be doing the biting. He was just glad he didn't let Sera kill the bastard, or else he'd be in real trouble.

"General Cousland, you must understand that we were trying to restore order. Harmond's actions in Verchiel were self-serving and destructive to the people of the town." Josephine insisted. "What the Inquisitor did was to maintain peace."

"A very sorry excuse, Ambassador, and you know it." Aedan rejected grimly. "I know Harmond is a sniveling putz, and that what he was doing was inexcusable, but that is Ferelden's problem! You had no right to impose your authority on a Fereldan lord to further your own interests! What's next? Do you plan to use the people's love and faith in this false Herald of Andraste to wage war on anyone who doesn't maintain order? As an elf, Inquisitor, you of all people, should know the dangers that a single entity based on faith and devotion poses, given what the Chantry did to your people. How long before _you_ start calling an Exalted March to keep order?"

Shocked words were whispered throughout the gathered crowd as people agreed and argued the Hero's words amongst themselves. Leliana gave Aedan an angry look, which Aedan flippantly ignored. What he said was very insensitive, but undeniably true.

That last question stung Rajmael deeply through his whole being. Aedan all but called him a hypocrite, and dared to compare him and the Inquisition to the people who destroyed the Dalish kingdom. Everything he heard about that man was: Aedan Cousland was one mean bastard.

Then Rajmael felt another terrible sting. A terrible pain erupted in Rajmael's left palm where the Anchor was marked. Like something woke and bit him right on the hand. It was everything he could do not to make a sound right in the middle of the Council. Josephine noticed his efforts to hide his pain, and grew deeply concerned.

"Beg pardon, Lord Inquisitor." A strange voice whispered. It was a young elven scout who Rajmael did not recognize. She had dirty blonde hair and freckles on her face, but was otherwise unnoticeable. "I'm sorry, but the Divine has urgent news she wishes to speak with you, in private."

"If she wishes to speak, the Divine is right there." Rajmael stated, remarking on the scouts odd request.

"Yes. But she was once your Spymaster, and knows when things should be spoken in public and in private." The elven scout insisted. "It's a very pressing matter."

Rajmael looked over to the Divine and saw her urging him with her eyes, and took the hint. "I must apologize, but an urgent matter has been brought to my attention. Would you please excuse me for a moment? Josephine, I need you to handle the Council in my stead."

"Pardon me, Inquisitor?" Josephine asked incredulously as the Inquisitor got up and walked away.

"This is highly irregular!" Duke Cyril remarked as the Inquisitor unceremoniously walked out of the Council Chamber.

"Perhaps it would be best if we all take a recess." The Divine suggested. At her word, everyone decided to clear out and discuss what just transpired.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael made his way to one of the storage buildings in the Winter Palace's garden. Divine Victoria's bodyguards had warded off the area, letting no one in, even as they gathered around to see just what was going on. What was so important that made the Inquisitor have the insolence to just walk out on the Exalted Council? Rajmael could hear them whispering about his audacity, how it gave credence to Orlais and Ferelden's arguments. At the moment, Rajmael really didn't care for their concerns and gossip. He was more concerned about what was so important the Divine had to pull him out of the Council Chamber.

"Was it wise to simply just dump the Exalted Council on Josephine like that?" Rajmael asked the Divine.

"She can handle them, believe me." Leliana assured. "It's mostly just posturing and speeches for the first few days anyway. Follow me."

Rajmael followed the Divine into the storage building, where the gardeners kept their tools, he almost thought his eye sight was failing him. Divine Victoria was standing over the body of a Qunari warrior, and it wasn't Iron Bull.

"Leliana, please tell me my eyes are starting fail or that Iron Bull is dead drunk at your feet after a makeover, and that there's not a dead Qunari soldier at you feet." Rajmael beseeched sarcastically.

"Unfortunately Inquisitor, your eyesight is perfectly fine, and Iron Bull is relatively sober. There is an actual dead Qunari warrior at my feet, dressed in full armor no less." Leliana answered calmly. The former bard and Spymaster examined the warrior's body, looking for clues and details about how he ended up here. He was lying in a pool of his own blood that trailed out the door, and from the looks of him, he hadn't been dead very long. "How very odd, this man is obviously a soldier, not a spy. Part of the Antaam."

"Yeah, that's pretty plain to see." Spoke the deep voice of the Iron Bull. "Spies don't usually go around prancing in full armor, unless that's part of their cover, like me. This guy was a karashock, a foot-soldier, outfitted for a full-on fight. From the looks of him, he got more than he was expecting."

"Looks like he was in battle against magic, judging from the burns on his armor, and the ambient energy radiating off him." Rajmael observed, sensing the lingering magical effects. "Looks like he was also cut up by some blades and arrows. This guy was in some intense fighting."

"Sounds like Tuesday back in Seheron." Iron Bull commented.

"Yeah, except one big problem: Seheron is on the other side of Thedas! How the fuck did he end up dead in shed in the middle of the Winter Palace?!" Rajmael asked confounded.

"Yeah, and the other problem is the fact that members of the Antaam never work alone. Where there's one, there's always more." Iron Bull pointed out. "And it seems like they're out for a fight."

Lieutenant Krem walked through the door with a very nervous look on his face. "Um, Chief? Your Holinesses? You've got a problem out here."

"We have a really big problem in here, Krem." Iron Bull stated.

"Yeah, and you're about to have another one in just a moment, Chief. It's about 6'4", two-hundred and twenty pounds of pure mean with tattoos on his face."

"Aw, crap." Rajmael uttered, realizing what Krem was talking about.

Aedan and Zevran were made their way towards the storage shed that was housing the dead qunari, shoving their way through the crowd as they went. Aedan looked like he wanted something, and he was going to get it. One of the Divine's guards stood in his path, refusing to allow the Fereldan General to pass.

"On the divine will of Her Most Holy, none are permitted past this point." The guard stated staunchly.

Aedan didn't even bother to take notice of the Chantry guard, and shoved him out of his way, like the armored man weighed little more than a leaf. The other guards advanced on the Fereldan hero, ready to stop him from coming any further, and avenge their comrade's dignity, if needs be.

"That's enough! Let him pass." The Divine ordered as she and the Inquisitor stepped out to greet Aedan. The Chantry guards obediently took their hands away from their weapons and allowed Aedan and Zevran to approach the Divine. "Aedan, Zevran. What is this meaning of this?"

"Don't look at me, I'm just following _him_." Zevran insisted.

"Why don't you tell me what's going on, Leliana?" Aedan responded gruffly. "You're making it painfully obvious that you're trying to hide something, which is so unlike you, and it also means that something so unexpected has happened that you're willing to make the Inquisitor look like an asshole in front of the Exalted Council."

"I'm sorry, my dear, but that was very sloppy and unprofessional." Zevran commented disappointedly. "Honestly, I expected much better from you."

And I saw that look you gave the Inquisitor. That subtle look in the eye you give when you're trying to tell someone of a life-and-death situation. You used to give it to me, too."

"You know me all too well, Aedan, that's for certain." Leliana chuckled. There was no getting around this or denying what Aedan had said, but she couldn't let him get involved. "I'm sorry, Aedan, but this is a private matter, and it is being handled. Please, let the Inquisitor and I do our duty."

Aedan looked at Leliana with a deathly serious look in the eye, refusing to let this matter go. "I do not like secrets, Leliana. At all. And I sure as shit am not going to turn a blind eye when potentially dangerous matters are occurring right behind my back. Now, as the representative of the Chantry on this Council, you are supposed to be a neutral party, and therefore have no jurisdiction over me. I, on the other hand, as head of the Fereldan delgation's security, can demand answers from you and the Inquisitor, and you'd be obligated to give them."

This was a grave matter. Everything Aedan said was completely true, and they were being backed into a corner. Leliana was being given little choice.

"But I don't want to do that." Aedan admitted, surprising the Divine and Inquisitor. "I would rather that you trust me enough to tell me what is going on. So, I'm asking in the name of our friendship to tell me what the fuck is going on?"

This was most unexpected to Rajmael. Given everything he had seen and heard of the Hero of Ferelden, he was surprised the man didn't just force his way past them to get the answers he wanted. Unfortunately, Rajmael wasn't one to just hand anything over to anyone, especially human nobles.

"Before we tell you anything, there's a couple things I want to point out, and conditions to be met." Rajmael stated.

"Conditions?"

"Yes. First of all, while you may be in charge of Fereldan security here, you have no legal jurisdiction here in Orlais, where my authority is still recognized until this summit is over. So you really can't demand shit of me, and all you can really do about it is go crying back to Arl Teagan." Rajmael stated staunchly as fact. "So, if I'm to let you in on the matter of the Inquisition, you must give me your assurance that anything you see will remain secret, and will have no bearing with you in the Exalted Council."

Aedan's eye twitched in annoyance with the elf. "You mean to make demands of _me_, Inquisitor?"

"You're damned right I'm making demands of you, and they are demands you will honor. Or, I can just make this quick and hand the power of the Inquisitor to Orlais, and we can all be done with this. And somehow, I don't think you want the Orlesians to have the power the Inquisition wields." Rajmael asserted defiantly.

Aedan loomed over the Dalish elf with that dangerous look in his eyes, and Rajmael felt for certain the human would attempt to attack. Zevran took a step back to avoid the mess that was going to be made. Instead, the Hero only smiled at the Inquisitor sinisterly.

"Well, I'll give you this much, Inquisitor: you've got a pair of brass on you that should be ringing in a Chantry bell tower." Aedan laughed, thoroughly impressed with the Inquisitor's gall.

"Oh, well, that's flattering." Rajmael sighed with relief. "So, we have an accord, then?"

"Yes, we have an accord." Aedan agreed. "However, you must also understand, that while I anything I see that will have no bearing in the Exalted Council, that also means that I will ignore anything that can give the Inquisition credence."

"We managed to destroy Corpheus and save the world without your aid, I think the Inquisition can manage a little longer without your assistance." Rajmael affirmed confidently. "Now, swear it, and make sure it's a promise I can believe."

Aedan raised his right hand to swear his oath. "I swear, on the memory of my father and mother, Bryce and Eleanor Cousland, nothing I see or learn here will have any bearing on my position on the Exalted Council. And I swear upon the soul of my son, Kieran, that anything I see will remain a secret."

Rajmael and Aedan may have been from completely different walks of life, different races even, but they were also both warriors. And Rajmael knew the value of a warrior's word, and believed the Hero's vow. "Alright, General Cousland. I'm sure you're used to seeing bizarre things, but tell me if this is something new."

Iron Bull made room as Aedan walked into the storage building and was actually quite unmoved by what he found in there. If anything, he didn't seem surprised at all. "Well, well, ain't this a surprise. The fuck's a karashok soldier doing this far south? And why is it alone?"

"You know what this guy's rank just by looking at 'em?" Iron Bull observed, rather surprised.

"I study all potential threats to my country, and the qunari have already offended me once before." Aedan answered grimly. He made his own observations of the dead man's wounds in silence. "With wounds like these, he couldn't have gone far. Wherever he must have fought must be nearby. And look, there's a trail of blood."

"Let's follow it and see what we can find." Rajmael spoke.

Aedan and Zevran followed after Rajmael. All three of them were capable trackers and picked up on the blood trail quickly. They made their way through the back passes of the garden where the qunari soldier had crawled through. The trail ended and at a lattice garden wall, but there was a blood smeared on it that led up to the unused apartments above. The qunari must have fallen from the upper floors and landed in the garden. The three of them climbed the lattice walls to the apartments, which looked like they hadn't seen use, or even been dusted, in years. If anything, it looked like an elaborate storage closet. Old furniture, dusty drapes, and about million cobwebs.

The only evidence of the qunari's presence in this room was the staggered foot prints that disturbed all the dust on the ground, and the drops of blood that led behind the nearby door. Rajmael opened the door, and was once again forced to question the stability of his own eyesight and sanity. Behind the door was a massive mirror framed in ancient elven design, it's glass shimmering with ethereal beauty, and powerful magical energies emanating from it. There was an eluvian right in the middle of the Winter Palace.

"My, oh my. What is this?" Zevran asked, not knowing what they were looking at.

"This is..."

"An eluvian." Aedan interrupted, surprising Rajmael immensely. "An ancient elven artifact used by the your ancestors to pass through the world like a magical doorway. These passages led to other places in Thedas, the Fade, and all points in between."

"How...how could you know this?" Rajmael asked, astonished at the Fereldan General's acute knowledge.

"Aside from the fact that Lady Morrigan, with whom I know you're acquainted, is my wife, I have seen and learned many magnificent things in my travels." Aedan answered cryptically. "Zevran, your ancestors once used mirrors like this to rule the entire world."

"Hm. Shame they couldn't save us from your ancestors." Zevran responded blithely, looking at mirror intently. "Still, I suppose a mirror that can take across thousand of miles in the blink of an eye is more useful than simply showing off one's beautiful reflection. And this is how our mysterious Qunari landed in the Winter Palace. Do you suppose it leads to more Qunari? Perhaps even the Qunari homeland? I've always wondered what a whole nation of those musclebound brutes must be like."

"Only one way to find out." Rajmael stated determinedly. "But none of us are going in through there alone, especially if there's more qunari on the other side. Are you two certain you want to come with?"

"But of course! Especially if this mirror _does_ lead to the qunari homeland." Aedan smiled. "I've yet to actually invade another people and put their cities to the torch, and doing that to the qunari would be a dream come true."

"If we're actually going into the unknown through a magical mirror, I'd rather do it standing behind two of the most famous heroes in Thedas." Zevran smiled. "Less chances of me dying if you two are in front of me."

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael alerted Leliana, Cullen and Josephine to the situation, and urged them to handle what they could back here. Josephine and Leliana would continue to keep the nobles and the council at bay, while Cullen got their men ready and would watch the eluvian to make sure nothing else came out of it. This fiasco couldn't have happened at a worse time.

Rajmael gathered his companions, making sure all of them were armed and ready for whatever they might encounter. Zevran was armed with a pair of serpentine daggers meant to carve flesh and pierce through the ribs, and with a healthy coating of poison for good measure. Aedan carried a very brutal looking axe made of high quality dragonbone. The axe head was crescent-shaped to pierce armor and disembowel his enemies. The opposite side of the axehead was a rounded hammerhead meant to crush bones. And on the end of the shaft was a four-bladed spearhead meant to act as a counterbalance, as well as a third weapon. On its own, this weapon was capable of causing great pain, but in the hands of Aedan Cousland, it could do much more.

Everyone shared Rajmael's surprise to learn of not just the dead qunari soldier but also the existence of an eluvian right in the middle of the Winter Palace. Most of them wished they would never have to see such a thing for the rest of their lives. However, they had all learned just how dangerous these artifacts could be during their war against Corypheus, and if the qunari were somehow using them, they had to find out to what end. One by one, with Rajmael at the lead, entered through the magic mirror.

What they found on the other side of that mirror was beyond anything they could have imagined or dreamed. Islands of rock, elven ruins floating in an abyss of unending light with ancient ruins scattered all over them. Above and below them, there was no sky and no pit, just...infinity. Rivers of infinite water falling into the infinite chasm and statues of ancient elves still standing tall, despite the ruin around them. And all around them were even more eluvians. Some active, others inert. It was so alien yet so beautiful. Rajmael could feel the magic of this place surrounding him.

"This is the Crossroads. Morrigan brought me here when she showed me the eluvians." Rajmael recalled.

"Eh. Islands, rocks and ground should be on the ground...the way nature intended. Not floating around in the middle of the sky. We ain't clouds!" Iron Bull grumbled uncomfortably.

"There are ancient temples back in Tevinter that float off the ground. They were made so that the ancient priests could be close to the Old Gods." Dorian commented. "But they had to be enchanted. I think this is how this place is naturally."

"Don't let its appearance fool any of you. This place is in ruins for a reason. Who knows what demons and foul creatures are hiding in the rubble." Vivienne admonished.

"No, this is not a place of demons, it's not even the Fade." Cole spoke out. "We're close to it, but we're also still close to the other world. We're...in the middle."

"Ugh. What happened to the days when wars and battles were simple? Conflicts are supposed to happen on the battlefield, not between realms of reality." Ranier groaned.

Varric didn't share any of the contempt some of his compatriots had. He looked at it with a sense of amazement that only a storyteller could appreciate. "Wow. Even more elven wonders and achievements. Maker, I wish you were here, Daisy."

"We should still be careful. These ancient elven ruins are often home to very powerful and dangerous magicks." Cassandra cautioned. "That Orb, the Anchor, and now these eluvians. We do not know what other creations the ancient elves left behind."

"It's pretty, I guess. In a weird, stretch, broken kind of way." Sera shivered, still nervous around anything elven or outside her comprehension. "There's too many colors, though. Like looking through Serault glass or something."

"You cannot mean to say you dislike this, Miss Sera?" Zevran asked astonished. "This place is magnificent! I've seen Chantries and palaces that cannot compare to this. And all these colors...it adds to its ethereal beauty. Like a canvas with more colors than I realized existed."

"What are you two talking about? What colors?" Varric asked.

"All I see is grey and bits of mist everywhere. No colors of anything like that." Cassandra added.

"This place was created by the elves. Their magic is strong here, and so it reacts differently to elves. Anyone else is an outsider, and therefore this place isn't as accommodating." Aedan theorized logically.

"How would that work?" Sera asked harshly. "Eyes are eyes, or supposed to be! Grr, stupid place!"

"If that were true, than elven eyes wouldn't be able to see in the dark, you twit." Aedan criticized.

"There's something different about this place. Can't any of you feel it?" Rajmael asked, barely able to restrain his excitement.

"Feel what, Rajmael?" Cassandra asked.

"I can feel the magic of this place surrounding me, and inside of me at the same time." Rajmael tried to explain these new sensations the Crossroads was making him feel. "Last time I was here, the Crossroads felt like it was falling apart, dying. Now...now it feels alive. Like something woke it up, and it's full of life again."

"I realize that as a Dalish elf, you probably have a lot of questions right now, and maybe we'll even find the answers you're looking for, but right now, perhaps we should be focused on our objective." Aedan reminded. "Look, over there!"

Aedan pointed to another inactive eluvian, and slumped up against it was another dead qunari wearing the same armor as the first one they found. And like the first one they found, he had wounds from fighting magic, as well as blades carving up his body.

"Same detail as before." Cassandra observed. "Similar rank and injuries as the first qunari. And look there...a trail of blood. We should follow it to see where he came from."

"We should also be concerned about where he was going." Aedan noted. "After he was attacked, he crawled his way over here and slumped up against this particular mirror, but it was inactive. Where does this eluvian lead to?"

"A question for later. For now, let's see where he came from, and what attacked him." Rajmael stated. "Maybe the qunari stumbled on something they shouldn't have."

All of them followed the qunari's blood along the ruined pathway to another magic mirror. This one was active, and Rajmael could feel its magic coursing with life. They would either find their answers or more questions through this mirror.

**~XoXoXo~**

All of them walked through the eluvian and found themselves in some kind of fortress. Bricks and stone, with strong walls that were enough to please any military commander. But these walls were not made by the hands of mankind. The architecture was unmistakably elven. However, this was no building left in ruin, but still standing strong as it did the day it was built.

"These are elven ruins. I don't think we're even in Orlais anymore." Rajmael observed.

"Good. Anywhere's better than Orlais as far as I'm concerned." Aedan commented, actually relieved.

They came upon another slain qunari soldier, laying in a pool of his own still warm blood. There was sunlight at the end of the hall. Rajmael led them outdoors and was in awe at the sight they came upon. A verdant green valley that expanded the entire horizon. Rolling hills, shimmering lakes, and tall trees filled the landscape like a beautiful painting, and dotted all across the valley were other fortresses and towers that overlooked the entire survey.

"What are those towers in the distance?" Dorian asked.

"Watchtowers, probably." Iron Bull answered. "The way their positioned, you could see the whole layout of the land and nothing would escape your notice."

"But what is this place?" Varric asked. "I mean, look at it! This isn't like the first place we stumbled into, it's all picturesque and pristine. If we're not in Thedas, then where the heck are we?"

"We're still somewhere between the Fade and Thedas, like the Crossroads, but its different." Rajmael spoke, looking for an answer himself. "This place feels more stable. Not deteriorating."

Their curiosity was quickly crushed when a massive explosion of green energy erupted at one of the other towers making a clap of thunder echo through the valley.

"The fuck was that?" Aedan wondered.

"Let's go!" Rajmael urged.

Everyone rushed after the Inquisitor who ran to the edge of the tower, where yet another eluvian stood ready for use. However, this time their attention was not on the magic mirror but on the dead qunari surrounding it. Unlike the other ones they found, these soldiers were petrified into stone, standing with their weapons in hand like they were going to attack. They had been turned into statues so quickly they were frozen in battle, with massive scorch marks on the ground where they stood.

"Look at these qunari, these scorch marks. This is the work of a mage." Rajmael observed.

"And an extremely powerful one at that." Dorian added. "I can still feel the heat from the spell on my skin."

"The amount of expended energy is remarkable. I'd say this spell was casted at least within the past hour." Vivienne commented.

"I've seen a lot of battles against magic back in Seheron, but nothing like this." Iron Bull recalled, poking at the qunari turned statues. "The fuck kind of mage can do this to a person?"

"Look at how these soldier are positioned. They look like they were trying to surround someone. This was the work of a single person." Ranier observed.

"Whoever it was, it was some very powerful, someone they weren't expecting. Someone they were afraid of." Aedan stated.

"How can you tell?" Cassandra asked.

"I can taste their fear in the air."

"Ugh. Can you try sounding less creepy?" Sera begged.

"Only if you can try sound less stupid." Aedan rebutted.

"That explosion came from that tower. Maybe this mirror can take us over there?" Cassandra guessed.

Taking Cassandra's advice, they all moved past the petrified qunari corpses and walked through the next eluvian. They arrived at the end of a bridge in the middle of a lake and heard the familiar sounds of battle happening on the other side.

"_Maldecion_! Look at that!" Zevran said astonished, pointing across the bridge.

They could see more qunari engaged in intense combat with what looked like spirits on what looked like an island temple in the middle of the lake. They had to get over there, but the bridge had been submerged beneath the moat. They had to find a way to raise it if they were going to progress any further. There was a podium at the front of the bridge that looked like something was supposed to fit there like a key. It was their only means of moving forward.

There was yet another eluvian. It would seem that traveling through them was their only means of navigating this unknown realm. The eluvian transported them to another tower on one of the mountainsides that looked down on to the island fortress below. It would seem the qunari had already been here, judging from the fire that was still burning and the amount of destruction they left behind. Qunari soldiers rarely ever leave any place they go to untouched. However, just like everywhere else the Inquisitor and his companions came upon here, the qunari laid slain on the ground. There was another active eluvian nearby, but that wasn't what Rajmael and his companions were focused on at the moment. Right now, their attention was drawn to the assassins that killed all these qunari.

Rajmael could now understand why people as formidable as soldiers of the Antaam were found dead all over this place. This place was guarded by a spirits. Not ones that were warped into demons and bound here, but an actual squadron of warrior spirits that took on the form of ancient elven warriors, like the Sentinels in the Temple of Mythal. They were tall and powerful to behold, with a strange sense of serenity surrounding them, and they felt as ancient the place they guarded.

"Aw, shit! Why'd it have to be demons?" Iron Bull groaned.

"Hmph. Spirits, bound here when the when the elves built this place, because that could never go wrong." Vivienne remarked disparagingly.

"No. Not bound to this place, sworn to guard it. They protect it because it is their duty." Cole spoke out. Even though he was no longer a spirit himself, he still had insight into the intention of spirits.

"Whatever they are, they feel old. Extremely old." Dorian observed, sensing the age and power of the spirits.

"Why's every elfy place we go to gotta be filled with creepy things from another world?" Sera complained.

"Well, they're not attacking us. Maybe they're friendly?" Varric wondered hopefully

"I think you can look to these qunari for the answer to that question, Varric." Cassandra rebutted, pointing to the slain, burning corpses of the qunari soldiers surrounding them.

"These aren't like the spirits we fought before." Ranier observed. "They're standing in formation, like they're waiting for something."

"If they're waiting for someone to come relieve them of duty, I give them full points for their dedication." Zevran commented. "I don't think I could ever make such a commitment. Too much like a marriage."

"Maybe they're not attacking because we have elves with us?" Aedan suggested. "If this truly was a place for the elves, maybe they see you as allies."

What Aedan said made a certain kind of sense. It looks like they attacked the qunari on sight, but were now waiting for something from them. Rajmael approached them to see if this might be true, his sword held ready in case it wasn't.

"Atish'all vallem, Fen'heral elathadra." The lead spirit spoke welcomingly in the Elvhen tongue. "Nuvenas mana helanin, dirth bellasa ma."

Sadly, Rajmael could only make out of few words that the spirit spoke. The Dalish knew precious little of their own lost language, and Rajmael was the only one here who could speak any of it, and these words were unknown to him. It said something about welcome to Fen'heral's something, and seeking help, but Rajmael couldn't make out much more.

"Let me see if I can communicate with it." Rajmael intended. "Andaran atish'an setharan. Ir'a vhenallin."

"Virthar ma. Na din'nan sahlin!" The spirit yelled angrily. It conjured a massive war hammer in his hands while its fellow spirits drew bows and arrows and attacked the Inquisitor and his party.

"So much for friendlies!" Varric yelled, firing Bianca at the spirit archers.

The spirit warrior brought his immense hammer down on Rajmael with such impossible speed that it grazed his skin when he barely moved out of its way. For the first time in two years, Rajmael drew the Enasalin. The spirit archers fired a volley at the Inquisitor, but the elf launched a web of lightning from his hand, swatting the projectiles out of the air and electrified the archers where they stood. Rajmael turned his attention back to the spirit warrior, ready to dust off his training. This warrior spirit would know what he was capable of. But then, suddenly...

"Aaargh!" Rajmael screamed in terrible agony and his sword fell from his hands as the Anchor in his palm erupted like a volcano of pain that burned all the way up his arm and throughout his body. Unable to stand but refusing to die, Rajmael dived away from the warrior's reach and out of the archers' line of sight.

"Inquisitor!" Iron Bull bellowed furiously. He fearlessly charged the spirit warrior with his axe, aiming to split the ethereal creature in half. The warrior blocked Bull's deathblow with the shaft of his hammer and kicked the massive qunari with such force it sent him hurdling back down the steps.

Varric and Sera took cover behind some sand bags to provide some cover fire for their comrades. Ranier and Cassandra raised their shields and held them against the enemy archers volley of arrows. The spirits conjured even more arrows out of thin air and fired them with blinding speed and accuracy, then repeated the attack. Dorian and Vivienne raised a barrier to give all of them cover, but the archers and their infinite arrows made it impossible for them to assist the Inquisitor without getting hit. Zevran threw some a couple of smoke bombs at the archers to grant them some cover while blinding their enemies.

Aedan's eyes began to glow red and held his dragonbone axe ready to charge out there and help the Inquisitor. Until Cole made an ill-thought move.

"I have to help him!" Cole shouted and tried rushing over to the Inquisitor. He slipped through the mages' barrier and tried running to his fallen leader, putting himself right in the archers' sights.

"Look out, boy!" Aedan shouted, dashing out into the middle of the fray and pulling Cole out of the way, and making himself a perfect target. A volley of spirit arrows pierced Aedan's side and back as he threw Cole back to safety.

"You're hurt." Cole said worriedly.

"Don't worry about me, kid. It's gonna take a lot a more than toothpicks from spirits to harm me." Aedan assured. To him, these arrows were more akin to rain than an actual threat.

Rajmael felt like all the bones and muscles on his left side were on fire, making it hard for him to get back up. He crawled over towards the other eluvian to keep from being shot by the archers. It figures, really. His first real fight in two years, and he was failing so utterly. Just what was wrong with this damned mark? Now wasn't the time to think about it, he had to get back into the fight.

Rajmael tried to reach for his sword to aid his comrades. He could almost touch it with his fingertips. The spirit warrior kicked the Inquisitor's sword out of his reach, then kicked him on to his back. It pinned Rajmael to the ground with its foot, raised its hammer above his head, and prepared to crush the intruder with all its might.

A blade black as midnight sprang forth from the eluvian Rajmael laid before, impaling one of the warrior spirit like a butterfly on a pin. The owner of the black sword emerged from the eluvian like an answer to a prayer. Several grenades were thrown at the spirit archers, blasting several down from behind before they had a chance to react. The mysterious savior charged the remaining spirits in the smoke. There was the sound of a blade cutting the air, and when the smoke cleared, it revealed the dispatched spirits disappearing, and the mystery figure standing alone. A warrior in black armor with a tattered red sash draped across his chest. He held a dark greatsword in his hands, and a red smear of blood painted across his face.

Varric rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't seeing things, because he couldn't believe his own eyes. "I'm either drunk, insane, or this is a sodding miracle. Hawke, is that really you?"

The Champion of Kirkwall sheathed the Celebrant on his back, and smiled welcoming at his old friend. "Well, Varric, you never are truly sober, and your sanity was always questionable, but if there is a Maker, then this truly is a miracle. I was half-expecting to land in Seheron, or something like that. It would seem trouble has a way of reuniting us, doesn't it?"

Varric laughed heartily and the two old friends laughed, glad to see each other again, even under such circumstances. Everyone was also having a hard time believing their eyes. The Champion just burst out of one of the eluvians and cut down the enemy down within moments. It was like something out of Varric's unbelievable stories.

"I don't understand. How is it you're here, Champion? How could you have come here?" Cassandra asked disbelievingly.

"Well, as you might know, given how much Varric has told you, Merrill has an eluvian. Been dormant and inactive, even though she repaired it years ago. Imagine my surprise when it suddenly activates right in my basement and a qunari soldier jumps out of it, swinging his weapon like a maniac." Hawke explained. "I told Merrill and Isabella to get Aveline and the others while I investigated. Now, I am here, wherever here is."

"Well, now it looks like you're stuck here with us. That mirror you used looks like it closed behind you." Ranier pointed.

"What? Damn it!" Hawke cursed, rushing over to the mirror that brought him here, and groaned agitatedly to find that it was indeed deactivated. "Grr! Well, I hope you all have a another way out of here. Now can someone please explain to me what in Andraste's holy name is going on?"

"Same shit different detail, Hawke." Varric answered casually. "A dead qunari soldier winds up in the Winter Palace, we found an active mirror, followed it to even more dead qunari, and the we ended up in this ancient elven ruin between dimensions with more dead qunari and hostile elven spirits."

"So it's kind of like a Wednesday even though its Friday?" Hawke surmised.

"Yep, pretty much."

"Given the severity of the situation, I'd say your unexpected arrival is most fortunate. We're probably going to need your sword-arm, Sergeant." Aedan greeted.

"General Cousland? Now, I was certainly not expecting you." Hawke stated. "Burn any cities down today?"

"Not yet, but I am making it a priority."

"The Hero is right Champion. You arrived just when we needed it. And it would seem I owe you my life." Rajmael said graciously. "Thank you."

"Rajmael, what happened to you?" Cassandra asked deeply concerned. "You should have been able to hold your own against that spirit."

"Yeah, after taking a bath in Archdemon fire and killing Corypheus, killing those spirits should have been no problem for you." Iron Bull agreed.

"That thing didn't even touch you and it looked you were in pain." Ranier observed.

Rajmael flexed his left hand and stared at the Anchor in his palm. It was still glowing brightly, but it was no longer causing him any pain. For weeks now the mark had been agitating him, but this was the most extreme it had ever been, and it nearly got him killed. There was no point in keeping it a secret any longer. He explained to his comrades what had been happening to him. How the mark had become more active than it had ever been, becoming more alive. And causing him no end of pain.

"This is most troubling news, Inquisitor." Hawke spoke direly.

"Rajmael...why didn't you say anything?" Cassanra asked, her heart gripped with worry.

"Always knew that damned thing was nothing but trouble." Iron Bull grunted.

"I didn't want anyone to worry." Rajmael answered. "It seemed pointless to bring it up since none of us truly know what this mark is capable of. I thought this was merely a side effect of owning the Anchor. It would seem I was wrong."

"Yeah, but this isn't the first time your mark almost got you killed. Remember what happened back at the Conclave? That thing nearly killed you." Varric reminded, sharing the Seeker's concern. "Solas was the only one who was able to stabilize that thing."

"Who is this Solas?" Aedan asked curiously.

"He was a comrade of ours. Helped us with the Inquisition, then disappeared as soon as Corypheus was killed." Ranier answered.

"I remember Solas." Hawke recalled. "He had the most fascinating theories concerning ancient elven history. Sounds like he's the kind of guy we'd want to have here."

"A mangy elven hedge-mage who thought he knew more about the world because he wasted his days in the Fade." Vivienne said scornfully, still bearing resentment to their former comrade. "He was a tedious and pretentious man, but he was the only one who at least pretended to know anything about that mark. We might have had an actual use for him right now."

"Not to mention he had his head jacked up a thousand years ago." Sera snorted. "Always whining about how elves will never be as great as they used to be. Betch'ya he'd get an instant stiffy if he were standing in this place right now."

"Clearly the only thing that's changed about you in the past two years, Enchanter, is your age." Dorian observed glibly, earning a hateful glare from Vivienne for bringing up the sensitive subject of how old she was. "The way I remember it, it was Solas who stopped the mark from killing the Inquisitor. It was Solas who led us to Skyhold. And it was Solas' knowledge of elven lore that helped us fight Corypheus. And what did you do for the Inquisition, other than kill who you were ordered to kill like a pet dog?"

As much as Rajmael liked seeing Vivienne being verbally whipped, they had more pressing matters to attend to right now. "I wish Solas were here right now. I think he could probably tell us more about this place and its secrets than we could on our own. But right now, we have a mission to complete. We still have to find a way to cross that bridge, and this tower might have the method we seek. You good to join us, Champion?"

"I would be honored even more hostile spirits in a strange dimension with you again, Inquisitor." Hawke smiled. "Besides, it's not like I got much of a choice. I just hope Merrill and Isabella don't freak out now that I won't be going back the way I came."

"Oh, this is gonna be epic!" Varric said barely able to contain his excitement. "Going on an adventure with the Inquisitor, the Hero of Ferelden, and _now_ the Champion of Kirkwall. I might be able to enjoy early retirement off of this story."

**~XoXoXo~**

The heroes and their companions all began to search around the tower. The qunari made their way here for a reason, and those spirits must have been guarding something. Their means of progressing forward had to be here.

"Let's be careful for any more of those hostile spirits." Ranier warned. "They obviously mistook us for intruders."

"We _are_ intruders." Cole corrected. "We're not ancient elves."

"Inquisitor, over here!" Dorian called urgently around the corner. "I think we found something you might want to see."

Rajmael and the others made their way over to where Dorian was and found the subject of his urgency. It was a massive mosaic made of tiles of varying green colors. The mosaic depicted the visage of a wolf looking over a circle with leaves and rushing water swirling inside it, meant to represent this valley. The mosaic was beautifully crafted and it was still as vibrant as the day it was first made, but its beauty was not what Rajmael was interested in at the moment. There was a sphere of energy glowing in the middle of the mosaic, and he could feel its energy reaching out to the Anchor. It was almost like a Rift, but different. As if the Anchor was meant for this.

Rajmael reached his hand out to the mosaic, and the energies of the mosaic and Anchor connected in a beam of bright green magic. In an instant that felt like moments, Rajmael saw images of elven slaves with the vallaslin marked on their faces arrive in this valley in great numbers. They seemed tired and scared, barely able to carry on. They were greeted by others of their kind, ancient elves with bare faces and welcoming smiles who brought them food and tended to their wounds. The Inquisitor couldn't hear, but actually felt their words resonating inside his mind.

_"Fen'heral bids you welcome. Rest, knowing that the Dread Wolf guards you, and his people guard this valley. In this place, you are free. In trusting us, you will never be bound again."_

The magic from the mural was consumed, and it disappeared like paint being washed away from a canvas, revealing another eluvian behind it.

"What was that?" Cassandra asked.

"That mosaic...it was like veilfire, revealing truth with the right magic to reveal it." Rajmael answered, trying to wrap his head around what he just witnessed. "It...it claimed that this was a sanctuary for elven slaves. This whole valley was created by the Dread Wolf, Fen'heral to protect those who came here seeking escape."

"They came here in scores, hurting, hungry, desperate. Then he found them, brought them hope and healing. They knew they were safe." Cole spoke out, sensing the emotions of this place. While he was no longer a spirit, Cole still had some of his empathetic powers.

"What? No, that cannot be." Zevran denied in disbelief. "The ancient elves...they had slaves? Well, I suppose no one's perfect. I just always thought we were better than that."

"It would seem that no people's history is without its flaws." Hawke said sympathetically. "I just don't know if I can ever tell this to Merrill. It would break her heart."

Rajmael had already learned of this painful truth two years ago from Abelas in the Temple of Mythal. It was yet another stain on his people's history, but one they had moved on from. What was really bothering Rajmael at the moment was what this mosaic was saying about the Dread Wolf. "This doesn't make any sense. According to everything I know, Fen'heral is the god of misfortune, nightmares and deceit. How could he be the guardian of this place?"

**~XoXoXo~**

Everyone stepped through the eluvian and were teleported to the upper floor, where they found more evidence of the qunari's presence. It looked like they had used grappling hooks to make their way up here, but something cut their lines. There weren't any here, otherwise they'd all be under attack. Best to be on their guard, just in case there was an ambush somewhere.

They took the stairs further up the tower. When they reached the top of the tower, they found that the qunari had indeed already been here. Their bodies now littered the ground.

"Looks like the qunari found more than they bargained for." Aedan observed.

"Cuts and arrows on the back, no blood on their blades. This was an ambush. These guys never saw it coming." Iron noticed as he inspected the dead soldiers' wounds with his one eye.

"These men haven't been dead long. Their bodies are still warm." Ranier stated, checking for any survivors. "No signs of their attackers."

"I don't see anything, either. That's the problem." Hawke noted cautiously. "No other bodies or evidence of their attack. More of those spirit guardians are waiting for us. Be on your guard."

"Hey, Inquisitor. Another one of those mosaics. Maybe this can give some more answers." Varric pointed.

Rajmael stared intently at the mosaic. Just like the first one, it was a magnificent piece of art and radiated the same ancient magic as the Anchor. It portrayed armed elven slaves carrying spears and shields with an image of the Dread Wolf standing amongst them. Their eyes were fierce and full of purpose. Rajmael raised his hand to it, and let the Anchor reveal the truth behind the picture.

A wave of magic washed over him, and he felt a strange sense of hope well up inside his heart. Images flashed before his eyes like he was dreaming them. Images of a strange man wearing a wolfskin hood standing with a group of freed slaves who looked at him with awe and respect. The hooded figure clasped the arm of another slave in friendship, and the slave showed great honor to his savior. Rajmael felt the words of the mosaic whisper in the back of his mind...

_"Fen'heral has been falsely been declared a god by those he wishes to aid, but is as mortal as any of you. He does not claim the mantle of divinity, and asks that none be bestowed upon him. He leads only those who would help by their own free will. Let none be beholden except by choice."_

Once again, Rajmael could scarcely believe what he had learned, even as the truth unveiled itself before his eyes. "This...this is Fen'heral...helping former slaves as a mortal. He claimed to them that he was not a god, even though his followers declared otherwise."

Zevran shook his head, also not believing what heard. "Impossible. I know less about the elven gods than I do about farming, but even I know that there's no way the Dread Wolf could ever help anyone."

"Yeah, what he said." Sera agreed, which was surprising to Rajmael. "I mean, Fenny actually helping? No, that's bonkers."

"My, oh my." Dorian chuckled. "Aiding and abetting escaped slaves is a capital offense back in the Imperium, and this man took in hundreds of them. Sounds to me like this Dread Wolf was quite the rebel. I'm sure the elven gods simply loved that."

"It is possible that the Dread Wolf's reputation as a malignant deity might have been propaganda by the other so-called elven gods." Vivienne suggested.

"He wanted to stand with his fellows as one of them, not above them. Like any good leader should." Ranier said respectfully.

"Maybe. But you don't get called a god by a lot of people by not having the power to make them think that." Iron Bull said insightfully.

"You don't get a name like_ Dread Wolf _by being an altruistic healer." Aedan stated, knowing the power a reputation can wield. "This guy must have wielded some serious power and strength to make people think he was a god."

"If any of this is true, and he was such a benevolent being, why do all modern elves vilify his as the great enemy of their people?" Hawke asked inquisitively. "Hard to trust the words of a person who for thousands of years has been reviled as a great deceiver."

"But from what we're learning here, it seems the Dread Wolf went to great lengths to deny his supposed divinity." Cassandra reminded. "He didn't want the people he freed to worship him."

Varric couldn't help but smile at the details he was noticing. "Hm. A guy with immense power who aids those who've got none, then denies being any kind of divine even though people are singing prayers about him. Sounds like another powerful elf we know."

"Do not compare me to the Dread Wolf!" Rajmael growled in his throat, disgusted at the comparison. "To have anything in common with the Fen'heral is to be anathema to the people. Now, let's go. We still have to get a across that bridge."

Rajmael's once pious faith in the elven gods had been deeply shaken since meeting Flemeth and learning the truth about Mythal, but in his heart, he still wanted to believe in their greatness. He still held on to that flame of truth that he would be proven wrong, and he refused to be convinced by words that praised a god whose very venue was deception.

The mosaic melted away to reveal a hidden entrance into the tower. The inside was dim, barely lit by torches of veilfire, and left in ruins. Ancient columns and parts of the wall now littered the floor after many centuries of neglect, but the tower still held firmly. As they navigated further into the depth of the tower, the corridor became darker, and the veilfire weaker, until they were walking in complete darkness.

However, they could still see light glimmering faintly through the darkness, guiding them towards it like a beacon. A beacon of green light. It lead them to another mosaic, glowing like a green bonfire in this dark depths of this tower. This one's magic was the most alluring so far, almost like it was shouting out to the Anchor. This mosaic depicted a circle of chains around marked elven faces and eight shrouded entities were drawing power from it. Once again Rajmael saw the images of the past and felt its voice speaking to him.

His heart filled with a bitter fury, just like the one he felt when he first met Flemeth in the Fade. He saw images of elven mages enslaving tens of thousands of their own kind. They stood above their enslaved thralls making arrogant proclamations to them, claiming to godliness, and demanding worship. The voice of the mosaic speak to him in bitter outrage.

_"The gods, our Evanuris, claim divinity, yet they are naught but powerful in magic and can die as you can. In this place, we teach those who join us to unravel their lies."_

Rajmael was so overcome with shock, he felt as though his a breeze could knock him over. Once again, he felt that horrible sensation of betrayal and outrage stabbing his heart like a burning knife. It was the same anger that Eva felt towards him, and now his soul was filled to the brim with it. He leaned against a wall, trying to find some sort of explanation, an argument to convince himself of that these images were lies. But he couldn't, there was no hint of falsehood in what he had seen.

"No...this cannot be..." Rajmael denied, deeply crestfallen.

"Rajmael, what's wrong?" Cassandra asked deeply concerned. She had never seen him this upset, even when Sera insulted him back in Skyhold.

"This mosaic it...it claims...that the elven Creators, our gods...were false." Each word felt like a burning coal in Rajmael's throat as he spoke them. "They were merely Evanuris...powerful but mortal mages posing as gods."

"It was almost like these former slaves were being untaught what they had learned. Being formed into a rebellion." Said Ranier.

"This Fen'heral must have been gathering these freed elves to rise up against their former masters. Teaching them how to begin an uprising." Cassandra added.

"If that's true, then he was using this place to rebuild the slaves' confidence. Teach them how to get rid of old habits. How to hate the people who put them on their knees." Iron Bull stated. As a former Ben'hesrath, he knew about this sort of conditioning.

"Interesting word, Evanuris." Dorian commented. "If all it means is _'mage-leader'_, well, the elven gods were basically Magisters."

Rajmael cringed and his blood boiled on instinct at hearing anything of his people's history being compared to the likes of the Tevinter Magisters who enslaved and ruined his people. However, if any of this was true, it was nearly impossible to deny those similarities.

"Fen'heral, Thane Shartan, the Dalish. It would seem that the true legacy of the elves is rebelling against those who try to enslave us." Zevran stated grimly.

"If this is true, and Fen'heral was trying to free the elven people, why do the elves consider him to be their great nemesis?" Hawke asked curiously. "All myth, no matter how farfetched, is based in truth."

Aedan snorted with great disinterest in everyone's curiosity on the matter. "You see? This is why I'm an atheist. No matter which god you worship, they're always nothing but disappointments."

Rajmael wrestled with the conflict of emotions burning inside him. He thought he had made peace with the fallibility of the Creators after discovering the truth about Mythal. How she and Flemeth were one and the same being. That their Great Protector was nothing more than an infamous witch with a reputation for stealing children. How so many elves had prayed to for protection and died for their faith only to be ignored by the very god they gave their lives to.

Now Rajmael was learning that not only was Mythal a failure as a god, but that she and all the Creators, were no gods at all, merely powerful mages. Mages that had enslaved them. The history of his people, the legacy they so ardently revered and tried so desperately to preserve, was no different than that of Tevinter.

Rajmael pushed his internal conflict out of his mind. Now was not the time to let his emotions and personal problems distract him.

The Inquisitor walked through the passage that opened behind the mosaic. It was a strange, isolated chamber, filled with the same magic as the Anchor. Four statues of elven archer with solemn faces pointing their arrows towards an altar with a wolf idol sitting on top of it. The idol sat beneath an artificially crafted elven tree, that was hanging upside down from the roof. The tree was crackling with green magic, like lightning caught in its branches. Rajmael felt the Anchor reaching out to it, and his hand lifted outwards as though it had a mind of its own.

The green lightning from the strange tree shot into Rajmael's hand, and was absorbed by the Anchor. The mark flared like a torch in Rajmael's palm and crackled with renewed energy like Rajmael had never felt before. Once all the magic had been absorbed, the chamber was left in complete darkness.

"Ah!" Rajmael cried more in surprise than in pain.

"Are you alright?" Cassandra asked in the shadows.

"I...I don't know. Lately, it feels like I have no control over this thing. I think...it just absorbed whatever ancient magic was laying dormant here." Rajmael clenched his fist and felt a new sensation from the Anchor in his palm, like it was full to the brim with excess magic. He could feel it charging in his hand. Rajmael channeled his will through the mark to discharge the excess energy, which made the mark glow brightly, lighting the room up like he had a torch in his hands.

"Well, glad to see that thing still has some uses." Ranier commented, glad to be out of the dark.

"Look at that idol on the altar." Dorian pointed to the wolf figurine. "It looks like it'll fit that pedestal to activate the bridge."

"Great, yeah? Let's just get it and get out of this creepy place." Sera insisted.

"Five sovereigns says that the instant we remove that thing, something's going to jump out and kill us." Varric wagered half-sarcastically.

Rajmael carefully inspected the statuette on the pedestal, making sure that it wasn't rigged before even touching it. When he was satisfied that nothing ill would happen, he gently removed the wolf figure from its resting place. The light from his hand died, and they were once again in darkness. He charged the mark again to illuminate the dark chamber. The light revealed nearly a dozen spirit-assassins standing in the dark, their blades drawn, ready to slay the intruders, just as they did the qunari who trespassed here.

"Holy shit!" Varric shouted in surprise at discovering they were suddenly surrounded. He grabbed Bianca and fired exploding shot from her at the assailants.

"Get back to back, don't let them flank you!" Hawke shouted. Even with the light from the Inquisitor's mark illuminating the chamber, these assassins could still hide in the shadows. At this point in his life, there wasn't much of anything Hawke hadn't faced down and killed. He had fought spirits and assassins on numerous occasions, but never spirit-assassins, that was new. Nonetheless, these were still spirits, and spirits, while powerful, were not adaptable. And assassins, spirit or otherwise, could only attack from two distances: at long range or up close. And in such close quarters, these assassins were using daggers. Hawke knew what to do. Hawke used the Celebrant's reach to strike out at the spirit-assassin's before they could get too close to him. Lunging with it like a spear and impaling them like strips of incorporeal meat. The powerful enchantments Sandal inscribed on the blade dissipated several of the spirits like they were made of smoke.

Sera and Varric stayed behind the others to try and pick their shots and shoot the hostile spirits before they tried anything. Varric threw some of his homemade land mines in their direction, and watched it explode like fireworks when one of them stepped on it and took out three of their fellows with it. Sera grabbed on of her elemental vials, and instead of smashing it on her clothing, because she didn't want to be any where near those things, she threw her vial at them. When the glass smashed on one of their ghostly heads, it lit up like a bon fire, and splattered on to a couple more.

Cassandra, Ranier and Iron Bull followed the Champion's advice and kept their backs to one another, so that they wouldn't get dirked from behind like the qunari did. Cassandra used her abilities as a Seeker to weaken the magic that gave these spirits form, but not to the effect she had expected. These spirits were ancient, and their connection to this place was strong. She weakened the spirits just enough to stun them, but that brief pause was more than for her, Ranier and Iron Bull to cut, cleave and smash the spirits down.

Zeveran and Cole were completely at home in dark and out of sight. They knew exactly how to slip into the shadows and be utterly unnoticed by their enemies. Zevran because of his elite training as an Antivan Crow, an occupation he was the best in. Cole, because that was how he carried out his purpose as a spirit, so that he could take people's pain away. With the enemy so focused on the mages and the warriors, Zevran and Cole were able to slip unnoticed by them, and used their very sharp and well-used knives to stab the spirit-assassin's in their backs before slipping back into the shadows. This would help keep their comrades from being overwhelmed as well as hobble their enemy's focus.

The Imperial Enchanter and the Tevinter Ambassador were as different as any two mages could be. They both hailed from two different empires that despised one another, and were the seats of two completely different forms of Andrastianism. And they both utilized opposite forms of magic. Vivienne wielded ice while Dorian commanded fire, but together, these two masterful mages could devastate any enemy. The two mages used their magic to keep the enemy at bay and prevent them from overwhelming them and their comrades. Vivienne set up ice-wards around them, that froze the assassins solid the instant they set foot on them. With the enemy frozen, Dorian was able to pick them off with massive fireballs that shattered them apart and melted them into nothing. Despite their outwards dislike for one another, Dorian and Vivienne were a very capable pair, if they could get past their monumental differences.

Most people thought of the great-axe as a barbaric, unrefined, unruly weapons, but in the hands of a master warrior, like Aedan, it was the most devastating and fearsome of all instruments of death. The Hero swung his ugly weapon with such devastating force and incredible speed, the assassins were unable to with stand the onslaught. Instead, he charged the spirit-assassins with full force, bringing his gruesome axe down on them with all his might. The force of the blow was so strong it split the ground and sent some of the spirit assassins flying backwards. One by one, each of the spirits that dared to even try to get near Aedan was cleaved apart by Aedan's axe like pieces of kindling.

Rajmael's Shimmering Shield gleamed around him like an aura of protection, and his sword lit like a bonfire of white flame in the darkness. The Inquisitor's training as an Arcane Warrior and his mastery over that discipline heightened his senses and awareness to a degree most would consider unnatural. He could feel where the assassins were going to attack him, and was able to deflect and counter their attempts on him flawlessly. To watch the Inquisitor fight was like watching a well-choreographed play, but now it was time to draw the curtains on this play. Rajmael thrusted his sword above his head like he was stabbing at the air, and arcs of lightning discharged from the tip of his blade, hitting the remaining spirits and stunning them like flies caught in a web. With the enemy stunned, Rajmael dashed past each of them within the blink of an eye, and cut each of them down with a single stroke from his sword. The spirits disappeared into nothing.

With these guardians dispatched, it was time to get back on track. There was still the qunari to deal with.

**~XoXoXo~**

With the wolf statuette in hand, Rajmael and the others made their way back to the submerged bridge and placed the figurine on the broken pedestal. The idol fit like a key in a lock and raised the bridge from the lake, allowing them to cross over to the island temple where they saw the qunari fighting those spirits. It looked as if the qunari were trying to set up camp here, but taken by surprise by the spirit guarding this place. The camp was in flames and dead qunari littered the ground. They searched around for anything they could find that could give them answers.

As they searched amongst the ruined camp and dead bodies, Rajmael found a charred note that barely survived the fires that consumed this area. Half of it was gone, but the rest was legible, which was strange in of itself. Why would it be written in the common tongue instead of qunlat? Rajmael looked at the note closely and read it aloud to his fellows.

_" ...struck the tower, a great sizzling bolt out of a blue sky. Afterward, spirits emerged from a statue of a wolf, as if the lightning woke them, and they appeared to be looking for someone. The only word I understood was "Fen'Harel." They did not see me, but beware, for they attack any guards who..."_

"Sounds like they got more than they bargained for when they arrived here." Ranier commented.

"Something awoke them. Ages upon ages in peaceful slumber, but always waiting, watching, standing ready. This was their post, their duty, and they continued to guard it." Cole spoke.

"If they're making notes on how to occupy this place, it means there's probably more of them coming here." Zevran pointed out.

"This is strange. Why would someone write this warning in our language? Would it not make more sense to write it in qunlat?" Rajmael inquired.

"What I want to know is why in the Maker's name are the qunari even here, or even using these magic mirrors in the first place." Hawke stated curiously.

"Perhaps even the qunari can see the value of unlocking the knowledge and secrets of this place." Cassandra suggested.

"The qunari never seek knowledge to unlock it, only to control and wield it, Seeker." Dorian informed. "Something that we in Tevinter have learned the hard way."

"The qunari waste nothing, it's true, but this goes against everything I thought I knew about them." Hawke responded. "The qunari _hate_ magic as something unnatural and beyond their control. And anything they can't control, they put on a leash. If they can't be leashed, they're lobotomized. And if lobotomy doesn't work, they destroy it."

"Yeah, that usually is standard procedure." Iron Bull agreed as if such measures weren't extreme. "I sure as shit would never have guessed that any qunari would ever use these weird mirror things. I would have expected them to just smash all the ones they could find."

"Guess the qunari are filled with more surprises than we thought." Varric commented. "And here I thought the only thing they could do was invade other places, and do everything they could to suck the fun out of everything."

"The magic here is dangerous, I would have thought a people who strive for pragmatism would at least set up more protective measures." Vivienne criticized casually.

"If these horn-heads don't like weird magically things with the spirits and the mirrors, what the frick is they even doin' here?" Sera asked belligerently.

Aedan's eyes went over to the elven castle and his lips curled into a disturbing grin. "Well, why don't we go over there and ask them?"

A squad of qunari soldiers emerged from the elven castle and fell into formation. Warriors with large tower shield in front with spear throwers in the back, and rogues at the flanks. They were here for a fight.

"Vashedan! The Inquisition does not leave this place alive!" The qunari officer ordered. "Ataash qunari!"

The qunari obeyed the order and attacked in full force. The warriors lobbed grenades at them from behind their tower shields, and the spearmen threw their lances with devastating speed accuracy. Vivienne cast an ice spell that froze the grenades in mid-air while Hawke and Rajmael deflected the spears thrown at them. Aedan caught the spear thrown at him with his bare hands, then threw it back at one of the qunari soldiers. The spear flew straight through the soldier's shield, the soldiers body, then impaled the qunari who first threw it.

A sadistic grin spread across the Hero's face as he held his gruesome axe ready. Aedan Cousland had spent most of his adult life in combat and shedding blood, and at this point, there was nary a thing in Thedas that he hadn't killed, executed or mutilated. Despite the fact he rarely ever left Ferelden, his capacity for violence made him infamous throughout all of Thedas. However, qunari were something that he rarely encountered outside of his days during the Blight with the Sten. Now he finally had the chance to test the mettle of this formidable enemy. Time to find out if they were really the plague Tevinter claimed them to be.

Aedan charged the qunari down with a blood-curdling cry from his maw. Their shields may as well have been made out of paper for all the good they did against the raw power of his dragonbone axe. He swung his weapon in a wide arc at their midsections, and the crescent blade of his axe easily sliced through their flesh and ripped their intestines right out of their bodies. One of the rogues tried to pounce him from behind; Aedan caught her by the throat and snapped her trachea in one movement, killing her before her body hit the ground. The last one tried falling back to the castle ruin, but didn't get very far: Aedan threw his great-axe right at his head and cleaved deeply into his chest.

The Hero walked up to the body of the qunari he just killed and got his axe back. So far, he wasn't very impressed with these qunari.

To say that some of them were a little stunned at seeing what the Hero just did would be short-selling it. It was one thing to hear of Aedan's capacity for violence, it was another thing entirely to see him apply it. Rajmael and Dorian had already seen what the Hero of Ferelden was capable of in that nightmarish future that Alexius sent them to, but this Aedan was different. Instead of being filled with anguish and loss, this one was fueled by purpose, and it was a bloody one.

"There's more of them inside. We must press the attack!" Rajmael shouted.

"Good! This beats political delegations any day of the week!" Aedan laughed.

All of them charged into the ancient temple, and sure enough, there were indeed more qunari waiting for them, and they weren't alone. Just like their slain compatriots outside, they were already engaged in heated combat with the spirits that guarded this place. This would be a three sided battle, with only one winner. Unlike the qunari, Rajmael and everyone with him, had faced spirits and demons before, and they fought things far worse than the qunari. There could only be one outcome to this skirmish.

Rajmael, Dorian, and Vivienne rained down lightning, fire and ice on their enemies with their magic while all the warriors pressed the attack. Varric and Sera used their arrows to pick off any stragglers that tried falling back, while Zevran and Cole attacked from the flanks. The spirits and qunari were so preoccupied with each other, that neither side could brace for the attacks that slammed into their blindside. Like a hammer smacking an anvil and smashing it to pieces. Within a mere matter of moments, both the qunari soldier and the spirit guardians were slain.

With the enemy dispatched, everyone now had a moment to catch their breath.

"Anybody wanna tell me just what the hell that was all about?" Varric asked.

"Those qunari attacked _'the Inquisition'_ on sight. They were targeting us specifically." Rajmael pointed out.

"Qunari never act without orders. A very high-ranking member within the Qun ordered this. Only their leaders can authorize an expedition like this." Cassandra stated factually.

"I don't think so. They weren't Tal-Vashoth, that's for sure." Iron Bull interjected, knowing more about the Tal-Vashoth and the Qun than any of them. "This might be a rogue group, but they _think_ they're serving the Qun."

"Looks like fanatics suck ass no matter which religion they follow." Aedan said sarcatically.

"What kind of place is this?" Zevran inquired curiously, gazing at the architecture around them.

"From the looks of it, I'd say it's some kind of a temple, or a church." Hawke observed, looking at the well-preserved ruin.

When looking at the interior of this place, one could see that it indeed have the same trappings and appearance as a place of worship. Even in this state of disrepair and all the blood and dead bodies laying around, there was an air of tranquility to this place. Like you could just leave your problems at the doorstep and find peace here."

When looking at the interior of this place, one could see that it indeed have the same trappings and appearance as a place of worship. Even in this state of disrepair and all the blood and dead bodies laying around, there was an air of tranquility to this place. Like you could just leave your problems at the doorstep and find peace here."

"What would the point of a place like this be if the Dread Wolf was trying get the slaves to abandon their notions of worshiping the false the gods?" Dorian asked.

"This may have been where Fen'heral did just that." Hawke answered, still taking in his surroundings. "Maybe this wasn't a temple of faith, but a place of learning. Where Fen'heral inspired the freed slaves to forget what they had learned. The first step to discarding any form of slavery is learning how to think for yourself."

"Hey, I found ancient piece of art over here. Maybe this can shed some light." Zevran called from atop the nearby stairs.

Rajmael and the others went over to Zevran, and found a magnificently carved elven statue of a wolf laying down. It had an almost meditative look carved on its face and exhumed the same air of tranquility as the rest of the temple. Its eyes were gazing at a nearby wall with a perfectly preserved mural painted on it. It was elven fresca, almost exactly the same style that Solas painted back in Skyhold's rotunda, and it showed no signs of age or decay. The mural depicted a hooded figure wearing a wolfskin cloak and carrying a staff removing the vallaslin from the elves who arrived in this valley.

"Is that the Dread Wolf removing Dalish blood-writing?" Zevran asked incredulously.

"I don't think so. This place far predates the Dales." Aedan reminded.

"Solas once told me that there were ancient elven rebels who knew a spell to remove the vallaslin from escaped elven slaves." Rajmael informed. "This must be Fen'heral removing the last vestiges of their slavery from them. Solas once offered to take mine away."

"Tch. Then why didn't you just take it?" Sera asked skeptically. "The Dalish have been gettin' their facts wrong forever, why keep doing something stupid."

Rajmael glared poisoned daggers at Sera, a final warning for her to watch her tone about how she spoke of his people. Sera got the hint, remembered Rajmael's promise, and detracted her attitude.

"You do not discard history simply because it isn't as perfect as you want it to be." Rajmael spoke sternly. "My people have moved on from the mistakes of our ancestors, and we wear the vallaslin as a symbol of who we are, and our dedication to the Path. My mark and the Path I have chosen is the one of knowledge and the truth it reveals. As far as I'm concerned, wearing the vallaslin with pride makes us _greater_ than the elves of Arlathan."

"A wise most wise answer, Inquisitor." Aedan chuckled, tracing the blue tattooing on his own face. "I dare say you and I have more in common than I thought."

Rajmael didn't know whether to be honored or disturbed by what the Hero just admitted. He decided to take it as a compliment. After all, how many men in Thedas had earned the Hero of Ferelden's respect like this. Such a shame it would still have no bearing in the Exalted Council.

"You think we might find some answers amongst these ancient pieces of art?" Ranier asked. "There's got to be something here that can tell us what the qunari were after. They had to have come in here for something."

Ranier had a point. The Qunari wouldn't have pressed into this temple and engage the guardians here they way they did unless their was something they wanted. Something they were looking for. Rajmael looked back over to the statue of the wolf and noticed the tablet inscribed before it. There was writing carved into the table that Rajmael barely recognized, yet could see as clearly as daylight. It was written in an ancient elven text, and he could barely recognize the symbols, yet as he looked intently at the inscriptions, it looked as if the words were rearranging themselves so that he might understand them.

Rajmael read the words aloud as they appeared before his eyes...

"_The Dread Wolf keeps its gaze on the one light that illuminates the way forward._"

"Strange that I can read that." The Inquisitor noted curiously.

"This place has been dormant, inactive, asleep, for too long. They want to be seen, recognized by one of the People." Cole answered insightfully.

"It must be like the Crossroads. This place reacts differently to elves." Dorian deduced.

"That's well and all, but what does this ancient piece of poetry supposed mean?" Zevran asked.

"It's a riddle. Leave it to a god of trickery to hide a doorway behind conundrums and metaphors." Rajmael sighed wearily.

Thanks to Rajmael's elven eyes, the riddle was able to reveal more than it kept hidden. The Inquisitor looked at the statue of the wolf, and noticed that its tranquil eyes were gazing forward at one of the unlit torches lined up in front of the mural. The wolf was staring at one torch in particular. The one beneath the painted image of Fen'heral removing a slave's vallaslin.

Rajmael raised his hand to the torch and used his magic to light it with veilfire. A loud ringing like a bell gonged through the temple and a gently glowing green light lit up in the wolf's eyes. The platform of the statue moved aside revealing a hidden passage below the wolf. The light from the Dread Wolf's gaze truly lit the way.

They cautiously walked down the steps hidden below the Dread Wolf's feet, and at the bottom of the steps they found another mosaic glowing with green magic. This one depicted bare-faced elves lifting swords up high with Fen'heral looking down on them. The Inquisitor raised his marked hand and connected the magic of the Anchor with the mosaic to unlock the secrets it held.

Rajmael saw the images of former slaves in ranks with Fen'Harel, armed and strong. Their skin is clear; their face tattoos, the elven vallaslin, is gone. He felt the voices and emotions of the past fill him up inside like a pitcher of water as the wall disappeared before him.

_"The brand of the Evanuris can be lifted from you, that all may know you oppose their cruelties. None here are slaves. All are under our protection. All may choose to fight."_

The mosaic revealed another hidden room behind it. A secret chamber filled with arms and armor of magnificent and ancient elven design. Entire suits of armor, bows, swords and spears, ready to be used. Aside from all the dust and webs that covered them, these instruments of war still looked as shard as the day they were forged.

"Hidden weapons. These freed slaves actually fought back against the Evanuris posing as gods." Rajmael realized.

"It would seem that escaping the Evanuris wasn't enough. They wanted to free their whole empire from the false gods, and were willing to go to war for it." said Cassandra.

"If these elven slaves were anything like the elves of today, I don't blame 'em." Ranier added. "They wanted their freedom, and probably some payback."

"They wanted a better life, free from pain and sorrow. And we willing to fight for it." Cole spoke out.

"It would seem that no matter what era, past or present, elves are always rebelling against their oppressors." Zevran commented. "Perhaps modern elves have more in common with our ancestors than we thought."

"Ugh. No! I do not wanna think that." Sera shuddered, trying to ignore the Antivan Crow's comparison.

"If this valley was so well hidden, the escaped slaves could have lived in peace, but instead chose to fight back. What a romantic notion." said Vivienne.

"Tch. Like you care." Sera scoffed. "Like you treat your servants any better."

"My dear Sera, any servant under my employ is well compensated for their service."

"Yeah, _you_ would think they like being treated like that." Sera said with disgust.

"Back in Tevinter, slave rebellions are more common than most think or would admit, but they are always put down hard. The Magisterium always quickly bands to put down _'sedition'_." Dorian informed. "The Evanuris probably would have done the same thing. The Fen'heral must have been a cunning and tenacious bastard to coordinate the freed slaves against them."

"Huh. A great leader frees slaves, leads them against their oppressors who pose as gods, gets elevated to the status of Divine, and shakes the very foundations of a mighty empire." Varric listed observingly. "I dare say this Dread Wolf sounds an awful lot like Andraste herself."

"Well, in any event, I think it's safe to say that they both failed." Iron Bull stated. "Last I checked, elves are still the punching bag of Thedas, and Tevinter never fell. Rebellions are meaningless unless you actually win."

"Well, it certainly wasn't for a lack of trying. Look what these elves had to work with." Aedan grabbed one of the ancient swords of its rack. It was a single-edged sword made of some kind of green material. The Hero gave it a few test swings, making the blade whistle as it cut the air, then threw it at a nearby wall. The blade cut straight through the stone and went half way into the wall like it was made of paper. "I've seen and wielded every kind of ore and material used to make weapons, from steel to dragonbone, but I have never seen a metal like this before. What the hell did these elves use to make their weapons?"

"It's not sylvanwood, I can tell you that." Rajmael responded.

"I don't believe it...Sweet Maker, it must be..." Hawke said excitedly as he grabbed another ancient sword and placed it on a nearby table. There was an excited look in his eyes, like a child on Wintersend Morning. "This...this is Veil Quartz!"

"Veil quartz? I don't think that's a stone I've ever heard of, Hawke. And work with the Mining Caste with the Merchant's Guild." Varric said curiously.

"My father told me about it. Said that there was a type of crystal native only to the Fade, one that mages encounter whenever they dream that can strengthen them while they're their." Hawke explained enthusiastically as he examined the blade. "We saw plenty of it when we were in the Fade back at Adamant."

"That's what those strange crystals were?" Varric recalled. "Shit, if I knew they were that rare, I would have nabbed some and sold it to the Merchant's guild, or even the Circle."

"How can you tell that it's veil quartz, aside from it being a strange green metal?" Dorian asked curiously.

Hawke reached into his pouch and pulled out a vial of blue glowing liquid that seemed to give of a faint hum, it had to be lyrium. The Champion poured a few drops on the elven blade and it absorbed the lyrium like a plant with water. The blade began humming a song that they could all hear and feel in the back of their minds, like a soothing tingling sensation.

"The song! I had almost forgotten it." Cole said joyously. When he was a spirit, he could hear the tune that lyrium gave off. "I should try to teach it to Maryden. I think she would like it."

"How is it your father knew about Veil Quartz, Champion?" Vivienne asked, genuinely impressed.

"My father was a _very_ accomplished mage. More so than most would think." Hawke answered proudly.

"Look at all these weapons. If Veil Quartz is as rare as you claim, Champion, how is it that the elves were able to outfit so many with it?" Ranier wondered.

"Hmm. I recall Solas once saying that our sojourn into the Fade was the second only the second one accomplished in _human_ history." Dorian recalled. "At the time, I thought he was just being his usual reticent self, but perhaps he was letting me in on a piece of history none of us would have believed. Perhaps the ancient elves frequented the Fade and harvested the Veil Quartz there? Like how dwarves mine lyrium."

"Mortal journeying in and out of the Fade? No, that's not possible. Both times that was done in human history, it was a catastrophe." Cassandra denied. "Even the ancient elves couldn't have been that foolish."

"Solas certainly liked to _pretend_ that he knew everything there was about old secrets, and then _act_ as if the never posed any harm." Vivienne recalled contentiously. "I wonder how much of it he discovered in distorted dreams and the rest he simply made up."

"Like _you_ would know what real truth is, Vivienne." Rajmael spoke out on Solas' behalf. "You just couldn't stand the fact that he was an apostate that stood on equal ground with you, if not higher. With these eluvians, my ancestors could probably travel anywhere they wanted. But if that's the case, then what the hell is the point of this Anchor? Why would this thing be needed to rip the Veil if the ancient elves could just use the eluvians?"

"Maybe we'll find those answers further ahead. We still have the qunari to deal with, and we need to find out what _they_ are doing with the eluvians." Aedan reminded.

**~XoXoXo~**

Everyone walked further down the stairway, deeper into the hidden armory. Someone was definitely here; torches were lit and there were footprints disturbing all the dust. Many footprints. They came upon a massive forge where more of the ancient weapons and armor were housed, along with ancient bunks and sleeping quarters. This place was some kind of ancient barracks that the elven rebels used to house their weapons and soldiers. Despite being abandoned for countless centuries, it was in excellent condition; even the forges were still lit And currently standing in this ancient barrack, was an active eluvian, along with a squadron of a well-armed qunari warriors. And they looked very unhappy.

"The Inquisition. Kill them all! Ataash qunari!" The Sten of this squad commanded, holding his immense axe above his head.

"If they want a fight, they've got one. No quarter!" Rajmael ordered to his comrades. All of them readily obliged.

"Take out their officers! Don't let them coordinate the fight!" Hawke yelled to the others.

It had been too damned long since Varric fought at Hawke's side since the battle at Adamant Fortress. Despite being surrounded by qunari soldiers again, and spirits trying to kill them, Varric couldn't help but be excited. This was probably the most fun he was going to have until he had to resume his mind-numbingly tedious duties as Viscount. So he was going to try and enjoy every moment of this.

Following Hawke's instructions, Varric aimed Bianca and began picking off the officers in charge. It wasn't difficult to spot them. They were the ones with the more outstanding armor and vicious-looking weapons. These oxemen may have had some pretty damned good protection against most weapons, but there was no protection from Bianca once she had her sights set on you.

While Iron Bull enjoyed watching other people kick some serious ass, he was never one to be a spectator when being a participant was a lot more fun. He charged down his former qunari, bellowing at the top of his lungs, swinging his immense axe with all his might. This karataam had some really good training, and it was obvious they'd seen plenty of action before being assigned here. But Iron Bull went through Seheron and Corypheus, these guys were pansies compared to what he's been doing for the past few years.

"Parshara! Kill the Tal-Vashoth!" One of the soldiers yelled before Iron Bull lodge his axe into his brain.

"Come a little closer, and give it a shot." The Tal-Vashoth mercenary dared. More than a few of the qunari took that challenge, only to be mauled by The Bull.

Zevran harried the qunari by dashing past them and striking at their flanks and blind spots. Hard to fight against other opponents when your arteries are opened and your tendons are severed. Three qunari soldiers armed with spears got tired of the former Antivan Crow assaulting their brethren, and decided to kill him themselves. Zevran was armed only with daggers, and these rather large and very angry-looking Qunari looked very good at using their spears. Thankfully, fighting dirty was Zevran's specialty.

With a cocky grin on his face, Zevran threw one of his daggers at the spearman nearest to him. The soldier was apparently as fast as he was large, and caught the dagger in his hand with his quick reflexes, but failed to catch or even see the smoke bomb Zevran threw alongside his dagger. The bomb blew up in the qunari's face, filling his eyes with smoke, crushed glass and metal shaving. The soldier screamed in blind agony and rage, swinging his spear wildly and almost hitting his own companions.

This worked out just as Zevran had hoped. He dodged the wild swings of the qunar's spear and got really close to him. Close enough to redirect him towards his own comrades with a powerful shove. The other qunari caught their blinded brother, failing to realize that Zevran had used his quick, nimble fingers to light up the blackpowder grenades that guy was carrying. The grenades and exploded and killed all three qunari spearman in a ball of fire that sent their body part flying all over the room. Zevran just loved to fight dirty.

Fighting in such tight places was never a good idea for an archer, but these qunari never fought someone as unpredictable as Sera. She heard these qunari guys didn't like the cold, so she smashed one of her Flasks of Frost on her jerkin, covering herself in a protective armor of ice. The qunari froze themselves solid just from trying to get close to her and backed away to adjust their tactics. Not giving them any time to think, Sera shot at them with her special explosive arrows. The qunari were shot, then blown to pieces, with Sera laughing at the flying bits.

Dorian had lived under the threat of the qunari his entire life. Growing up in Minrathous, there was a constant worry that one day their defenses would fail them and the soldiers of the Antaam would come pouring into their capital. It was a concern that was largely ignored, even by him. Now it seemed like the qunari were trying to make a push into the South, but Dorian wasn't going to ignore it this time.

The others had already slain members of this karataam, making Dorian job so much easier. In more ways than one. Dorian focused his will towards the dead qunari soldiers and summoned several minor wisps bound to his will to take hold of their bodies. The dead qunari rose back up, grabbing their weapons and began fighting against their former comrades.

"The Tevinter sarebaas has defiled our brothers!" One of the qunari shouted in furious outrage.

"Their husks do not matter. If you want to honor them, slay them again, then the sarebaas!" A karasten ordered.

Dorian knew these revitalized corpses possessed by minor spirits wouldn't stand a chance against highly trained qunari soldiers, and he really didn't want those qunari to do what he knew they did to Tevinter sarebaas. Which is why Dorian planted several Virulent Spirit Bombs in the qunari bodies when the wisps took control of them. Within a matter of seconds, all the qunari exploded in blast of spirit energy that sundered them all to pieces. Dorian couldn't help but smile at his handiwork. His mother used to tell him that he'd never stand a chance against the qunari.

Hawke had fought the soldiers the Antaam had to offer on more than one occasion back in Kirkwall, before he killed the Arishok. Therefore he knew that they were not to be underestimated. The soldiers of the qun were highly disciplined, rigorously trained, and existed for nothing else except war, for that was the only thing the Qun allowed them to know. And that strength was their weakness. Their training was inflexible, did not allow them to adapt to other styles that might exist outside their parameters, making their combat prowess formidable, but stale. They were unused to fighting combatants whose training encompassed various fighting techniques, and that was their weakness.

Hawke developed his fighting style from years of fighting every kind of enemy one could think of. From bandits to soldier, demons and bloodmages, he fought them all and survived not because he was the better fighter, but because he was a better tactician when it came to combat. His father taught him how to think, especially when it came to combat, and it was this ability to out-maneuver and out-think his enemies that made him a dangerous combatant. And have the best equipment coupled with Sandal's powerful enchantment's helped, too.

The Champion used the Celebrant to cut through the shields and break their weapons. Thanks to the range of his sword, the soldier were unable to get close enough to hit him before Hawke cut them down. The Sten, a high-ranking soldier in the Baresaad, with a brutal war axe managed to block Hawke's attack. The runes on the edge of Hawke's came to life, engulfing the Celebrant in flames. The karasten's axe was lit on fire, and within a matter of seconds, so was the karasten. A couple of rogues managed to slip past the reach of his sword, and stabbed at Hawke with their daggers. Their blades bent against the surface of Hawke's armor like they were made of tin. Sandal's enchantments were truly one of a kind. Hawke cut the rogues down with a single swipe of his sword. The Champion moved on from the fight, leaving a pile of dismembered, burning bodies behind. It was almost like his usual days back in Kirkwall.

Aedan was monumentally disappointed with this battle. Not because of the Champion of the Inquisitor's companions, but because it was so brief, and not all of them got to do any of the fighting. Most of them just resorted to blowing up the qunari through whatever means were convenient. It was amazing what someone could do with the right explosives. He was going to have to remember the lyrium bombs he kept in his satchel.

There was one last qunari standing, and he made a break for the nearby eluvian to escape capture and death. Aedan deftly threw his hunting knife at the qunari and lodged it in his leg, right down to the bone. Aedan strode on over to the crippled, bleeding qunari, who tried to swing his sword at the Hero. Aedan stomped on the qunari's hand, crushing it beneath his boot, then kicked him so hard in the face he shattered the qunari's teeth. Aedan then grabbed the qunari soldier by his horn with his vice-like grip, and dragged him over to the nearby forge, shoving his face dangerously close to the flames.

"Inquisitor, if you've got questions you think this piece of shit can answer, I'd ask them now." Aedan suggested. "Otherwise, I'm gonna roast this piece of shit like a side of beef."

Not wanting to test the Hero's patience, and eager for answers, Rajmael quickly approached the remaining qunari. "What are the qunari doing here? Why did you attack us? What plans do you have at the Winter Palace?"

_**"Ebost esala, Sarebaas! Itwa-raas! Itwa-ost!"** _The qunari spat hatefully through broken teeth at the Inquisitor.

"Translation please, Bull?"

"Basically, he said, _'Your soul is dust, mage. You are nothing. You are going to die.'_, Boss." Iron Bull interpreted.

"So...he basically said, _'fuck you'_?" Aedan deduced.

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Well, then, if you're going to be like that..." Aedan shoved the qunari's face into the burning hot coals. The qunari screamed in horrid pain, and struggled desperately to free himself, but Aedan's powerful grip held him in place until the skin burned and melted off his skull and finally died. The qunari's body slumped to the ground, it's head still on fire.

"Well, I guess we're not getting anything out of that asshole, or any of these assholes for that matter." Rajmael observed, looking at all the dead, mostly exploded body parts laying all around them. "Look around this place, see if there's anything here that can tell us what they were doing here. What their orders might be."

"Maybe this will help." Zevran produced a letter and handed it to the Inquisitor. "That qunari officer had it on his person."

Rajmael quirked an eyebrow at the former Antivan Crow. "You just took this off that dead qunari's body?"

"I always relieve our poor slain victims of their worldly possessions. It would be such a shame to let their personal effects go to waste." Zevran explained superficially.

Rajmael rolled his eyes at the assassin's uncouth behavior. He got what he needed, and that's all that mattered. He examined the letter, and just like the other set of orders he found earlier, it was written in both Qunlat and the common tongue, which Rajmael still found odd. The letter read...

_"I have read your reports. Station your people in the abandoned elven towers by the lake. It is a short distance from its entrance to the mirror that connects to Halamshiral. We will need the space to lodge our people after infiltration is complete."_

At the bottom the letter there was a map of the Crossroads. There was an arrow that pointed the elven ruins' eluvian straight to the one that lead to the Winter Palace. This was not a very promising discovery.

"So...the qunari came to these ruins specifically because the eluvians here lead back to Halamshiral." Rajmael realized.

"A staging ground? For an invasion?" Cassandra asked disbelievingly.

"No, I don't think so. This seems more like _some_ kind of infiltration. But there aren't any more details than that." Rajmael answered.

Iron Bull growled frustration at this. "Grr! This doesn't make any sense! The Qun wouldn't be starting a war with the South now. They just wouldn't!"

"Well, we all know that's bullshit." Aedan noted admonishingly. "The Qun has been wanting to wage war with the South and conquer all of Thedas ever since their ships landed in Par Vollen. Looks like they want to finish the job."

"I've seen firsthand what the Antaam is capable of, and it's not pretty." Hawke remembered vividly. "Imagine an entire army of the most religiously devoted fanatics that could put the Chantry to shame with their zealotry, and that every member of that army is willing to kill or be killed for _whatever_ the Qun demands of them. With the South still weak from Corypheus and now looking to dismantle the Inquisition, the South must look like an easy target to the qunari."

"I am not so sure." Cassandra spoke. "If the Qunari wanted to invade in full force, they would probably start with Tevinter before bringing their full might south. Why avoid the Imperium entirely and sneak through these eluvians to infiltrate Halamshiral?"

"I must agree." Dorian added. "If they took their attention off Tevinter, even for a second, the Imperium would bring all its power to bear on Seheron, then Par Vollen."

"Like I said earlier, this has to be a rogue group." Iron Bull reminded. "If the Qunari wanted to invade, and I mean _really_ invade, they wouldn't bother with subtlety, let alone all this elven magic crap."

As the others spoke, Cole approached Rajmael with a different letter in his hands. "Inquisitor, you should look at this. There's fear and panic and written on the paper.",

Rajmael took the note from Cole, and it was indeed covered with blood. Looked like whoever wrote this died while still writing it because the note was incomplete. And just like the other letters they found, it was written in two tongues: Common and Qunlat.

_"Two hours ago, an unknown intruder penetrated our defenses. Masked and cloaked. A mage. Used magic to awaken spirits and turned them against us. Intruder moved as if they knew this place, fled after spirits awoke. Dozens dead. Spirits keep attacking. Engagement not reco-"_

The rest of the letter is illegible. The blood is still wet.

"How strange." Rajmael said curiously. "An _'unknown intruder'_ is also going through the eluvians. According to this letter, they turned the spirits against the qunari, then fled."

"It must have been whoever cast that powerful spell that turned those qunari we saw at the entrance into stone. Because there was definitely no mages amongst these qunari." Aedan reminded.

"Whoever it was, they must know something we don't, to have harried the qunari before we even got here." Hawke pointed out. "Not only that, but they must have key knowledge to this place. From what that letter says, it means the spirits in this place weren't just standing here, they were _woken up_ and set against the intruders."

"So, we have two parties at each other's throats, as well as ours." Rajmael confirmed. "The qunari, who are trying to infiltrate the Winter Palace. Then there's this mystery agent trying to stop them."

"But why are the Qunari even here? And how can we be sure this mystery agent isn't the one setting them against us?" Cassandra asked suspiciously.

"That's what we need to find out. We should head back to the Winter Palace and bring this to the War Council's attention." Rajmael affirmed. "If the qunari truly are posing a threat here, we need to be prepared."

Everyone went through the eluvian and made their way back to the Crossroads leading to the Winter Palace. There was a cauldron of mixed emotions inside all of them. While of them were deeply concerned about what intentions the qunari had here, and more than a little bit shaken about what they discovered in these ruins, they were also extremely excited. Excited to have the old gang back together. Excited to have both the Hero of Ferelden and the Champion of Kirkwall at their side. Excited for what could very well be their last adventure with the Inquisition. There was no way any of them were going to let the Inquisitor down. Not here, not ever.

**Meanwhile, Back in the Temple of Mythal...**

Eva was outside the walls of the temple, practicing her painting with the elven fresco. She wanted to be alone, and was desperately trying to keep her mind busy. She was trying so hard to forget about what she had learned, maybe even forget Rajmael altogether. She wanted to forget about everyone.

She was so mad right now, mad at everyone. For two years the man she let take her father's place in her heart was missing from her life, being a hero to the world instead of there for her. Not only that, but he failed to mention that her real father wasn't killed by the Templar along with her mother, but survived and started a cult of elven assassins hellbent on killing all the humans in the South. And that it was Rajmael himself who killed her father, and he kept that a secret from her for two years. Even her grandmother and Keeper kept it a secret from her.

Damn it all, she had a right to know! _She_ was the one who lost the most. _She_ was the one who watched her mother die and her father run off for revenge. Eva _deserved_ to know what truly happened. Rajmael had no right to keep that from her and still act like everything was fine, especially after he had been absent from her life.

Eva heard someone approaching her from behind. She looked around to see two elves she had never seen before. Both of them were barefaced elves, so they were probably her brethren from the city. One had short, closely-cropped brown hair, and a nervous look on his face. The other was a beautiful elven woman with lovely red hair, wearing green armor and had two daggers on her back.

"Can I help you, lethallin?" Eva asked politely.

The elven redhead looked at the painting Eva was putting on the wall, and couldn't help but be taken by it. "This is a beautiful mural you're painting. Who taught you how to do this?"

"My...mama taught me what she knew. Before she died." Eva answered sadly.

"Oh. I'm...I'm sorry." The elven woman said sympathetically. "You are...Eva, yes? The Inquisitor's daughter?"

"Step-daughter. And not anymore" Eva answered with palatable anger. "Now, who may I ask, are you?"

The redheaded stranger knelt down to Eva with a pleasant smile on her face. "I'm sorry, how rude of me. My name is Tallis..."

**Language Codex:**

**Karashock:** Qunari military rank. Translates as "private" or "foot-soldier".

**Sten:** Qunari military rank. Translates as "Infantry platoon commander".

**Parashara:** Qunlat, translates as "Enough".

**Tal-vashoth:** Qunlat term. Translates as "True Grey One". A name for those who have abandoned the Qun.

**Ataash qunari:** Qunlat war cry, translates as "Victory for the Qun".

**Ebost esala, Sarebaas! Itwa-raas! Itwa-ost!: **Qunlat insult. Translates as "Your soul is dust! You are nothing! You are dead!"

**Atish'all vallem, Fen'heral elathadra:** Unknown elven greeting. Possible translation is "Welcome to the valley, Fen'heral's sanctuary."

**Nuvenas mana helanin, dirth bellasa ma:** Unknown elven phrase. Possible secret password.

**Virthar ma. Na din'nan sahlin:** Unknown elven orders. Possibly orders to attack.

**Andaran atish'an setharan. Ir'a vhenallin:** Elven greeting. Translates as "Greeting guardian. We are friends of the People."

**Eluvian:** Elven. Translates as "Mirror" or "Looking Glass".

**Evanuris:** Elven term. Translates as "Mage-Leader."

**Author's Note:**

**Alright! So I went and pulled off the impossible: I have placed all my Dragon Age heroes in a single place.**

**This arc is going to be so big, I just had to bring all three of them along for the ride.**

**This will be the end of Rajmael's story, so I decided to make it as big as possible.**

**This will be the longest story arc I have ever done, so I hope you all enjoy every bit of it.**

**Please review and tell me what you think.**


	45. Enemies In The Dark

**Enemies In The Dark**

Rajmael and the others walked back through the Crossroads and headed back to the mirror that lead to the Winter Palace. Rajmael felt his mark agitating him again, and stopped for a moment to catch his breath. As he leaned on a nearby shattered pillar, his mind raced with everything they had learned. Fen'Heral, the Dread Wolf and great enemy of his people, was a rebel and freedom fighter for elven slaves. How the gods of his people were not truly gods, but more akin to the Magisters who destroyed Elvhenan. Rajmael felt that horrid sting of betrayal once again, like he did when he encountered Flemeth. His heart filled up with so much anger, that he charged his fist full of lightning, and smashed the column he was leaning on to dust, yelling out his anger.

"Uh-oh." Iron Bull uttered

"Rajmael, what's wrong?!" Cassandra asked, greatly surprised by the Inquisitor's outburst. "Is it your mark?"

"No! No, it's not this mark, it's this!" Rajmael yelled, pointing at the place around them. "You saw what I saw with those mosaics. The Creators, our gods, they were...they were false. Never divine, just mortals posing as such. All of it...we were wrong."

Cassandra tried to counsel the Inquisitor. "Rajmael, I know what we learned there was difficult for you, but you cannot let it..."

"None of you could possibly understand!" Rajmael shouted furiously. "Our gods, our Creators, they're an inextricable part of my people's identity! We chose destruction and banishment from our own lands to continue worshiping them! Without them...what do we have? The Old Gods enslaved my people and used us for ritual sacrifices. And the Maker has never brought us anything except misery and shame! Our gods gave us strength, and pride...and it was all a lie..." Rajmael stared at his own hands with a sense of disgust and guilt as he remembered the blood that was stained on them. "Nethras gave his life for our gods. I...killed my own brother because he wanted to kill in the name of our gods...Nethras' life, my parents' lives, the entire history of my people, was all that in vain?"

Everyone remained silent, unable to give the Inquisitor an answer. To them, this was merely another mystery they were finding answers to, but to Rajmael, this was the destruction of everything he knew and revered his whole life. He dedicated himself to revering the elven culture and the worship of their gods, and his people lost so much to human ignorance and bigotry for wanting to adhere to those traditions. Now it seemed that all that dedication was for nothing. Rajmael's life, his brother's and his parents' life was for nothing.

"No. Their lives were never in vain. Not ever, Inquisitor." Hawke answered. "Your people have fought to maintain control of their identity, their destiny. A fight that has never ended, yet continues. Despite everything the world has done to your people, you carry on, and take the strength of your predecessors with you. If their lives have in any way influenced you, guided you into the man you are now, a man who has saved the world and brought glory to his people, then their lives had more meaning than anyone else could ever comprehend. Let that be their legacy."

"You think that the loss of your gods is something so horrible, but I say that your people are truly free." Aedan spoke out. A sense of surprise and curiosity drew from everyone. None would have expected the Hero to say anything that wasn't admonishing or threatening.

"Free?"

"Yes. Nothing to tether your destiny or hold back your potential. Too many in this world look to gods that have never shown their faces to the world to solve their problems, instead of looking to their own inner strength." Aedan pointed to the Crossroads around him, taking in the whole scenery. "Look around you! Look at what your people accomplished thousands of years before Andraste ever spoke of the Maker. I see the greatness and glory your people had, what you can become once again."

"It's true. After seeing this, I think the Imperium was just trying to copy the ancient elves." Dorian added.

"Strive to live up to your people's legacy, not the favor of empty gods." Aedan continued fervently. "All of this was made by elven hands, not the blessings of false or absent dieties. Instead of looking for gods to assist in your destiny, _become_ the gods of your fate."

In that very moment, Rajmael realized why these two humans were a couple of the most revered heroes alive in Thedas: it was their ability to inspire, to remind people of their own strength. Rajmael remembered when he was on the brink of death in his final confrontation with Corypheus, how he encountered the souls of all his loved ones and family members, how they gave him the strength to carry on, and sent him back to the land of the living. The gods were never there for him, but his people always had always been there for him, and still were. Rajmael was only ashamed that he needed two human warriors to remind him of that.

"Thank you, both of you. For reminding me of what matters." Rajmael said graciously.

"Don't mention it, Inquisitor." Hawke nodded.

"Now, let's get back to business. We still have a hostile foreign force to contend with." Aedan counseled.

**The Winter Palace**

The Inquistor and his companions all made it back through the mirror and into the abandoned storage house the eluvian was standing in. Cullen and his soldiers were waiting for them.

"Inquisitor, thank the Maker you're...wait." Cullen's eyes went as wide a wagon wheels. "Is that the Champion with you? What in Andraste's name is going on? It's like Tuesday back in Kirkwall!"

"Cullen, get Josephine and Leliana to our waiting room now, and secure this mirror." Rajmael ordered. "The situation is more dire than we first believed."

"At once, Inquisitor. But we need to be discreet." Cullen warned. "Your absence has been noted by the Exalted Council, and everyone wants to know just what is going on. Moving this mirror may be a problem. Maybe if we had a distraction...?"

"I've got an idea." Aedan spoke out, looking over to the Champion. "Sergeant, I need you to come with me."

Hawke followed after the Fereldan General outside, wondering what he wanted. Hopefully, it was nothing to violent. "What do you have in mind, General."

Aedan grabbed Hawke by the arm, and pulled him to where everyone could see him. "Hey, everyone! The Champion of Kirkwall is right over here! And he's signing autographs!"

Within seconds, a huge crowd of the attendees came screaming towards the dumbfounded Champion. Noblewomen ran out of their shoes and kicked up their skirts just to be the first to get close to Hawke.

"Oh, Champion! Sign my handkerchief!"

"Sign my chest!"

**"MARRY ME!"**

"Damn it all, not again!" Hawke cursed, and started running as fast as he could.

Aedan couldn't help but laugh at his handiwork. It was like watching a pack of starving dogs chasing after a fat cat. While the arduous crowd chased after the famous Champion, distracting everyone in the Winter Palace, Rajmael and Cullen quickly set to their tasks. Hopefully, Hawke could distract them without being torn apart by ravenous Orlesians.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael stood in the Inquisition's meeting Chamber with his War Council, including Leliana, and explained the situation to them. How the Qunari were performing some sort of operation to sneak agents into the Winter Palace. How the Qunari attacked them on sight, declaring for the death of the Inquisition, and Rajmael in particular. While this was no army of Red Templars trying to rip another hole in the sky, the Councilors were certainly not pleased with this turn of events.

"One dead qunari was bad enough. Now we have more, and they're hostile." Culle stated deeply agitated.

Josephine did her best to remain calm and kept a tight grip on her clipboard and quill. "But this makes no sense. The qunari may have no love for the Inquisition, but they certainly have no reason to attack us."

"They also have no reason to be here, or even using eluvians at all, Josie." Leliana added calmly.

"Something is definitely wrong. Almost disturbingly so." Cullen added deeply concerned. "The qunari _despise_ magic, in any way, shape or form. More so than the Chantry ever did. They see it as something chaotic and unnatural. Qunari standard procedure with magic is that if they can't control it, it is dangerous and must be destroyed. So they must be extremely desperate to be using such an ancient form of magic to do whatever it is they're attempting."

"What I want to know, is how in the blue fuck are these qunari even able to use the eluvians in the first place." Rajmael stated sharing Cullen's conern. "The Ancient Imperium tried to revive the eluvians, but only managed to make a few send messages through, and to a limited extent. And it took nearly ten years just to repair two eluvians, both done by powerful mages. Either the qunari have discovered something we don't know about, or something has activated these mirrors on their own."

"All of these are valid and dangerous concerns. Which is why I've had the mirror moved to a more secure location and placed under heavy guard. There'll be no more surprise coming out of that thing, Your Holiness." Cullen assured the Divine confidently.

"Culle, please, just call me Leliana." The Divine urged. "There's no need for such formality between friends."

"Yes, Your...er, Leliana."

Rajmael sighed a breath of depression. "So, once again outside forces are using the magic and legacy of my people to try and do harm, and we have to stop them. Story of my life."

"First the Blight, then the Mage-Templar War, then Corypheys, and no this." Cullen listed agitatedly. "Can't this Age go at least ten years without something trying to tear the world apart?"

"If that happened, guys like us would be out of a job." Aedan said sarcastically.

"We must make sure the qunari's presence do not disrupt the negotiations. The matter with the Exalted Council is in a delicate state right now." Josephine asserted firmly.

"I'm sure you can soothe the nobles' ruffled feathers while the rest of us handle the real problem, Ambassador." Cullen said, annoyed and not taking her concerns seriously.

"Not when the Inquisitor insults everyone present by walking out of the room right in the middle of the talks!" Josephine raised her voice, offended at the Commander's lack of respect for her concerns. "Right now, our only saving grace is that Orlais and Ferelden are divided in goal and grievance. If they unite against us, Divine Victoria will have no choice but to support their claims. We could lose everything!"

"I know we're putting a lot of pressure on you Josephine, and I wish we weren't in a situation to ask this of you, but I need you to do this." Rajmael implored. "I know you can handle these negotiations. You've handled the best of Thedas' politics for years."

"My apologies, Inquisitor." Josephine sighed, calming down." I will attend to the Exalted Council.

"Leave the matter of the Exlated Council to me, Cullen. I can handle them."

"And while Josie does that, we will investigate the situation." Divine Victoria asserted.

"_We_, Your Holiness?" Josephine questioned.

"You too, Josie?" Leliana sighed, deeply annoyed with her formality.

"I'll gather the others and head back to the Crossroads. Maybe we can find more answers to what the qunari are doing." Rajmael stated with determination. "We already averted several major disasters, I don't want the Exalted Council of the Winter Palace to be like the Conclave at the Temple of Sacred Ashes."

Rajmael walked out of their meeting chamber and made his way towards the tavern where is companions along with the Hero and the Champion were waiting for him. As he walked, something caught his eye like a grappling hook. Amongst the crowds of mingling nobles and hustling servants, Rajmael thought he saw someone who blended with them, yet somehow stood out to him. An elven woman with chestnut brown hair and dusky skin was looking at him from across the way with a sense of scorn in her deep green eyes.

Rajmael knew she looked familiar, but couldn't place her at moment, and something in his mind was screaming at him to remember like she was important. It was like an itch at the back of his mind that couldn't be scratched. He moved to go see her, but the instant he blinked, she was gone. Rajmael felt that itch in the back of his mind grow more irritable. Who was that woman, and why did she seem so familiar? It didn't matter, not now, anyway. Right now, Rajmael had more important matters to attend to.

**Meanwhile, in the Winter Palace Tavern...**

Aedan and Zevran were knocking back a few drinks with the Inquisitor's companions. Cole sat outside under the tavern's canopy, watching Maryden play her music and admiring her beauty. Varric set down another mug of beer at his table, like he was waiting for company to show up. Hawke finally managed to trudge into the tavern, looking exhausted and harried, and dying for a drink.

"Hey! Hawke, you made it! Glad to know you still got it." Varric chuckled, passing his old friend a tall, cold pint.

Hawke grabbed the ale and chugged down several powerful gulps before gasping for air and wiping his mouth with his arm. "And here I thought the fans back in the Free Marches were a pain, but these Orlesians are insane. I'm just glad I didn't run into Duke Cyril. That would have been extremely awkward."

Everyone sat back while the Inquisitor spoke with his War Council, trying to relax and wrap their minds around what they had seen and discovered. Some wanted to just drink until they forgot everything that transpired. While some wanted to satisfy a long held curiosity, now that both the Hero and the Champion were here.

"Hey, Hawke, how d'ya think Daisy's gonna take the news about what we saw at those ruins?" Varric asked with more concern than curiosity. "Because I'm pretty sure you're going to tell her. I mean, everything we saw there, the ruins, the valley, the Crossroads, all of that blew the shit out of anything they got in Orzammar, but the other stuff? The slaves and the elven gods, how do you think she'll take that."

This was a concern for Hawke. He loved Merrill immeasurably, and detested even the thought of hurting her, but he also knew her dedication to elven history and the truth, even if it was painful. "I don't know, Varric. Merrill loves her people and is dedicated to the truth, but often times, the truth can hurt. I know many elves who adhere to the old way will be crushed to learn of this, and they may even do everything they can to deny it. But I have seen how strong elves can be, and they have learned how to move on without gods helping them for millennia. I believe this is just another obstacle elvenkind can overcome."

"You don't think this diminishes the elves?" Varric continued. "I mean, for countless centuries, they've been trying to live up to a legacy they believed was perfect, something that made them feel proud, like they were better than the rest of the world that treats them like crap. Now we got proof that it isn't all that perfect."

"Trust me, I know from personal experience that trying to live up to an impossible standard set by an ancient legacy isn't what's best for everyone, even when the whole world's telling you otherwise." Dorian added insightfully.

"Well, as you all know, no culture in the world is perfect, despite their greatness." Hawke stated factually. "We humans are famous for treating everyone like crap because of racial or social differences, so we conquer, enslave and humiliate them. Look how the Chantry has treated mages and elves for almost two thousand years. Dwarven society only values family name and its strict caste system. Anyone born with neither is lower than dirt, so they're allowed to treat the Casteless like shit. And if, for any reason, you cannot or will not conform in qunari society, they lobotomize you and turn you into a mindless slave. So, really, no one is perfect, and therefore no one has the right to judge someone else for their culture and beliefs."

"All of you are acting as if you haven't seen this kind of thing before: praising someone with no divine power, centering religion around a false figure. Doesn't almost every other idiot in the South do the same thing?" Aedan said contemptuously, his words instantly grabbing the attention and ire of the others. "Almost everyone on this fucking continent worships a barbarian woman and her misbegotten, faceless god. Both, who as far I have seen, are false and empty."

"Really, General? Your disdain for religion of any sort is well-known, but must you truly be so antagonistic?" "Cassandra asked, deeply offended by the Hero's words. "Many people believe in Andraste's words and the Maker because it gives them faith and hope, that maybe their lives have meaning in this cruel world."

"Oh, here we go. I'm going to need another drink." Zevran groaned into his hands.

"Ha! Isn't that the pot calling the kettle black!" Aedan mocked. "And how often has the Chantry inflicted cruelty on to others for being of a different race or having a different creed? What do you say we ask the elves and the mages how kind your dipshit religion has been to them."

"Why? Why do you have so much hatred for Andrastian faith?" Cassandra practically demanded. "For elves and mages it is different, but what could the Chantry have done to you to make you hate it so much that you insult it every chance you get?"

"Absolutely _nothing_, and that's my problem with it." Aedan answered. "Neither Andraste or her useless Maker have done anything that has ever meant a damned thing. For all you know, Andraste was insane and the Maker was just a voice in her head. For all the victories she had, Andraste ultimately failed; died at the hands of her enemies after being betrayed by her husband, and the Maker never showed up. Not ever. At least the Imperium, the elves and even the dwarves actually had something substantial to give their faith to."

"What? You mean false gods that you would have only disgust for?" Cassandra asked argumentatively.

"I dislike all gods and religion equally, but at least their religious figures actually had a hand in their greatness." Aedan reasoned heatedly. "The Imperium had the Old Gods who made them the most powerful human empire in known history. The elves had these Evanuris, who possessed knowledge and power we don't truly know the extent of. And every Ancestor of the dwarves had accomplished something great to earn them reverence. Compared to that, your Maker is more like a fairytale made up by a dead failure who was burned alive."

That angry scowl Cassandra was famous for gripped her face fiercely while Aedan mockingly grinned at her anger, taking it as a challenge. This debate was probably going to take a rather violent turn.

"Hey I gotta question for you and the Champion here." Iron Bull announced to the two legendary heroes, trying to stop a holy war from breaking out in the tavern. "Outta of the two o' you, who do you thinks got the bigger kill record?"

Aedan pointed to himself, and Hawke also pointed to Aedan.

"Oh, come on, Hawke. Really?! Selling yourself a little short there aren't you?" Varric asked, genuinely surprised with his friend.

"Just being realistic. Unlike some, I haven't spent most of my life at war with everything." Hawke answered honestly.

"It's true. You wouldn't believe the amount of creatures, people, and monsters I have killed in the course of my life." Aedan stated factually. "If every life I took was a brick, I could've built myself three palaces by now."

"Okay, here's another one: which one of you two do you guys think gets the most tail?" Iron Bull asked with an amused grin.

This time, Hawke raised his hand and Aedan also pointed to him.

"Ha! Like that was ever in question." Varric laughed.

"Even before I was Champion, or met Merrill and Isabella, the only time I ever slept alone in a bed was when I_ chose_ to, and that wasn't very often." Hawke bragged with a triumphant grin. "After I became Champion, I had to have Bodahn put a lock on my door so I could start getting some sleep."

"I'm in a committed relationship." Aedan answered flatly. "And being unfaithful to the mother of my son would be...detrimental to my health."

Everyone, except for Zevran, was stunned by not only of the prospect that Aedan seemed fearful of a woman, but the fact that he had a son. And they were all slightly worried about what kind of progeny such a union would yield. Before any of them could take a moment to take in this discovery, the Inquisitor entered the tavern, and it didn't look like he was here for a drink.

"Hey, you can all get wasted and shitfaced on your own time." Rajmael instructed. "Right now, we've still got magic mirrors to explore and hostile qunari to find."

All of them rose from their seats and followed after the Inquisitor, right after taking one last drink. If they were going to traipsing through magic mirrors through different planes of reality, some of them were going to need a little liquid courage. After they had consumed enough alcohol to make this ordeal tolerable they followed after the Inquisitor back through the eluvian.

**The Crossroads...**

As they walked back into the space between spaces that was the Crossroads, where the rules of reality were diluted with the laws of the Fade. The floating islands carrying shattered elven ruins and their eluvians suspended within a vast nothingness was still a sight none of them were used to. However, there was something different this time. There were massive land paths connecting between two of the islands that wasn't there before. It connected the island that held the mirror to the Valley of the Dread Wolf to the island opposite of them, it too had an eluvian.

"Hey, that wasn't here before." Varric noted, he wasn't buzzed the last time he came here.

"Someone was able to raise that bridge. Wonder how they pulled that off?" Ranier questioned.

"Well, maybe we can ask those armed, musclebound men running across it." Hawke said, pointing his finger to a group of armed qunari running across the bridge to the eluvian on the other side.

"Hey! Benabas toh hassot!" Iron Bull tried to call out to his former qunari brethren, but they just kept running. "Hmm. Guess they didn't feel like talking."

"Then I guess we're going to have to do this the old fashioned way: chase them down, beat 'em up, and then get the answers out of them." Rajmael resolved.

Everyone chased after the qunari across the recently erected land path that connected the islands. The eluvian the qunari ran through was still open, but it felt different; Rajmael could feel it radiating a different kind of energy than the previous one. The first eluvian felt warm and serene, like walking into a green valley on warm spring day. This one felt dark, cold. Like it lead to a place where sunlight never touched it. Well, there was only one way to found out where it lead. Taking a deep breath, Rajmael was the first to step through the eluvian.

**Somewhere Unknown...**

Rajmael and the others came through to the other side of the eluvian and found themselves in what appeared to be some kind of elven ruin. However, unlike the first one, this ruin was dark, cold, surrounded by stone. The ruins here weren't erected, but carved into the very stone.

"Holy shit. The eluvian took us underground. Deep underground. I daresay we're beneath the Deep Roads." Aedan observed.

"How can you tell?" Ranier asked curiously.

"Well, I was an actual Grey Warden for a long time, and the presence of the taint underground, even if you were never a Warden, is something you never forget." Aedan answered, still getting a sense of his surroundings.

"Reminds me of that Primeval Thaig we discovered all those years ago with Batrand." Hawke recalled. "I don't see any evidence of dwarves ever even being here. No statues of Paragons, their lanterns, not even their architecture is here."

"I remember, Hawke. It's what set you on the path of becoming the Champion. What I want to know, is why in the name of Andraste's knickers would an elven mirror lead this far underground. I mean, I thought the only people nutty enough to voluntarily live down here was the dwarves." Replied Varric.

"Whatever this place is, I don't think it's seen any visitors until recently." Rajmael observed. "This place, its feels as ancient as that Valley did. And look at this architecture, this was another place my ancestors visited."

"Which begs to question why the ancient elves would ever want to come here. There must have been something they wanted here, or something they_ hid_ here." Cassandra reasoned.

"Maybe we'll find out further inside. Those Qunari we saw looked like they were in a pretty big hurry." said the Iron Bull.

They didn't have very far to walk to find their quarry. Just up ahead outside the entrance to the cavernous ruin was a squad of qunari soldiers. And they looked less happy than qunari usually do.

"You, who serve Fen'heral, the Qun demands your death!" The Sten yelled ferociously as he and his fellow warriors charged the Inquisition. The qunari spearmen threw their javelins while the rogues tried to flank them from the sides. Soldiers of the baresaad were some of the most fearsome and disciplined warriors in Thedas, but they had never encountered anything like Aedan Cousland, the Iron Bull, or Cassandra Pentaghast. They quickly made minced meat out of the soldiers with their very sharp and well used weapons.

The spearmen's job was to focus on the threats that could attack from further away, like archers or sarebaas. And sarebaas were always the first thing they targeted. Sadly, these soldiers were on a level far beneath the likes of Dorian and Vivienne. The Northern and Southern mages sundered the qunari soldiers with their respective spells of fire and ice. The lesson to be had here was if you're going to battle mages this powerful with nothing but throwing spears, like some kind of caveman, the smart thing to do was run.

Zevran's whole childhood and adolescence was filled with grueling training and life threatening tests to make him into an Antivan Crow. One of the first lessons they ever covered was learning how to fight in the dark with a blindfold on, so fighting these qunari throat-cutters in the dark was no ordeal for him. Nor Cole for that matter; he could still sense those who wish to inflict pain on others and could feel where their attacks were coming from. The two knife-wielding inhabitants of the shadows engaged in a brief dance with their opponents, which ended with the qunari falling down dead in silence, with their arteries sliced open, and bled to death on the floor.

"Did you hear what those qunari said? They think we serve Fen'heral. Why the hell would they think that?" Rajmael asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Real qunari are atheist and seek to abolish religion, but why would they want to kill you for supposedly following one elven god?" Hawke wondered.

"I suspect we'll find the answer to that question and why the qunari are here further inside." Aedan concluded.

They all delved further into the caverns and found evidence that the qunari they just killed were trying to excavate a cave-in. Probably trying find another way into the caves, but as to why, was anyone's guess.

Whatever this place was, it was definitely not dwarven but elven. The architecture here was the same as the Valley of the Dread Wolf: graceful and serene with a deeply aesthetically pleasing aura, despite being in ruins underground. There were also elven styled statues depicting dragons and wolves, representing Mythal and Fen'heral, just like the ones back in the Temple of Mythal. It seemed like it was another temple, but there had to have been more to this place than just worship. Just what kind of place is this, and why were the qunari even here?

All of them tried to be careful and watched their footing. It was extremely dark down here, with very little light.

"Argh! What's wrong with this place! Don't dwarven ruins always have light from lava or glowing rocks or fungus, or something!?" Varric cursed when he stubbed his toe in the dark.

"I don't think this place is dwarven, Varric. The people who built this place weren't trying accommodate your people." Hawke responded blithely.

"Yeah? Well, it's dark, it's creepy, there's things trying to kill me, and worst of all, it's underground. Cripes, I can feel myself getting dwarfier by the minute. I think might just sprout a beard." Varric complained.

"Yes, yes, we know, you hate all things dwarven." Hawke sighed wearily. "And family gatherings, the entire Merchant's Guild, telling the truth about Bianca."

"And caves, and the outdoors, and magic. Heights greater than five feet." Cassandra continued.

"Orlesians, Nevarrans, Fereldans, mages, Templars, nugs..." Vivienne listed.

"And slopes, uneven ground. The dark. Pretty much all kinds of weather that isn't sunny and warm..." Iron Bull went on.

"Orlesian cafes, taverns that are too tidy, ruins that are too dirty..." Dorian droned.

"Also the quiet. Most kinds of smells. Rain. Water in general..." Blackwall added.

"The sea. The _smell_ of the sea. _'Who made the ground vertical.' _Mountains covered in dead." Cole mimicked.

"And pretty much anything that isn't hearing yourself talk." Sera finished sarcastically.

"Look, I have to complain, otherwise you'd forget I'm here and trip over me. I'm providing a service!" Varric justified.

"Better to hear a dwarfs constant complaints to know he's there is a sight better than having to smell his rancid odor and he wish he wasn't." Zevran commented. "Ugh. Oghren had a stench that could fell an ogre."

"There, you see? Even the professional assassin get it." Varric laughed.

"No, actually. I don't see. Not a fucking thing." Aedan stated. It was pitch black, and the further they went, the darker it got, and none of them were smart enough to bring a damn torch with them.

Rajmael looked at his left hand, the mark glowing in his palm. "Hmm. Maybe the Anchor can make itself useful down here."

The Inquisitor charged his magic through the Anchor and bright green light emanated from his palm like a torch, illuminating their path. Now they could find their way through her without getting lost or falling down a hole. They navigated their way further into the depths of this shattered underground ruin, and still no sign of their quarry.

The more they walked, the more obvious it became that this was some

"Everyone, quiet!" Rajmael ordered. "Do you hear that?"

The Inquisitor's pointy ears twitched as they picked up a faint sound echoing in the dark.

Within moments, it became loud enough for everyone to hear it. It sounded like some sort of skittering. Like many sharp fingernails tapping on the stone floor, followed by high-pitched snarling and growls. Within seconds, they saw dozens of nocturnal eyes glimmering in the darkness. Small lizard-like creatures with a wormy body on top of four scrawny legs and a disgusting maw of teeth circling at the end of their muzzles. Deepsstalkers, a whole pack of them.

The packs of deepstalkers growled and chittered, spitting their venom at their would-be prey.

"Aw, shit! I hate deepstalkers, too!" Varric yelled.

"Move, I'll handle this." Aedan said as he stepped in front and handed his axe over to Zevran, looking deeply annoyed with this creatures.

Rajmael wondered what the hell Aedan was doing. He had dealt with deepstalkers before, and he had the advantage of magic. Anyone without magic who strayed from the group to face not one pack but several of them was suicidal. They may be small, but numbers can overwhelm. However, Aedan wasn't just anybody.

Before the deepstalkers could get close enough to even smell him, Aedan stomped his boot to the ground so hard the tiles shattered, and a sickly red aura surrounded him like a shadow. His eyes burned like coals and he snarled at the pack of carrion creatures like an angry animal.

The deepstalkers stopped dead in their tracks at the sight of the snarling human, and their voracious hunger instantly turned into terror. They turned their tails and ran as fast as they could from Aedan, whimpering in fear as they went. The deepstalkers had been scared so badly, that they ran off the nearby ledge and threw themselves into the cavernous abyss below.

"Sweet Maker, what did you do to those creatures?" Cassandra asked, unable to believe what they had all just seen.

"I've never seen deepstalkers run away, let alone run to their deaths." said Varric, sharing Cassandra's surprise.

"At this point, I think it should be painfully obvious that I am very good at scaring the living shit out of anything." Aedan answered evasively.

"Man, if that's your scary face, I don't want to know what your poker face is like." Iron Bull chuckled.

"Oh, trust me, my musclebound friend, you haven't seen Aedan's scary face yet, and you don't want to. Maker knows I wish I didn't." Zevran warned sarcastically.

"Scared is exactly what I think those deepstalkers were in the first place." Hawke spoke out thoughtfully. "Deepstalkers don't run in such huge packs because they usually eat each other. Something has driven them out. We should keep pressing forward."

**~XoXoXo~**

The group did as Hawke suggested, and soon enough they came upon excavated caves with torches burning, lighting the way forward. There were ramparts built around the cave walls, and evidence of people digging here. They all stopped dead in their tracks when they came upon an illuminated tunnel that had been cut off from the rest of the excavation. It was sealed by a wall of strange blue fire. They could see several charred skeletons of the unfortunate souls that were unlucky enough to have been burned by it. Whatever this flame was, it didn't give off any heat, yet somehow reduced these bodies to bone and ash incredibly quick. Natural fire didn't burn as fast, or as quietly.

"Great. More magic crap." Iron Bull grumbled.

"I think we now know what scared those deepstalkers." Hawke deduced. "Most beasts are naturally scared of fire, but this? Even grown men with the IQ of a stump would have enough sense to stay away from it."

"This isn't like any fire spell I've ever seen. Most fire spells dissipate after they are cast, but this one feels like it has been burning for a while, now." Vivienne observed curiously."

"I'm not sure it's actual fire to begin with." Dorian added.

"Strange. It feels like...veilfire. Except it's different." Rajmael observed, trying to get a sense of what kind of magic this was. "Veilfire alone is harmless, used to hide and inscribe knowledge magically, but it can be manipulated for offensive purposes, like with my sword. But the enchantment on the Enasalin allows my blade to bypass armor and physical objects, and deal spirit damage. This fire actually burned it's victims into nothing. I don't even think it can be doused magically. This is something very old and powerful. Some sort of manipulation of spirit magic."

"Yeah? Maybe we can get some answers up ahead. Look." Ranier pointed ahead at the end of the tunnel where they could see lights.

There seemed to be some kind of bonfire at the end of the tunnel, a camp perhaps. Rajmael could see shadows moving in the distance; someone was over there. Rajmael could almost make out the figure in the dark with his keen eyes.

"Look, someone ahead. I think he's human." Rajmael led the others forward and dropped into the makeshift camp at the end of the tunnel. The figure here was indeed human, oddly enough. When he realized he wasn't alone, the man jumped to his feet in shock. and brandished a sword.

"Stay back! I'm warning you, I won't...wait. Your hand. Are you the Inquisitor?" The human asked when he saw Rajmael's glowing left hand. "And blessed Andraste, is that the Champion of Kirkwall with you?"

"I didn't expect to find a shemlen this far in underground, let alone surrounded by qunari." Rajmael remarked.

"You don't know the half of it." The man responded nervously. "Listen, we do not have a lot of time. Please, what the Viddasala is doing is madness. She must be stopped."

"The Viddasala? That's a high-ranking Ben-hessrath agent, specializing in magic. Finding. Studying. Stopping." Iron Bull explained, the title striking a chord in his memory.

"Not anymore." The man said morosely. "Look, I don't care if you serve Fen'heral or not. Someone has to stop her."

Rajmael felt that angry thing at the back of his mind wake up at the implication that he served the Dread Wolf for a second time, but he kept it under control. "Just what the fuck makes the qunari think that the Inquisition serves Fen'heral?"

The man gave an confused shrug, like he was just as puzzled about it as the Inquisitor was. "I don't know. The Viddasala said it, and well...you're Dalish. It made about as much sense as anything else did."

"Tch. I didn't think the qunari were such racist pricks." Zevran scoffed. "Just because someone's an elf, they must be a servant or worshiper of an ancient god."

"We've had agents of Fen'heral causing us trouble all over the Crossroads." The stranger explained. "Sabotage, setting traps, making spirits attack us. They lit those strange blue fire walls to cut us off from any lyrium veins we discovered. I assumed the Inquisition was their army. That you came here because Fen'heral told you to."

"Fen'heral is a lie! A failed myth from a bygone era!" Rajmael rejected angrily. "I serve no one!"

"The Viddasala thinks you do. And she's ordered all qunari under her command to kill you if you interfere."

Hawke looked at the stranger curiously. "Your accent sounds familiar. You're from Kirkwall, aren't you?"

"Once upon a time." The man answered apprehensively. "My name is Jerran. Ser Jerran, once. I was Templar stationed in Kirkwall. Until I joined the Qun."

"You're qunari?" Hawke repeated, rather shocked at this truth.

"Andraste's ass. If Meredith had a grave, she'd probably be turning in it right now." Varric commented, shaking his head.

"Ugh, great. A Templar _and_ qunari. Two of the things I hate the most rolled up into one big ball of wussy." Aedan groaned disdainfully.

"How can this be? Why would a sword of the faith turn away from the Chant of Light? From Andraste?" Cassandra asked with woeful disbelief.

"Because the Chantry caused more problems than it solved, Seeker." The former Templar answered honestly. "The Qun offers a strength and equality that the Chantry lacks. Kirkwall was madness, chaos. The qunari were like the eye of the storm. I stand for order and discipline, protecting the innocent from magic, but this...it's as mad as Meredith ever was."

"What do you mean the Viddasala is mad? Has she stopped doing her duty?" Rajmael inquired.

"Quite the reversal, actually." Jerran revealed. "This place, this entire operation here, it's a lyrium processing facility. The Viddasala discovered it, and she's using it to...do you know what a sarebaas is?"

"Yeah, it means _'dangerous thing'_. S'what the Qun calls mages." Iron Bull answered.

"A very apt name for them, too." Hawke added. "The Qunari use them as living weapons. When their gaatlok and canons can't destroy something, they use their sarebaas to do it. They wield a type of primal magic and destructive spells that are unlike anything I've ever encountered. It's all the Qun allows their mages to know."

Jerran nodded his head at Hawke's words. "Even as a Templar, I had never seen anything like the kind of power a sarebaas can unleash. Now the Viddasala is giving them lyrium. And lots of it, to make them even more destructive. It's part of some plan she's calling _'The Dragon's Breath'_."

"That's a load of utter crap! There is no way the Viddasala would ever let a sarebaas within even a thousand feet of lyrium." Iron Bull rebuked.

"There's more to it than that, but I couldn't find out what. The qunari don't like it when you ask too many questions." Jerran admitted.

"What is this place, and why are their elven mirrors in the Deep Roads?" Rajmael inquired.

"This place it's...well, I guess you could say that it's like lyrium spring. The more we mine, the more their seems to be. As for the mirror, I don't know. Maybe the ancient elves were mining her, too."

"What I want to know is why the qunari would even bring a Templar with them." Dorian spoke out.

"The qunari wanted me to teach them...everything I know about lyrium. Where it comes from, everything it can do, how we put it to use. I knew enough from my time with the Order. They figured out more, but I don't know how. Maybe they got help from the Carta."

"That's crazy talk." Varric denied. "The Carta may be a bunch of motherless moss-lickers, but they wouldn't help anyone who might move in on the lyrium trade. And lyrium's fatal to anyone dumb enough to mine who isn't a dwarf."

"You're right. It killed the qunari at first, but qunari workers have a discipline only the Tranquil can match. And they're quick learners, too. They figured it quick."

"If there's really that much lyrium, the qunari could probably make a fortune large enough to outfit the entire Antaam. They could afford to anger the Carta." Dorian suggested.

"Only if they wanted to fight Orzammar tooth and nail over it." Varric insisted. "There's no way they'd ever let anyone outdo them on the lyrium market."

"Oh, and how would Orzammar fight the Qunari?" Dorian asked argumentatively. "I doubt there are Deep Roads all the way back in Par Vollen for them to fight in."

"They'd probably financially back up the Imperium, outfit them with enough lyrium and weapons to make the qunari back off. Trust me, they got the money to do it." Varric pointed out.

Aedan grunted in his throat impatiently. "Let's get to the heart of the matter: what is this Viddasala doing that is so bad that you'll turn your back on the people you sold yourself to and go running off like a coward, again."

Jerran hung his head in shame at Aedan's words, for he had turned his back on the people and cause he had given his life for, not once but twice. "Dragon's Breath, it's the Viddasala's plan. She said it would _'save the South'_. That can only mean one thing: invasion. And when the qunari invade, it destroys everything in its path, like dragon's breath."

"Bullshit!" Iron Bull tried to deny. "The qunari wouldn't be launching an invasion right now. They just wouldn't!"

"Why not? The qunari have been trying to conquer Thedas ever since they landed here in the Storm Age." Hawke debated. "With the South still weak from Corypheus, now would be a perfect time to launch an invasion."

"If the qunari did that, they'd find all of Thedas united against them." Ranier pointed out. "Even they couldn't hope to win a war with the whole continent fighting them."

"It wouldn't be the first time the qunari fought off all the forces of Thedas." Hawke reminded dourly. He remembered very well the power of the qunari's military.

"I don't know the full details of the plan, but I know this lyrium mine is crucial to the Viddasala's plan, and this is the only lyrium mine they have." Jerran informed. "They're using gaatlok, massive round casks of explosive powder, to mine, so they don't touch the raw lyrium. If you get the primers from central supply, you can prime the gaatlok and detonate it. This whole mine will go up in flames."

"Where is this central supply?" Zevran asked.

"It's at the very heart of this facility. In some sort of ancient ruined temple the elves built down here." Jerran answered. "It will be heavily guarded, but I think you can handle it. Deepstalkers and cave-ins will cut off reinforcements, but they'll still come when they hear trouble."

"If this works, will it stop the Viddasala's plan?" Rajmael asked.

"It's a start." Jerran answered honestly. "She needs this facility as part of her plan. Destroy it, and you might cripple her entire operation, for a while at least. I wouldn't doubt that she has back up plans."

With this information, their purpose was now clear. If the qunari were really planning an invasion and this mine was key to this Dragon's Breath plan, they had to destroy it. They didn't go through all that pain and horror of stopping Corypheus just to let the qunari swoop down and finish the job. Swooping is bad.

"There's no telling how bad the cave-ins will get once the mines are destroyed. You'd better get out of here fast." Rajmael told the former qunari.

"I will. Good luck, Inquisitor." Jerran bade. He went down the path they all just came from, running as fast as he could."

"Hmph. You should have just killed him, Inquisitor." Aedan snorted.

"Is that your solution to everything: kill it, even if it helped you?" Rajmael asked.

"The man's a twice-turned traitor. You can't trust someone like that." Aedan reasoned. "If he can betray the religions that he gave his soul to, what do you think he might do to you? I would have killed him on principle, if not for safety."

"Well. we can have this argument another time when we're not deep underground and surrounded by hostile qunari planning an invasion." Rajmael responded. "Right now, we have a lyrium mine to destroy and some carefully laid plans to ruin. Let's go."

**~XoXoXo~**

All of them pressed further into the mine, following the path to the Central Facility the qunari made through the tunnels. It was getting cramped in the tunnels, forcing them to be careful how they navigated through it. Iron Bull was having the most difficulty. Because of his immense size and his large horns, and because of the darkness of the tunnel, Iron Bull had a hard time moving through the cramped tunnel. Several times he scraped his horns on the jagged roof and nearly tripped over a rock.

"Grr! I keep banging my horns on this crap. At this rate, I'm going to chip them or something." Iron Bull grumbled.

"Would you like me to go first?" Cassandra offered jokingly.

"I wouldn't mind the view." Iron Bull answered, making Cassandra laugh.

"Are you comfortable fighting qunari, knowing they are hostile to the Inquisition, Iron Bull?" Cassandra asked.

"I'm not qunari anymore, haven't been for two years. Whatever they're doing, I'm ready to stop." Iron Bull promised.

"Yeah? Well, I hope you're more than ready, because it looks like we've got several boatloads of 'em to deal with." Ranier stated as they emerged from the tunnel.

Across the cavernous underground gorge, they could see the entire operation the qunari were working. Massive columns of rock bigger than castle towers were being excavated. Torches blazing everywhere, shedding the darkness and revealing everything that was going on. Dozens upon dozens of miners chipping at the rocks with their tools, soldiers on patrol, and laborers moving as much rock and material as they could with cranes. The sheer number of people working and guarding this place was almost overwhelming.

"Ashante kaffas. The qunari operation here is massive. How many people do they have working this place?" Dorian said astounded.

"If they're harvesting this much lyrium, they've got to be up to something big. And it's always right before and during times of war that production of resources is at its highest." Aedan spoke factually.

Dorian looked at the scene before them with a deeply disturbed look on his face. "I've lived with the qunari threat hanging over my head my entire life. If this were to spill into the rest of Thedas now, I don't think the South would be prepared for it."

"That's what we're here for, Sparkler. And we've got three of the greatest heroes in Thedas at our sides." Varric said confidently. "We'll kick this guys' asses back to Par Vollen, then head to the nearest tavern to knock some drinks. Right, Hawke?"

"Damned right. Just like back in Kirkwall." Hawke laughed. "We're gonna need to find a bigger tavern, though."

Aedan noticed a stream of water trickling down from the cave roof above them. Drawn by curiosity, he held out his hand and caught some of the water before bringing it to his lips and tasted it. The instant the water touched his tongue, Aedan spat it out because of it's terribly bitter taste.

"Ptui! Salt water? Oh, holy shit..." Realization suddenly smacked Aedan upside the head like a club. "Guys, I think we're beneath the sea."

Everyone quickly became aware at just how dire their situation was.

"Wait. We're underground and under the ocean? This...isn't...good." Sera shuddered.

"Great. Two of the worst places I never wanted to possibly die in. Why can't we ever face danger some place nice, maybe sunny?" Varric complained.

"That explains why the ancient elves used those mirrors to get here. I don't imagine they swam done here to harvest the lyrium." Ranier commented.

"We must take care when we set off those explosives." Vivienne warned. "It's bad enough that we must worry about cave-ins, now we must concern ourselves with getting out before this place floods."

Rajmael drew his sword and charged his magic, his eyes burning and ready to fight. "We'll worry about being drowned later. Right now, we have other problems to deal with!"

The Inquisitor pointed to a patrol of qunari soldiers coming their way. Seeing the Inquisition in their operation caught the horned soldiers off guard.

"It's the Inquisition! Sound the alarm!" One of the soldiers ordered. Varric shot in arrow into the soldier's head before he could make another sound.

Rajmael noticed the qunari were moving several casks of gaatlok. Not the ones big enough to destroy this facility, but enough to serve his purpose now. He charged a bolt of lightning through his sword and fired it right at the gaatlok barrels near the qunari. The barrels exploded in a great ball of fire, setting the qunari on fire and sent them flying down into cavernous abyss, their screams echoing throughout the cave.

"Well, that's going to attract some attention. We need to get moving and set off this explosives, fast." Rajmael urged.

The Inquisitor wasn't wrong. Within moments, more soldiers came charging towards them when they heard the explosions. They got into a tight formation, locking their immense tower shields and effectively blocked off any way forward. The qunari threw their javelins and lobbed their grenades at the intruders, effectively preventing them from pressing forward, and forcing the Inquisitor and his companions to fall back and take cover. The qunari held the superior position in this fight.

Sadly, the qunari were all standing where all the water was falling from the roof, and the puddle spilled right over to where Rajmael was standing. The Arcane Warrior stabbed his sword into the wet ground and used his magic to charge a powerful current of electricity through the water the qunari were standing in. The qunari all screamed in agony as the electricity surged through their bodies, singeing their flesh and boiling their blood with such intensity their eyeballs exploded out of their skulls. While the qunari were held in this horrible pain, Varric and Sera took the opportunity to shoot them in the heads and hearts, mercifully ending their suffering.

With these qunari dead, it was time to press forward, but Rajmael knew that going on like this wasn't going to get the job done. It was time to change tactics.

"We can't stay in such a large group. The qunari will just box us in and cut us off again." Rajmael said strategically. "We need to split up into three groups and take different paths to the central facility. One group will follow the Hero, the other will follow the Champion, and the rest come with me."

"Leading yet another group of misfits into dark, unknown territory in the Deep Roads while it's full of hostiles trying to kills us. Feels like I'm having a case of deja vu." Hawke said nostalgically.

"Story of my life." Aedan agreed.

"Oh, and first person to get there before everyone else gets to raid my liquor closet." Rajmael offered as incentive. "Now, move!"

**~XoXoXo~**

Vivienne, Ranier and obviously Varric, followed after Hawke. After so long of not fighting at his best friends side, Varric wasn't going to miss the chance to finally fight alongside him, even if it was into the Deep Roads, and under the bottom of the ocean. Ranier was the former Champion of Tantervale, yet he never had nearly as much accomplishment or notoriety as the Champion of Kirkwall, and was eager to see what he was capable of. Vivienne had heard all of the tales the gossip-mongers, mummers and bards in Orlais had told of Garret Hawke, and wanted to see if the skill of the man whose actions were at the epicenter of the Mage-Templar war was on par with his reputation.

Aedan charged down his chosen path the central facility in full force, Zevran, Dorian and Iron Bull not far behind him. Zevran had been watching Aedan's back since their adventures during the Blight, and the last thing he was ever going to allow was letting these horn-headed oxmen stab one of his few living friends in the back. For Dorian, after seeing what the Hero of Ferelden did to that entire qunari death squad back in the Valley of the Dread Wolf, he couldn't think of a safer place to be than behind one of the most destructive mass killer in the South. As for Iron Bull, he always wanted to see the Hero of Ferelden in action and compare their killing prowess.

Cassandra refused to be separated from Rajmael. After seeing how painfully the Anchor in his hand had crippled him back in the Valley of the Dread Wolf, she was more scared than she had ever been for what it could do to him. If anything happened here, Cassandra wanted to make sure she was there to protect her lover. Cole knew the pain the Inquisitor was going through, and wanted to make sure he could help him in any way he could. He may no longer have been a spirit, but helping his friends was still his purpose in life. And as for Sera, well, following the Inquisitor was probably the least creepiest guy to follow down here. She heard how the so-called Hero liked to eat other people, and trouble and weird stuff stuck to the Champion like stink on a donkey's ass. She wasn't in the mood to see any other weirdness.

With all of them split into three groups, the qunari who were meeting the threat were forced to divvy up their numbers and had a more difficult time trying to corner them.

Hawke and Varric were both used to fighting qunari together, their movements were practically in sync with each other. Hawke would break the qunari ranks and slice through their shields and armor with the Celebrant while Varric kept the qunari from flanking and overwhelming the Champion by having Bianca fire his favorite exploding bolts at them. Knowing about the qunari's natural weakness for the cold, Vivienne used her trademark ice spells to freeze the hostile soldiers right where they stood, allowing Ranier to shatter them like glass with his mace. The qunari were unable to get a superior position on them, allowing them to press forward.

Aedan and Zevran fought side by side. The Hero with his axe, and the assassin with his daggers. The two of them had performed this dance for many years on many battlefields. Aedan would attack the enemy with his utter rage and intimidating tactics then decimate them with his axe, then Zevran would sneak through the shadows to cut their tendons and arteries while they were distracted. Iron Bull and Dorian mimicked this tactic. Balls of fire spat from Dorian's staff, lighting up the darkness with such intensity that it the qunari. They covered their eyes as well as their bodies from the fireballs by raising their shields in front of them. Unfortunately, they blinded themselves to the massive tal-vashoth mercenary who came at them swinging his axe and knocked them off the edge. With these guards disposed of, they all charged onward, mowing down any enemy that stood in their way.

Rajmael and his group took the main path to the central facility. He could hear the fighting and noise the other two squads were making, but for his group had yet to encounter anything. Strange. Given how badly the qunari wanted to kill him, Rajmael thought he'd be the primary target, but they had yet to run into any trouble.

"Everyone, halt!" Rajmael ordered. They was still no sign of their enemy, and they were about to walk into a dark tunnel that seemed empty and silent. It was the perfect place to lay an ambush. "Wait here. I'm going to check this out."

"Are you sure that's a wise idea, Inquisitor?" Cassandra asked with deep concern.

"It's really dark in there." Cole reminded.

"If I were these guys, this is exactly where I'd launch an ambush." Rajmael informed. "I'm going to make sure that it's safe."

"Just be careful, Rajmael." Cassandra bade.

"Yeah, and you might wanna make it fast. At this rate, all them's gonna clear out your booze-closet." Said Sera.

"Just wait for my signal." Rajmael instructed as he walked into the tunnel.

Rajmael drew Enasalin from his hip but didn't activate its Veilfire; he didn't want to be an easy target in the dark. His eyes scanned the darkness, and so far, he couldn't see anything. However, he did hear something. It was so faint, but it was there. It was as soft as moth wings fluttering in the air, and it was coming right at him.

A searing pain swiped across Rajmael's back, face and chest in the dark, leaving three deep cuts on his body. Rajmael bit down on his own lip to keep himself from making a sound. Now he knew he wasn't alone in here, and it was indeed an ambush. Felt like three blades belonging to three different owners had just cut him. Rajmael's body radiated brightly as he used his magic to heal the cuts he sustained.

"You are blind, Inquisitor." A cold voice whispered. "The qun will bring the light."

"You cannot see the truth." A second voice added. "The qun will make the South see."

"Asit tal-eb. It must be." Hissed the third. "You cannot even see the true threat in front of you."

Cassandra and the others heard the once silence tunnel became full of the sound of blades cutting through the air and flesh being sliced. Fresh blood sprayed out of the cave and a loud thud fell to the floor. Cassandra, Cole and Sera rushed into the tunnel when it erupted with light, taking that as the signal Rajmael told them to watch for. They rushed in and found Rajmael flicking blood off his sword as he stood above half a dozen slain qunari assassins, their daggers still gripped in their hands and their blood flowing on to the floor.

There was one qunari assassin still alive. There was blood from her mouth and she gripped her own throat tightly to try and stop the bleeding from the wound the Inquisitor inflicted on her. She vainly tried to reach for the dagger she used to cut the Inquisitor the first time, only for the Dalish elf to kick it away from her and pressed his foot on her chest. She looked up at him, her eyes burning with anger but also a glint of confusion. How? How did she and all her sisters end up like this when they had the advantage?

Rajmael saw the look on the dying qunari's face and decided to answer her dying curiosity. "Little fun fact before you die, bitch: Elves can see in the dark. Your ambush was pretty crappy." The Inquisitor swiped his blade across the dying qunari's neck and severed her head from her shoulders, then sheathed his sword back on his hip. "Well, that was fun. Now, let's get going. I really don't feel like having my wine cabinet pilfered after spending years collecting it."

**~XoXoXo~**

All of them raced towards the central facility, decimating any and all opposition that stood in their way. The qunari were expecting the Inquisitor, but never the Hero of Ferelden or the Champion of Kirkwall. The enemy never stood a chance. More importantly, each group pressed on as hard as they could, all of them wanting a shot the Inquisitor's legendary liquor cabinet. That securely locked pantry held some of the rarest and most exotic beverages in all of Thedas. None of them could turn down a chance to raid it.

Sadly, they all made it to the entrance at the same time, where another massive squad of qunari soldiers was waiting for them. The soldier were standing on the bridge leading to the central facility, all locked in a tight formation with their tower shields, effectively blocking the only way in. Each qunari soldier refused to budge, and ready to fight to the death for every inch of ground they stood on.

All three squads stopped where they were as Rajmael, Hawke and Aedan walked on to the bridge, ready to take that bridge themselves. When those three legendary, powerful figures stood before the enemy, their weapons drawn, the qunari felt that terrible, almost foreign sensation that many of them were trained to suppress: fear. For in the briefest of seconds, every qunari soldier realized that they were going to die.

Rajmael took a tremendous leap over the qunari and used his sword to create a glyph in midair that sent a powerful bolt of lightning down on the enemy. The blast was so powerful it knocked many of them off the bridge, breaking their tight formation, and electrocuted the rest of them into painful paralysis. Rajmael landed right in the middle of the qunari, and began slashing at them with his sword, cutting through their armor and shields with his veilfire blade. Rajmael activated his Shimmering Shield, making him practically incorporeal; the qunari couldn't hit him, but Rajmael could cut them.

With the qunari ranks broken, Aedan and Hawke prepared to make their move.

"You remember how to charge an enemy formation, Sergeant?" Aedan asked, gripping his gruesome battle-axe.

"Just like back in Basic Training." Hawke assured, the Celebrant held firmly in his hands.

The two Fereldan warriors charged the qunari soldiers, hollering ferociously with their weapons in hand. Both of them were trained in the ways of combat used by the Fereldan Royal Army, and their training taught them exactly how to break enemy formations, and they had the weapons to do it. With their greatsword and battle-axe, Hawke and Aedan broke through the qunari rank, splintering their shields and cleaving through their bodies. Great weapons were designed to break the lines of pikemen, smash phalanx ranks, and even bring down cavalrymen. And both the Hero and the Champion were masters of these weapons.

Aedan's axe cleaved through the shields, and it's crescent head disemboweled them, ripping their intestines out of their bodies, and soon they were tripping in their own blood and guts. Hawke's Celebrant sliced through the qunari ranks like butter, and his powerful fire rune set them ablaze with fire, causing further panic in the ranks as burning qunari began running in horrible pain. Rajmael's Enasalin lit the darkness of the cave with it's white veilfire. The veilfire blade phased through the qunari's shield's and armor, while Rajmael wielded it in unison with his lightning magic to incinerate his enemies.

With their numbers, and being pressed shoulder to shoulder in such a confined space, the qunari had no room to move or fight back effectively. Their own strength in this battle became their fatal weakness. They tried to attack the Inquisitor, but he was like a ghost: their weapons just passed through him like he was made of air, his magic allowing him to unnaturally phase through objects and heal. The qunari tried to defend from the front, but the Hero's strength was too great, his axe eviscerated them as smashed through one opponent after the other. And the Hero's armor was practically impenetrable, their spearheads breaking on his breastplate while his sword cut through each of them and setting them on fire like scarecrows to a torch.

Cassandra and the rest of the Inquisitor's companion's watched in utter amazement while Varric and Zevran looked on like this was entertainment. All of them had merely heard what the Hero and the Champion were capable of, but to see them in action alongside the Inquisitor was unlike anything they had seen before. Anyone else, lesser men who would dare to take on a karataam with only three people, would have been purely suicidal. However, these three living legends decimated the entire company of highly trained qunari soldiers like they were nothing more than a mere obstacle in their path. One by one, Rajmael, Aedan and Hawke slew every qunari that had dared to stand in their path. Now they all realized that maybe Varric's tales weren't completely bullshit after all.

**~XoXoXo~**

Soon, all the qunari soldiers were dead, their broken, burned, and chopped up bodies laid strewn all over the bridge as a river of their own blood fell over the edge. With these men now dead, the Inquisitor and his company were free to enter the central chamber and get the primers they needed to blow this mine apart before the qunari used anymore of the lyrium for whatever this _"Dragon's Breath"_ scheme was.

"Maker's blood..." Dorian gasped dumbfounded at the sight of so much blood and gore committed by only three men. "I've heard all the stories, but damn if they never did 'em any justice."

"Trust me, it's one thing to hear about these people in action, but it's completely different to actually see it person." Zevran commented.

"It's all so messy. I don't like seeing so much blood." Cole spoke, looking a little paler than usual as he carefully tried to step over all the carnage and slip in anyone's blood and guts.

"Hot damn, I don't think there's anything in the qunari military that could prepare any of their soldiers for something like this." Iron Bull said as he looked at all the blood and gore lying all over the ground with his one eyes, thoroughly impressed.

"And I thought that spirit we saw posing as the Hero back at Adamant was something impressive." Ranier recalled. "That was like comparing watered down beer to Coastland Whiskey."

"Guess these guys didn't learn their lesson when Hawke killed the Arishok. There aren't enough qunari in Par Vollen that can kill the Champion of Kirkwall." Varric bragged.

"Nya-ha! These qun-guys should just quite now. Else they's all gonna get hacked into dog snack." Sera chortled.

"The qunari were running an effective operation, despite the structural instability of this place. I don't think they were counting on being discovered, let alone attacked." Vivienne pointed out.

"With this many soldiers, and given the trouble these agents of Fen'heral have been causing them, I think the qunari were expecting some kind of trouble." Cassandra responded. "Still, hard to imagine how you prepare for three of the most legendary figures in Thedas attacking you at the same time."

Aedan took a firm hold of his axe and jammed it out of a slain qunari's skull. "Well, I guess this makes it a three-way tie."

"That's too bad. After years of drinking that watered down piss they serve at the Hanged Man, I was really looking forward to trying some good liquor for a change." Hawke stated, cleaning the blood off his blade.

"Hey, after all this crazy shit we've seen here, I think we're all going to need some drinks from that cabinet when we're done here. I'll make sure everyone gets a bottle of the good stuff." Rajmael assured. "Now, let's see if we can find those primers Jerran was talking about them get the hell out of..."

A high pitched, ear-shattering hum split the air and massive sphere of destructive energy materialized in front of them. They could feel the intensity of its power searing their skin as it began pulling them towards it like a vortex of destructive energy. Rajmael, Dorian and Vivienne were barely able to raise a magical barrier strong enough to stop them all from being pulled in to the cluster of energy before it exploded like dragon fire, shattering the magic barrier and sending them all flying backwards.

"Ouch! What the fuck was that!?" Aedan hollered as he rose back to his feet and brandished his axe.

"Oh, shit! Get down!" Iron Bull shouted.

Everyone, even Aedan, hit the deck when two more intense balls of destructive energy came flying straight at them. It came in so close it singed Vivienne's robes. All of them looked ahead to see a powerul qunari warrior clad in heavy battle armor and holding a foreign longsword with a forked blade in one hand and some sort of rod in the other. On his armored chest was the symbol of the qunari nation, the House of Tides, a declaration of who he was.

Next to this warrior was a pair qunari the likes of which most of them had never seen. A man and a woman, both powerfully built, but their horns were chopped down, leaving behind a couple of rough stumps on top of their scalps. They were bound they were like some kind of beasts of burden: wearing a heavy chained harness around his neck and crude blinders locked around his forehead that obscured his eyes. The distinctive feature that Rajmael noticed about these bound qunari that made his blood boil in his veins, was the fact that these creatures' mouths were sewn shut. Who could abuse a member of their own people like this?

"What in the blue fuck are those things!?" Aedan shouted furiously.

"Sarebaas, qunari mages!" Iron Bull answered. "Watch out!"

"It's not like any sarebaas I've ever seen." Hawke noticed cautiously. "Then _that_ qunari must be an Arvaarad."

"Sarebaas, katara baas! Nehraa Qun!" The Arvaarad ordered viciously, using the strange rod in his hand to issue his order.

The two sarebaas grunted in response to the pain the control-rod brought them, the agony reminded them of their purpose and compelled them to obey. The qunari mages surrounded themselves in an arc of destructive energy and flew like a pair of living comets right at the Inquisitor and his companions. They landed with such force they created a pair of craters right where they stood.

Cassandra tried to use her Seeker abilities to suppress the sarebaas' magic, but their mana was just too powerful. It was like there was no end to their reserves of magic. The male sarebaas raised its claw-like hand and launched a powerful stream of pure destructive magic at the Seeker. Cassandra was able to raise her shield in time, but the force of the blast forced her back and she was unable to move forward. The qunari increased the power of his destructive spell, bearing as much of his might as he could down on the Seeker. Cassandra held as firmly as she could, but the power of this spell was becoming too much. It sent her flying off her feet and she crashed into a nearby pillar, knocking her out.

Varric tried to help Cassandra and fired several bolts at the sarebaas' side. The qunari raised it's other hand and launched a wall of psychic energy towards the dwarf, knocking the bolts out of the air and sending Varric flying backwards. Varric rolled back on to his feet and threw an elemental grenade he had been tinkering on at the qunari mage. The grenade exploded in a variety of different colors like a firecracker, dealing several different forms of elemental damage. Varric's grenade didn't even tickle the damned sarebaas.

Dorian had seen qunari sarebaas in action before, but never actually fought them. He was always too busy running in the other direction to ever see what they were truly capable of. This time, he didn't have the luxury of running to safety. This time, he was going to see just how much all those years of training back in the Circle of Vyrantium and being Alexius' apprentice actually meant against mages of his country's greatest rival.

Dorian held his ancient Imperium Staff, once wielded by the forebears of House Gerion when they were priests to the Old God of Fire Toth. With an ancient incantation in old Tevene on his lips, he conjured a complicated glyph beneath the sarebaas that attacked Cassandra and Varric before it could move to finish either of them off. An immense pillar of red flame erupted from Dorian's glyph with the intensity of a volcano and devoured the qunari. Dorian smirked smugly, proud with what he had done. It took him months to perfect that spell, and it cooked that sarebaas perfectly, like a Wintersend turkey.

Dorian sense of self-accomplishment was quickly killed when that sarebaas walked out of the pillar of flame, smoking but otherwise unharmed, and he looked incredibly pissed off. It extended its claw-like hand towards Dorian and prepared to launch an incredibly powerful ball of raw energy from its palm right at Dorian. But the attack never came, and the sarebaas howled in agony when its extended hand was lopped off his wrist, thanks to the quick and timely attack of a certain Tal-Vashoth mercenary.

Before the sarebaas could cast its spell at his lover, Iron Bull charged over on its flank and chopped its hand right off. While it was distracted by the horrible pain of losing its hand, and not casting any spells, the mercenary captain jammed his axe right into the qunari mage's head between his broken horns. Blood sprayed out from beneath the sarebaas' metal visor and trickled out of his sewn mouth, didn't even make a sound when he fell to the ground dead.

"Ahh. You're a real lifesaver, Amatus." Dorian sighed thankfully, appreciating the fact that he was saved by his better half, like something out of a cheap romance novel.

"Don't worry. The only horn-headed oxman who gets to play rough with you is me, Kadan." Iron Bull winked with his good eye.

The Champion stood before the remaining female sarebaas with his sword held ready. "The rest of you, stand back. I got this one."

"Y-yeah. You show her, Hawke!" Varric encouraged as he dizzily tried to stagger back to his feet.

"While you handle that thing, I'll take on this other asshole." Aedan responded.

"Sarebaas! Katar!" The Arvaraad ordered as he prepared to fight the Hero.

The female sarebaas clapped her hands together and fired of cone of destructive energy at the Champion. Rajmael could feel the amount of mana and power from the offensive spell and knew it was enough to put qunari canons to shame, yet Hawke no attempt to evade it, he didn't even move. What was he thinking?

The Champion stood firm, even as the powerful spell enveloped him with it destructive energy. Even Varric didn't react at the sight of it. The sarebaas magic should have blasted Hawke to pieces, but it did nothing, didn't even singe his beard. Hawke's armor and sword lit brightly with strange runic symbols that seemed to absorb the spell into his gear. Hawke held the Celebrant tightly in his hands and the sword began crackling with the same energy as the spell that was cast at him. Hawke then slashed the Celebrant at the sarebaas and redirected the mage's own spell right back at her. The sarebaas was caught so completely off guard that she had no time to react, and the spell blasted her to pieces, sending his torn limbs, head and torso flying across the facility.

Aedan dropped his axe as he approached the Arvaraad, content to simply just beat this oxman to death with his bare hands.

The qunari officer was insulted and enraged at this bas' arrogance. He screamed and held his forked sword ready to cut the now unarmed Hero down.

"Ataash qunari!" The Arvaraad screamed as he attacked.

Aedan caught the sword with his bare hands, snatched it out of the Arvaraads grip and snapped the highly crafted blade right in half then threw it to the ground. The Arvaraad tried to strike at Aedan with his powerful arms, confident that his heavy armor would give him ample protection. Aedan snapped the qunari's arm like a chicken wing before the strike could even touch him, then smashed his mailed boot into his opponent's leg and shattered his kneecap.

The Arvaraad growled and grunted viciously, desperately trying to hold back the agony he was in as he fell to the ground, his broken leg no longer able to hold him up. The Arvaraad grabbed the dagger strapped to his hip and angrily slashed at his attacker. Aedan stomped on the qunari's hand and left a deep imprint of his heel on the back of the qunari's palm. Aedan decided to end this quickly, so he grabbed the Arvaraad by on of his horns, snapped it off his skull, then jammed it through the qunari's eye, straight into his brain, and out the back of his head. As things usually go of Aedan, that was probably the cleanest execution he had committed since he arrived in Orlais.

While Aedan's capacity for violence was truly one of a kind, Rajmael and the others were more stunned about what they saw the Champion pull off. Hawke, a nonmage, actually redirected a powerful attack spell like how a mirror reflects light. Many of them had seen Rajmael accomplish the same thing, but that was in thanks to his magic and his magical sword. Hawke didn't have such gifts, did he?

"Ser Champion...how in the world did you manage that?" Vivienne asked, genuinely impressed. All this time she thought he was another sword-swinging brute, like Ranier of Iron Bull. Obviously, that wasn't the case.

"I thought the Champion couldn't do any magical spell-thingies." Sera said a tad confused.

"And here I thought only the Inquisitor could do something like that." Ranier commented.

"That's the thing about Hawke, he makes the ordinary _extraordinary_." Varric chuckled.

"No doubt about that. I read all the books, but seeing is a much different matter. How did you pull that off?" Rajmael asked deeply curious and impressed.

"I used to know this dwarf named Sandal, a venerable genius, prodigy and savant at rune crafting." Hawke answered, sheathing the Celebrant. "He forged me a special rune from a piece of that red lyrium idol Bartrand had. It can absorb and reflect any offensive spell that's casted at me. The only one of its kind in all of Thedas. And with all the different threats and enemies I face, such a thing really helps in a situation against powerful mages."

"Maybe you can all save your admiration for the Champion's equipment when we're not thousands of miles underground in an unstable lyrium mine with hordes of qunari wanting to murder us." Aedan yelled.

Remembering their purpose, all of them set to work searching for the primers Jerran told them to get so they could blow up this mine. As they were looking, Rajmael felt the song of the lyrium practically calling out to him and draw him near it. He walked over to the edge of the balcony overlooking the heart of the facility and he was awed by what his eyes beheld. There was an entire temple complex down here of elven design that had somehow perfectly withstood the instability of this place and the wear of time.

"By all the souls of my ancestors..." Rajmael said in awe at the sight. Everyone gathered around him and shared in the Inquisitor's amazement.

In the temple proper was a massive man-made crevice in the ground that revealed a venerable ocean of lyrium deep underground. At the end of the giant fissure was a great well that must have been used by the ancient elves to gather the lyrium. Strangely, on either side of the crevice, laid before the ocean of lyrium, was a long line of what must have been stone coffins. Who was buried here? And why did the elves abandon this place? With this much lyrium, they could have rivaled Orzammar, given their mages the might the needed to push back the Imperium.

"Holy shit. If I brought back even a tenth of what this place has, I could solve all of Kirkwall's building projects, settle the city's debts, and still retire in luxury for the rest of my life." Varric listed, unable to take his eyes of the precious magical ore.

"There must be enough lyrium here to outfit _two_ armies." Cassandra observed.

"This cave is a crumbling ruin, barely able to stand as it is." Zevran noted. "The qunari must be beyond desperate to risk so many lives and resources to get as much of this lyrium as they can. Not that I could blame them with this much lyrium."

"The qunari don't rely on lyrium, or anything magical for that matter. What could they possibly need this much lyrium for?" Dorian questioned.

"Remember what the Jerran guy said?" Iron Bull recalled. "He said the Viddasala is giving the sarebaas shitloads of lyrium. Maybe she's using it to enhance their abilities as living weapons."

"If that's part of her plan, then it's an effective one." Hawke stated grimly. "I've never encountered sarebaas that powerful before. If the Viddasala were to give an entire company of sarebaas lyrium, they could do more damage than any of the Circle mages."

"No, that doesn't make any sense." Aedan spoke out. "If you make these mages that powerful, how do you control them? The qunari are all about control, especially when it comes to magic. They wouldn't put so much stock in their own mages unless they served a different purpose."

"I must agree with our residential warlord." Vivienne admitted. "Weapons you can't control are no weapons at all. And mages are barely controllable as it is."

"Grr! Why does everyone gotta use stupid magic to win stupide fights over ideas that make no sense?!" Sera groaned like she had a splitting headache. "Why can't people do things the old-fashioned way and fight with arrows?"

"There has to be something here that can tell us more about this place. We need to know just what's going on here." Rajmael stated.

"Inquisitor, over here. There's some answers." Cole called over from a nearby table the qunari were using to stash supplies.

Rajmael walked over to Cole and saw a note on the table. Like some of the other qunari notes he had found, this one was strangely written in both qunlat and the common-tongue. Some of the notes had been scratched out, making them illegible. Rajmael tried to read what he could aloud.

_Viddathari kith,_

_Walls of blue flame have disrupted our operations. The agent of Fen'heral ignited these strange magical fires as he ran through here, bringing chaos. _**DO NOT GO NEAR THEM.**_ They are magic and bring only death. Fen'heral's mage servant is powerful, and magic must not be allowed to thwart us._

_The bas disruption of the Ataashi-Asaara must be ended at once. Inquisitor Lavellan decreases with each...The line was crossed out._

_The Dragon's Breath must be completed. Locate and eliminate the bas hissra...This line was also crossed out...Eliminate the servants of Fen'heral. Time runs out._

"Hmm. It would seem we're not the only ones interested in disrupting this lyrium operation the qunari have." Rajmael stated. "Looks like this mystery agent of Fen'heral is just as interested in stopping these qunari as we are. Still, this doesn't give me any answers, just more questions, Cole."

"I wasn't talking about these notes, Inquisitor. I was talking about this..." Cole grabbed a torch and illuminated a nearby wall that revealed a flawlessly preserved mural that almost stole Rajmael's breath.

The mural depicted a massive creature of earth and stone being struck down by a beam of light that pierced its strange heart. From it's shattered body came rivers of bright blue liquid that could only be lyrium. There were two veiled elves on either side of the mural. One held his hand up high in reverent praise. The other held the heart of the colossal creature in its hands. The mural depicted some kind of battle where the elves celebrated their victory and took the creature's heart as a prize.

Rajmael's elven eyes could see a faint glimmer beneath the surface of the ancient paint. Rajmael waved the Anchor before it revealing ancient veilfire runes that seemed to shift and coil like snakes, and magically allowed Rajmael to interpret their meaning. He couldn't just read the runes, he could actually feel them. The emotions of feelings captured and left behind by the people who built and eventually abandoned this place.

Rajmael felt his hand grip his sword and a sense of anxiety crept up his spine, like he was entering into an unknown, frightful place.

_"Our cities quake as these great ones shape the earth. The gods have given us their blessings to tame the land, and so we will start here. In this place we prepare to hunt the pillars of the earth. Their workers scurry, witless, soulless. This death will be a mercy. We will make the earth blossom with their passing."_

A thunderous shatters the stillness of the air, and Rajmael could feel sense of victory fill his heart.

_"Hail Mythal, adjudicator and savior! She has struck down the pillars of the earth and rendered their demesne unto the People! Praise her name forever!"_

For a moment, the scent of blood fills the air, and there is a vivid image of green vines growing and enveloping a sphere of fire. The vision grows dark. An aeon seems to pass. Then the runes crackle, as if filled with an angry energy. A new vision appears: elves collapsing caverns, sealing the Deep Roads with stone and magic. Terror, heart-pounding, ice-cold, as the last of the spells is cast. The image of an elven mage wearing a wolf-skin cloak appeared before Rajmael's eyes, his staff held firmly in hand as he looks down upon the sealed temple beneath the earth. He could hear his ancient distorted voice whispering_:_

_"What the Evanuris in their greed could unleash would end us all. Let this place be forgotten. Let no one wake its anger. The People must rise before their false gods destroy them all."_

"Incredible. The Evanuris...Mythal, eons ago, she slew a Titan here." Rajmael realized.

"What's a Titan?" Hawke asked.

"Picture a creature so large that it doesn't live beneath the earth, it _is_ the earth, Hawke." Rajmael answered, hardly able to believe it himself. "Creatures so immense their bodies could house entire thaigs. From what I understand they were...I guess you could say Shapers of the earth, capable of forming and crushing mountains. Supposedly, they are the source of all lyrium in the world."

"Holy fucking shit!" Aedan said utterly amazed. "How the hell did you discover that?"

"We went on a little stint with a Shaper from Orzammar to stop a Titan from waking up, and she decided to stay down there with it." Varric answered uncaringly. "Went to the Deep Roads, encountered more darkspawn, stumbled upon more ancient mysteries, and left with more questions than answers. Usual weirdness. Just wish it could have been somewhere above ground."

Hawke shook his head in disbelief. "Wait, you mean to say that all this lyrium, this entire chasm, it's the body of a dead Titan that was slain by an elven god?"

"Apparently when the Titans were shaping the earth, they shook and destroyed the elven cities." Rajmael explained. "The Evanuris had commanded my ancestors to tame the land, and the Titans were interfering with that. So Mythal struck this Titan down and my ancestors killed the dwarves inhabiting it, then harvested the lyrium from the Titan's dead body."

"Invading someone else's home then killing them and their god? Not exactly the best way to start interracial relations." Varric stated casually. "Then again, it's not like the dwarves are much better. We treat our own people like trash."

"If these Titans are so powerful, just how powerful were the Evanuris to be able to slay such a mighty creature." Cassandra wondered.

"What I want to know is if this place had a limitless supply of lyrium, why did the ancient elves abandon it?" Dorian asked curiously.

"Fen'heral and his rebels were afraid of something, so they sealed this place off." Rajmael answered. "Maybe they were afraid of provoking other Titans. Or maybe the were afraid of what the Evanuris might do with all this lyrium. Either way, they wanted to make sure no one else could get to this place."

"Well, in that case, why don't we finish what the Dread Wolf started, and stop these qunari from getting anymore lyrium out of this slain monstrosities carcass?" Zevran suggested.

"Yeah, well, two thousand years ago, the Dwarven Empire slaughtered the elves of Arlathan who fled to the Deep Roads to escape the Imperium and killed everyone in Cad'halash thaig for housing them. All so they wouldn't jeopardize their trading relationship with Tevinter." Aedan rebutted factually. "So, not every culture's hands are clean."

"Hey, I think I found just what we're looking for!" Ranier called. He cracked open a locked chest and found the primers they were looking for.

"It would be such a shame to let these perfectly good primers go to waste and not blow something up with them." Zevran chuckled.

"I gotta admit, I've always wanted to see what qunari black powder can do. Just to know what the hype's about." Varric admitted.

"Oh, you're in a for a treat, Varric." Iron Bull chuckled in anticipation. "Watching these things go boom and destroying other people's stuff is almost as good as sex."

"We should get to it quickly, before anymore qunari reinforcements show up." Cassandra urged.

"We're not splitting up this time." Rajmael ordered. "Once these explosives go off, we can't risk the chance of some of the other pathways crumbling. We'll all take the main path back to the eluvian and force our way past any resistance."

**~XoXoXo~**

All of them hurried to each of the loading platforms where the qunari stored barrels of gaatlok to be lowered into the mines. Without the primers, and thanks to the craftsman ship of the barrels, they were virtually harmless. However, now that the Inquisitor and his company had the necessary tools to ignite and use the qunari's prized and coveted black powder against them.

One by one, they managed to get to each platform and set off the explosives that were resting there in a ball of fire and smoke. With each explosion, the cavernous gorge became more unstable. Rubble began fall from the roof and parts of the ruins began falling into the abyss. The screams workers and soldiers below echoed throughout the caves as the mines they worked in buried them alive. These mines would now become their tombs.

Rajmael set off the last batch of gaatlok barrels at the final platform. The explosion shook the entire cave and the entire underground complex began to collapse. Massive boulders began to fall from the roof and sea water started flooding the entire place. Now was the time to beat feet and get back to the eluvian.

"Well, that did it! Now, let's get back to the mirror and warn the others about this _'Dragon's Breath'_ plan." Rajmael hollered.

"We may not wish to tarry. This place is flooding fast." Vivienne bade. "And I didn't bring any of my swimwear with me."

The entire group ran as fast as they could before they'd have to start swimming out of here. Any opposition they came across was swiftly cut down. With the qunari in such disarray and trying not to be crushed by falling debris or be swept off by the rushing water, the soldiers that remained couldn't hold a decent defense against them. As they rushed back through the path they came, they found the body of Ser Jerran surrounded by the slain corpses of his former qunari brethren. He had a sword in his hand, and his body was covered in blood from open wounds. The man had bled to death.

Rajmael found a not on one of the qunari that read,

_Elf-Isskari,_

_Our Templar brother is need of reeducation. He must be located and brought back at once._

_-Viddasala._

"Poor guy. Jerran refused to let them take him back alive. He didn't get far, but at least he died fighting." Hawke sympathized.

"Tch. A better fate than he deserved." Aedan said very unsympathetically. "Traitors don't deserve an honorable death."

"There's nothing we can do for him and we still have work to do." Rajmael reminded, urging them onward. "So, who wants to Josephine that we're now probably at war with the Qunari? Anyone?"

"Sorry, Inquisitor, I ain't touching that subject with a ten-foot pole. You're on your own with this one." Varric refused.

"They're your War Council, Boss. It's your job to keep them informed." Iron Bull reminded sarcastically.

"I dread to wonder how Ambassador will react to this." Cassandra sighed dismally. "This is most definitely a diplomat's worst nightmare."

"And some people wonder why I hate this fucking job." Rajmael sighed contentiously.

**Shortly, In The Inquisition Meeting Chamber...**

Everyone when their separate ways and waited while Rajmael gathered Cullen, Leliana and Josephine in their private chamber and told them everything he had discovered. To say that this came as a shock to the Councilors would have a been a horrific understatement. Cullen slammed his hands on their makeshift war table, thoroughly outraged and furious at this turn of events. Josephine didn't show it, but it was obvious that this news greatly upset her. She always started scribbling and jotting notes on her clipboard incessantly when she was upset. Leliana, however, maintained her composure. After surviving the Blight, serving as Nightingale for Divine Justinia, and the War with the Elder One, it was very difficult to ruffle the former Spymaster's feathers.

"Dragon's Breath. The qunari do love their colorful metaphors." Leliana said feigned amusement.

"But what does it _mean_?" Josephine asked earnestly.

"Maker knows. Qunari agents moving across Thedas using eluvians to attack the South is bad enough already." Cullen waved off.

"What I don't understand is why the qunari accused the Inquisitor and the Inquisition of serving Fen'heral." Leliana admitted.

"Because Fen'heral is real just as Mythal was real." Rajmael stated beyond a shadow of doubt. "I don't think we can afford to deny the fact that the Dread Wolf is on the scene is some form or another."

"What you described from the ancient ruins certainly implies that the elven god of misfortune is real." Leliana acknowledged.

"But how does that implicate us? What has made the qunari decide that the Inquisition serves this Fen'heral?" Josephine wondered.

"Perhaps they're simply drawing conclusions based on the fact that Fen'heral is an elven god and the Inquisitor is a Dalish elf." Cullen supposed.

"Hopefully, we will learn more after we've stopped them." Leliana hoped. "For now, we must find out what this Dragon's Breath plan is, and how they will use it to the invade the South. This qunari leader, the Viddasala..."

The door to their private chamber slammed open and both Arl Teagan and Duke Cyril stormed in unannounced. It was hard to tell how Cyril was feeling because of the damned mask on his face, but Teagan's face was twisted with utter outrage.

"Gentleman!" Josephine said scornfully for their breach in protocol.

"My sincerest apologies, Lady Josephine. There has been an incident with one of your soldiers." Duke Cyril informed maintaining his poise.

"How dare you!?" Teagan fumed. "It was bad enough that the Inquisition withheld the information about the qunari corpse from the Exalted Council, now your guards are attacking servants? You have overstepped your bounds!"

"You barge into my chamber, uninvited and unannounced, throw accusations at me, and dare to say _I'm_ the one overstepping my bounds?!" Rajmael shouted angrily back at the Fereldan lord.

"We will overlook this egregious breach in protocol, Arl Teagan, despite your rudeness. And the Inquisitor will gladly look in to this incident." Josephine spoke out calmly while giving the Inquisitor a stern and insistent look. "I am sure this is all a simple misunderstanding."

"Thank you, Lady Ambassador. Orlais stands ready to assist the Inquisition, as always." Duke Cyril said graciously.

Teagan scowled his displeasure at the Inquisition members, unwilling to let this matter go. "Secrets and lies. Do you not understand why we fear your Inquisition? You act as if you're the solution to every problem! How long until you drag us into another war?"

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael made his way to the Winter Palace garden and did his best to hold back his own anger at Arl Teagan. He didn't give a damn about anyone's rank or status, nobody talks to him that way. When he got to the scene that had upset Arl Teagan so much, he found a several of his own soldiers posturing with the Orlesian guards. One of his captains and that elven scout who had given him Leliana's message earlier were standing over an elven servant who looked like he had been knocked on his back and was nursing a shiner on his cheek.

"What is the meaning of this?" The Inquisitor demanded of his subordinates.

"The Orlesians tried to take one of our people, Lord Inquisitor. We're securing the area." The captain saluted.

The Orlesian captain of the guard stepped forward sharing the same outrage that Arl Teagan had possessed. "This is the Winter Palace! You cannot seize control when one of _your_ guards attacks a servant!"

"The Inquisition is handling this! When someone commits a crime of fashion, you can take over." The Inquisition captain slandered.

"I only asked what he was doing." The elven scout informed.

"And when I refused to bow to the Inquisition's dogs, you attacked me!" The Orlesian elf accused, staggering back to his feet.

"How would you like us to handle the situation, Inquisitor?" The Inquisition captain asked.

Rajmael's attention was instantly caught at the sight the cart of barrels that had been knocked over that the servant had been bringing. Rajmael recognized them as the same barrels he had just got done using to collapse that lyrium mine the qunari were using. Barrels full of black powder.

"Where were you taking those barrels?" Rajmael asked, containing his realization.

"I was ordered to bring more wine to the guests." The servant answered.

"You're lying." The scout denied lividly.

"Your Inquisition soldiers are completely out of control!" The Orlesian captain berated harshly.

"No, we're _in_ control. Keep trying to interfere, and you'll find yourself in chains!" The Inquisition captain said arrogantly.

Rajmael ignored the two bickering human captains and approached the elven servant with a deathly serious look in his eyes. "I'm going to ask you only one more time, and you'd better say the truth. Where were you taking those barrels?"

The elven servant shifted uncomfortably under the Inquisitor's scrutiny, but wasn't backing down. "I...I already told you. I was ordered to bring more wine..."

"Captain, take the servant into custody. Now."

"Right away, Your Worship." The captain saluted.

The Orlesian guard was stunned by this action. "Inquisitor, you cannot be serious."

"Ambassador Josephine will explain later." Rajmael assured. "For now, take the servant into custody."

"As you say, Inquisitor. Lord Cyril will hear of this." The Orlesian captain grumbled resentfully.

"Now wait just a moment please!" A thick Fereldan accented voice called. Aedan walked onto the scene finishing a mug of ale and approached the elven servant. "Why don't you let me talk to the man. I'm sure he and I can have scintillating _conversation_."

"What? Why?" The elven servant asked completely shocked.

"I wanna get to know you. And I'm sure by the time we're done talking, you and I will be close friends." Aedan grinned sinisterly.

"Very well, General Cousland." Rajmael agreed. "Never let it be said that I didn't cooperate with the lords of Fereldan."

"Great! Now, what do you say you and I head down to the lower basement?" Aedan suggested, putting his arm around the elf's shoulder and forcing him to follow. "We don't want anyone to eavesdrop on our conversation. Might be best to keep it in private."

As Aedan hauled the elven servant away to have a little "talk", the elven scout approached the Inquisitor and handed him some sort of note.

"Inquisitor, I found this not by the barrels. I cannot read the language."

Rajmael took the note and found that it was written completely in qunlat, just like the other notes he had been finding from the qunari. Why the hell was it here?

Leliana silently approached the Inquisitor, hoping for good news. "Did you resolve the problem with the guard?"

"The guard is the least of our problems right now, Leliana. Someone has smuggled barrels of gaatlok into the Winter Palace."

"Smile, Inquisitor. There are many eyes one us." Leliana urged, curling her lips into a bright smile. "At least now we know the true extent of the Dragon's Breath."

Rajmael didn't understand what she was asking but did it anyway. "Why are we smiling right now when we both just learned some of the worst news imaginable?"

"Years of training as a Bard have taught me to never show weakness of any kind, Inquisitor." Leliana answered, still smiling. "Our enemies can either see us panicking, or they can see a happy conversation between two friends."

"The qunari must be using the eluvians to sneak the gaatlok barrels for some kind of surprise attack." Rajmael concluded, maintaining a calm visage.

"Exactly! Even with the eluvians, a direct attack would have met fierce resistance, especially with the Hero of Ferelden and the Champion of Kirkwall here.." Leliana agreed. "But if everyone were to die in an explosion, the South would be rudderless, open to an invasion."

"The qunari mean to recreate the events at the Temple of Sacred Ashes." Rajmael realized.

"Yes, but to a more effect. This is what Corypheus _should_ have done after he destroyed the Conclave." Leliana stated. "An attack as swift and destructive as the breath of a dragon."

"The guard who confronted the servant also found this note. Apparently, it's in Qunlat." Rajmael said, holding the paper.

"Let me see. I've been learning from Iron Bull, but I am told my accent is terrible." Leliana looked at the note intently, trying to decipher its meanings. "These are orders for positioning the gaatlok barrels around the Winter Palace for maximum effect. Listen to this, _'when duty has been performed, report to the Viddasala through the mirror marked by a bookcase'_."

This was exactly the information Rajmael needed. "I've been wanting to meet with the esteemed Viddasala. She and I have so much to talk about."

"Good. While you do that, I will have agents remove the gaatlok quickly and discreetly. Perhaps Aedan can extract some information from that servant you arrested."

Rajmael turned to gather his companions to head back to the Crossroads and go after the Viddasala. Before he could even take the first step, he heard frantic screeching in the air above him. Like a bird that had been scared out of its mind. Rajmael looked up, and for sure, there was a bird flying down right at him. A large barn owl that landed on a nearby box next to the Inquisitor. Rajmael instantly recognized the owl as Keeper Deshana's animal companion.

"Tylluan? What are you doing here?" Rajmael asked confused and deeply concerned. Tylluan screeched at the Inquisitor in a panic, and he noticed the note strapped to owl's talon. He quickly unwrapped the paper and read what was on it.

"Oh, no...No." Rajmael gasped fell to his knees as he felt his heart almost stop in his chest. His shock quickly turned into utter rage as he rose back to his feet and stormed after that elven servant. "No!"

Cassandra saw Rajmael storming off, his eyes burning with anger, and became deeply concerned for him "Rajmael? What's wrong? Has something happened?"

Rajmael handed Cassandra the note and looked at her like he was ready to snap. "Cassandra, get the others and have Leliana explain the situation. The qunari just made this personal."

Rajmael strode away, and left Cassandra. She looked at the note her lover had given her, and realized what had distressed him so terribly. "Sweet Andraste. Maker, please be merciful."

**~XoXoXo~**

Aedan and Zevran stood alone in the secluded wine basement in the Winter Palace with the elven servant, who was obviously a spy. After everything they had seen with the qunari, they wanted some answers, and were ready to rip it out of this servant if needs be.

The elven servant in question maintained a hard exterior, refusing to cooperate.

"What do you say we skip the tough-guy speeches and threats, elf, and just get down to brass tacks." Aedan said, cracking his knuckles, ready to get started. "Tell us what you're really doing here, what orders were you given, and anything else that might be useful, or I'm going to snap you in half and make a wish."

"Oh, and trust me, it won't be a happy wish." Zevran informed.

The elven servant spat at Aedan's feet and gave him a defiant look. "I have nothing to say to a barbarian like you!"

"You know what, I was hoping you'd say that..." Aedan prepared to follow through with his promise when the door flung open and the Inquisitor walked in. His golden eyes were glowing furiously with electricity crackling in his hands. "Inquisitor? What's wrong?"

Rajmael said no word, he just shot a stream of lightning from his hands at the servant and sent him flying across the room. The servant screamed in agony as the lightning spell painfully coursed through his body. The Inquisitor didn't relent, showed no mercy, even though the man was a fellow elf, and continued to electrocute him without remorse.

Zevran closed the basement doors so that the whole Winter Palace wouldn't hear the servants agonized screams.

The Inquisitor stopped for a moment and forced the servant to look him in the eyes and give him an answer. **"WHERE...IS...MY DAUGHTER?!"**

**Language Codex:**

**Gaatlok:** Qunari word for explosive black powder.

**Sarebaas:** Qunlat, literally translates as _"Dangerous Thing"._ Qunari word for mages.

**Arvaraad:** Qunari military rank. Translates as "One who holds back evil". A qunari who watches over sarebaas and hunts down Tal-Vashoth.

**Viddasala:** Qunari Ben-Hessrath rank. Translates as _"One who converts purpose"._ A high ranked agent charged with the conversion of foreigners, the reeducation of Qunari dissidents, and the collection and quarantine of magic.

**Ataash Qunari:** Qunlat war cray. Translates as _"Glory for the qunari"._

**Ataashi-asaara:** Qunlat. Translates as _"Dragon's Breath"._

**Sarebaas, katara baas! Nehraa Qun!:** Qunlat. Translates as _"Mages, kill the outsiders! For the Qun!"_

**Ashante qaffas:** Tevene swear. Translates as _"you shit on my tongue"._

**Author's Note:**

**Now we're about to enter the really fun chapters. **

**I hope you all weren't just expecting me to just regurgitate the Trespasser storyline with only the Hero and the Champion as my original content.**

**Because there's going to be some drama and content that you are only going to get to see right here. **

**Rajmael's hand is hurting him, his faith is failing, and now something has happened to his daughter. **

**And that's just the tip of the iceberg.**

**Just wait until you see what else I have in store.**

**Please review and give me your thoughts.**


	46. The Vir Dirthara

**~The Vir Dirthara~**

The basement beneath the garden was filled with smoke, the air was ionized from all the electricity that had been crackling in there. The screams that once rang in this room were replaced by agonized weeping and choking sobs, accompanied by the fresh and putrid scent of burnt flesh and hair. Aedan leaned back against a wall with Zevran, watching intently as the Inquisitor viciously interrogated the qunari spy for answers. Apparently, the fanatics of the Qun deigned to kidnap the Inquisitor's daughter. That was the biggest mistake these religious zealots could possibly make.

As a fellow father, and someone who had already lost his family, Aedan knew all too well the lengths men like them will go to protect their loved ones, and the lengths they'll go to exact vengeance. It was one of the most defining aspects of his life. If these qunari wanted an enemy, they certainly had one now. All Aedan could do right now was watch and see what the Inquisitor was willing to do to rescue his daughter, or to avenge her.

Rajmael stood over the body of the qunari spy posing as a servant, his eyes filled with rage. The elven servant sobbed in agony, patches of his hair had been burnt off and electric burns covering his face. Rajmael had been torturing him with lightning spells to get the information he wanted. None of his more powerful spells, he needed to keep this saboteur alive. If this spy didn't tell him anything soon, however, Rajmael was going to start using more potent means.

"I'm going to ask you one more time, you qunari piece of filth, before I start using my _really_ painful spells..." Rajmael warned dangerously. "Where did you take my daughter, and why!?"

The elven servant whimpered in pain and choked back his own sobs. His face was still steaming from the electricity burns on his head. He couldn't take any more of this. "Please...I don't..."

The servant's pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears, for Rajmael no longer had any to give. He just intensified the power of the lightning attack he rained from his fingertips on to the crying qunari and didn't stop, even as his victim's screams threatened to tear his own vocal chords.

"Stop it! Please, stop! I'll tell you what I know!" The charred qunari spy finally begged, his throat hoarse from screaming.

Rajmael ceased his torture and knelt close so that the spy could speak clearly into his ear, and ready to deal more pain if necessary.

"Th-the...V-Viddasala dispatched two agents, elven viddathari...to the Temple of Mythal to secure your daughter...to bring her to the V-Viddasala's base." The elven servant whispered in desperate agony. "That's all in know, I swear. Please, I...was...just following orders, my role in the Qun. It was...never...personal."

"You piece of shit! How can elves like you serve something so wretched as the qun to act against your own people? Then you steal my daughter and dare to say it's not personal!?" A newfound sense of anger and disgust sprang inside Rajmael's heart for the qunari. They would dare to stoop so low as to use elves against their own kind to do something so despicable and still claim to be an enlightened, superior people. "Solas was right about the Qun. All of you are just mindless puppets, you have no soul. If my daughter and I have to suffer the consequences of your order, than so will you."

"Very well said, Inquisitor." Aedan commented approvingly. The Hero of Ferelden looked down on the tortured spy with a utter revilement in his eyes, for he too knew what it was like to have his family taken from him. "You fuckers dared to place your hands on another man's child? You're getting off easy as far as I'm concerned."

Rajmael ignited another charge of lightning in his palm with hate in his face. Before the elven qunari could plead for mercy, Rajmael discharged his spell into the spy's face and made his head explode. Wet chunks of skull fragments, brain matter, and bits of face flew all over the room.

Zevran shook his head glumly at the dead qunari convert. While he never really gave it much thought, he still couldn't fathom why anyone would join something that demands so much from its followers. He looked to the Inquisitor feeling a great swell of sympathy. "What do you intend to do know, Lord Inquisitor?"

"I'm going to kill _all_ of them." The Inquisitor swore with deathly determination. "Go to the others, tell them what we've learned and wait for me by the eluvian."

"Time is of the essence. Where are you going?" Aedan inquired.

"To get some fucking answers." Rajmael growled angrily.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael marched back to his meeting chamber where his War Council was discussing the situation. When they saw the look on Rajmael's face, they knew the situation had become that much more dire.

"Inquisitor. Cassandra told us what has happened. I am so sorry." Josephine said sorrowfully.

"I always knew the qunari were ruthless, but I didn't think they'd ever stoop this low." Cullen spoke resentfully.

Leliana shared Cullen's feelings. "The situation has become even more complicated than we thought. Were you able to get anything out of the servant?"

"He was in fact a qunari spy, and he's has served his purpose." Rajmael answered dourly. "Find out everything there is to know about him. Who he spoke with, his coworkers, and how the hell he got those damned barrels into the Winter Palace. Watch for any other servants who might be trying to leave."

"Qunari spies rarely work alone." Leliana agreed. "I'll make sure to find any other conspirators and more about how they pulled this off."

Rajmael turned to his Ambassador with serious intent. "Josephine, I need you to summon Marquis Briala. We must speak, _now_."

The Inquisitor was putting Josephine in an awkward position. One does not simply call on a powerful noble, especially when she is courting the Empress of Orlais, on a whim. But given the severity of the situation, Josephine decided to push aside courtly decorum. "I shall call her straight away, Inquisitor."

Minutes later, Marquis Briala entered the private chamber with Josephine. Despite the fact that that elven noblewoman was wearing her courtly mask, Rajmael could see the discomfort and annoyance in Briala's eyes behind that mask had for having her personal time interrupted. At the moment, Rajmael couldn't care less.

"It's always a pleasure to meet with you, Inquisitor, but it would have been polite to receive your invitation in advance rather than an impromptu meeting." Briala said cordially. "If you're seeking us for advice on the Exalted Council, you know very well our hands are tied..."

"Fuck the Exalted Council." Rajmael dismissed indignantly. "Marquis Briala, I need to know exactly what has happened to the Eluvians. I thought you had control over them, but apparently, that is not the case. Would you mind telling me how the fuck that's possible!?"

Briala was taken aback not only by the Inquisitor's questions but also his disrespectful tone. "Pardon me, Inquisitor, but that is a rather impertinent question to ask, especially with _that_ attitude. You know perfectly well that I keep such things secret for a reason."

Rajmael's eyes began to heat up with hostility. He was in no mood for cordiality or rules of propriety, not with Eva in danger. "Your secrets don't mean shit to me anymore, Briala. Right now, there is a faction of hostile qunari zealots who are attempting continental terrorism, and they are using the fucking eluvians to do it. And on top of that, they have my daughter! I don't care about cordiality or your hurt feelings. I care about stopping these fanatics and getting my daughter back. So you are going to give me the answers I need, or I swear I will _take_ them from you!"

Briala was taken further back. She spoke of keeping secrets, yet apparently she knew nothing about what was truly going on. There was no lie she could speak that would be believed, and if the Inquisitor's daughter had been kidnapped, she knew Inquisitor Lavellan would move mountains to protect her. Briala had no choice, she had to come clean.

The elven marquis took a deep breath, trying to prepare herself for what she was about to say because not even she could believe it. "I don't how else to say this, but I have lost control of the eluvians entirely."

Rajmael felt like he was about to have an aneurysm. "You mean to tell me you possessed on of the greatest most strategically valuable marvels of our ancestors that managed to survive centuries of destruction, and you lost it?! How the fuck do you manage that!?"

"You think I intended this to happen? That I was so careless as to simply let the eluvians escape my grasp? Don't be foolish, Inquisitor." Briala balked back. "I don't know what happened exactly. The mirrors, they just stopped working. They no longer respond to my key, my method to unlocking them."

"A key? What key?" Rajmael remembered Morrigan's eluvian and how the mirrors required knowledge and power to unlock them. Briala must have had something that granted her access to the network of mirrors she used in her war against Gaspard and Celene.

Briala hesitated for a moment. She was reluctant to reveal what she had worked so hard to keep hidden, but there was little point in hiding her key any longer. Briala reached around her neck and pulled out a neckless with a locket on it. She pressed a secret button on the item and popped it open, revealing a small flawlessly cut gemstone of a deep shade of crimson.

Rajmael thought it was just an ordinary ruby, but he could sense the faintest glimmer of magic from it. "What is this?"

"It's the keystone I used to activate and gain access to the eluvians." Briala explained. "A Dalish mage name Felassan, a friend and teacher of mine, helped me to acquire it so that I could use it to help our people in my struggle during the civil war. It granted me access to a major part of the eluvian network that spanned across Southern Thedas. With this stone and a simple passphrase, we were able to cross halfway the distance of the continent like walking through a door."

"What was this passphrase?"

"Fen'heral enansal." Briala answered honestly.

"Fen'heral's blessing?" Rajmael asked incredulously. It seemed like the ancient elven god of misfortune was involved with everything at the moment.

"It seemed appropriate. Invoking the ancient elven god of trickery to help us wage a shadow war against our oppressors, where our strength was cunning and guile instead of strength of arms." Briala clarified. "But it would seem that Fen'heral's blessing is merely a passing thing."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that it no longer works." Briala admitted lamentingly. She took a bitter breath, for it was painful for her to admit this. "This keystone, the eluvians, they no longer respond to my passphrase. It's as if something has overridden my control over the eluvian network. Could these qunari have done that?"

Rajmael placed his hand on his chin thoughtfully. "I don't think so, but I wouldn't rule it out, either. The qunari don't study magic to understand it but to destroy it. Lady Morrigan and Hawke's lover Merrill were able to find ways to repair their own eluvians, I suspect the qunari with their resources have done the same. I have to find out how and why. Thank you, Marquis."

"Inquisitor, wait." Briala called after the Dalish elf. "I...I'm sorry about what's happened to your daughter. I hope that you get her back, and stop whatever madness these qunari are plotting."

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael walked back through the Winter Palace to rejoin his comrades. All he could think about was what had happened to Eva. Why would the qunari target her and not him? Have they harmed her? The qunari were infamous for their cruel treatment towards mages, more so than the Chantry, and Eva's powers began to manifest when she was young. Were they harming her now? Rajmael had to save her. He had already lost his parents, his adopted father, his brother and the first woman he loved. He couldn't lose Eva, too.

Rajmael's train of thought was broken by the sight of someone he caught at the corner of his eye. A familiar figure he had almost forgotten, yet could never forget. She was watching him, and he knew it. He turned towards her as she began to quickly walk away, trying to avoid attention. Rajmael shoved his through the crowds of people, refusing to let her out of his sight. He had to be sure it was her, and not some trick being played on his imagination. The mysterious elf led him towards the servants' quarters, which were currently empty because they were all out doing their tasks. She looked back at the Inquisitor, and Rajmael recognized her straight away. She was an elven woman with dusky skin, chestnut brown hair, and verdant green eyes that were filled with anger. She was dressed like a servant, but Rajmael recognized her.

Rajmael's hand instinctively reached for his sword at the sight of the woman before him. He remembered how dangerous she was. He name escaped his mouth like a threat.

"Velara!"

"Greetings, Inquisitor. It's been a while." Velara greeted in a sinister tone and gave a curtsy full of faux courtesy.

Rajmael could never forget Velara. She was Vir Banal'ras, one of the assassins trained by Nethras to exact vengeance on the humans for their crimes against elvenkind. She was his brother's most devout disciple, just as fanatic in her desire to kill humans. After Rajmael dueled Nethras, she became the leader of the Vir Banal'ras. Rajmael tried to find them, but they had all disappeared. Now she was here, and the Vir Banal'ras never acted alone or without purpose.

"What are you doing here, assassin?" Rajmael demanded with hostility, never taking his hand away from his sword.

"Oh, you know, I thought I'd just sneak into the Winter Palace and see how you once again fail our people by putting these shemlen and their precious kingdoms ahead of us." Velara answered sarcastically. "And I have to admit, you never disappoint at being disappointing."

Rajmael tried piecing together what was happening. Velara was here, and there was a qunari plot to blow up the Winter Palace with explosives. "Have you fallen so low that you would aid someone like the qunari simply to exact your revenge?"

"As if those horn-headed foreigners and their precious philosophy is worth our time. Don't be absurd, Inquisitor." Velara laughed in Rajmael's face. "I'm just watching this little play take its course."

The Inquisitor gripped his hand around his sword, ready to cut Velara's head off depending on her next answer. "Did you have anything to do with what's happened to Eva?"

"No, never." Velara denied earnestly, her eyes conveying her own disdain for that action. "I was a mother once, and I would never do that to Nethras' daughter. She deserves better than that."

"But it was you, wasn't it? You're the one who gave Nethras' journal to Eva." Rajmael realized. Velara was the only one in the world who could have known of Nethras' journal and give to his daughter.

"Yes, that was my handiwork. It was quite easy, to tell the truth." Velara grinned.

"Why?!" Rajmael couldn't believe this. This woman was the reason why he and Eva had a falling out in the first place.

"Maybe I felt the little girl deserved to know how her father died. Maybe I felt Eva deserved to know that the man who so desperately wants to be her father cared more about the shemlen than his own people when he killed his own brother." Velara answered with enough venom to shame a scorpion. "Maybe I wanted to remind you of how badly you continue to fail our people. It doesn't really matter. What's done is done."

"Why are you here?" Rajmael demanded.

"Like I said, I'm just watching." Velara insisted. "Don't worry, Inquisitor, the Vir Banal'ras' hands are relatively clean in this matter you've found yourself in. And as fun as it is to watch these qunari try to blow up the Winter Palace with all of these self-important shems in it, we have much grander plans to carry out."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Velara's smile widened sinisterly. "The Vir Banal'ras serve a new cause now, a new master. You, your Inquisition, the Qunari, you're all just rats scurrying in a maze, fumbling in the dark. We will watch you destroy one another, and take back what is rightfully the People's. Nethras' life will not have been in vain."

Rajmael didn't understand what she was saying. "What do you mean? Who do you serve?"

"Now that would be telling, wouldn't it?" Velara laughed. "You're the Inquisitor. I'm sure you'll find out soon enough."

"I could take you down right now and have you tortured for information, Velara. You know I can." Rajmael threatened, his hand gripping his sword.

"You could, but that's just more time you're wasting one me instead of trying to get Nethras' daughter back. I'm not here as your enemy, this time. I came to give you something that might help you." Velara reached into her pockets and extended some sort of tablet to the Inquisitor.

Rajmael hesitantly took the item Velara was giving him, and examined it cautiously. It was some sort tablet no bigger than a pamphlet and made out of some sort of brilliant white stone that was as light as a feather. What really caught Rajmael attention was the fact that the surface of the tablet had ancient elven writings carved into it. Ancient glyphs and characters whose meanings had been lost to history. Despite being older than written history, the carvings on the tablet were still clear as daylight and suffered no wear or decay.

"What is this and why are you giving it to me?" Rajmael asked suspiciously.

"A library card." Velara answered sarcastically.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!"

"Trust me, where you're going, you're going to need it." Velara insisted. "And as to why I was told to give it you, well, no matter how much I despise you, Inquisitor, you still care for Nethras' child. And she doesn't deserve to suffer for your mistakes. If you hurry, you might still be able to save her. It'd be the only time you actually managed to save one of our people."

"Fuck you, Velara." Rajmael cursed viciously, remembering the words of wisdom Junnarel once told him. "There is more to protecting and restoring our people then killing humans. The spirit and honor of our people should mean more than mere vengeance. We gain nothing by stooping to the level of those we hate."

"So long as we are seen as nothing more than a twice conquered people, as long as these interlopers and invaders rule the world that once and rightfully belongs to us, we will never gain anything." Velare hissed hatefully, the memory of watching her own children burn alive cemented and fueled her hatred.

There was no point in arguing further. Rajmael didn't have the luxury of refusing any kind of aid, not with Eva's life in danger. Rajmael the strange tablet into his coat and slowly backed away from the assassin before turning his back on her. "If I were you, shadow warrior, I would hope that we never meet again. Relay that message to whatever new master you serve."

Velara watched the Inquisitor walk away, laughing sinisterly to herself as she disappeared into the shadows. "Oh, I am sure you'll get the opportunity to tell him yourself soon enough. Little arcane warrior."

**~XoXoXo~**

Hawke stood in utter shock, almost unable to believe what Seeker Cassandra and General Cousland had just got done informing the rest of them. Qunari agents infiltrated the Temple of Mythal, posing as elves looking to learn more about their heritage, and kidnapped the Inquisitor's daughter. Hawke had run afoul of elven qunari spies before, and learned the hard way that the hard way in that fiasco at Chateau Haine with Tallis.

"Andraste on her pyre...I always knew qunari agents were ruthless, but this? They commit such cruelty and still dare to think they're the most enlightened people in Thedas!?" Hawke said outraged.

"Maker be merciful." Josephine gasped and dropped her quill in horror. "But Eva is such a sweet child, how could anyone think of harming her?"

"There is no honor in war, especially not with the qunari." Cullen seethed. "Canons, chemicals, hostages, even the mages they hate and bind, they'll use anything to win, and feel nothing for it. So long as it's a demand of the Qun."

"Horn-headed buncha rat-pricks!" Sera cursed spitefully. "You gotta problem with somebody, you go stick it to 'em, ya don't go after their kids. That's just...grr! I gotta shoot somethin' really bad!

"Lived next to the Qunari for nearly a decade, and apparently we didn't learn squat about them." Varric shook his head despondently. "And here I thought only the Carta could do something that detestable."

Leliana shook her head at her comrades' collective disbelief. "Surely none this can't be that much of a surprise to any of you? These ben-hessrath are spies and assassins, no? To make their jobs easier, and to lure their targets, they will often perform acts of kidnapping. Rarely does either the target or the victim ever survive." Being a Bard most of her life, Leliana knew what extremes some operatives will take to complete their mission.

"There are certain lines you don't cross in order to not be a cruel bastard. Harming a man's child is one of those things. I know that from personal experience." Ranier spoke out with disdain, both for the qunari's actions and his past crimes.

"I don't get it, this doesn't make sense." Iron Bull said disbelievingly. "Ben-hessrath do some pretty shady things, but kidnapping? That's not their standard MO. Either the Viddasala is really desperate, or she really _is_ insane."

"You'd have to be either to do something that guarantees you a place atop of the Inquisitor's shit-list. Though, I'd lean closer to insanity, given what we've learned." Dorian commented.

"After killing Corypheus and sealing the Breach twice, you'd think the Qunari would at least have a modicum of respect for the Inquisitor, and think twice before assaulting him in such a manner. I see that's not the case." Vivienne scoffed.

"We have to help the Inquisitor get Eva back." Cole urged worriedly. "She is everything to the Inquisitor, all that is good. If she dies, he dies, too."

What Cole said deeply troubled Cassandra. Back when they first met after he stopped the Breach from getting bigger at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, Rajmael's only concern was to get back to his clan and adopted daughter. He was even willing to chop off his own hand to be rid of the Anchor, the only thing keeping him from returning home. Now the very person who Rajmael did everything for as Inquisitor was now in mortal danger. Rajmael had already suffered so much throughout his life that it was a wonder that he was still sane. While Cassandra was afraid for Eva, she also feared what losing his adopted daughter could do to Rajmael.

Zevran could sense the Seeker's distress, and he too was concerned by it. "The situation has become worse than some of you might expect."

"How do you mean, Zevran?"

"I saw the look in the Inquisitor's eyes as he tortured that qunari spy. It was the same look Aedan had in his eyes when assaulted Howe's mansion before brutally ripped the bastard apart." Zevran recalled the memory like it was a vivid nightmare.

"I remember that day like it was it was this morning." Leliana recalled, her eyes filled with that horrid memory. "I can still remember the screams I heard coming from that room."

"If worse comes to worse, you might end up with another me walking around in the world." Aedan spoke out in his grim thick brogue, grabbing everyone's attention.

"What do you mean by that, General?" Hawke inquired, deeply disturbed by Aedan's implication, especially after he saw the Hero almost lay waste to Kirkwall once.

"Loss and suffering is not only common to elves, but it's a fact of their lives, and from what I understand, the Inquisitor has every right to hate the world." Aedan stated with grim factuality. "He's a father, I'm a father, and I would kill tens of thousands to protect to my son, and even more to avenge him. I know what it's like to lose something as precious as family and to live for revenge. If the Inquisitor begins to walk down that path, what do you think he will do with the Inquisition?"

"Forgive me for saying, General, but do you mean to say that we should try to keep the Inquisitor from taking vengeance?" Vivienne questioned incredulously. "Seems a little hypocritical to me."

"Don't insult me, Enchanter." Aedan growled. "If the Inquisitor wants vengeance for this act, it's his damned right. But I hope the rest of you are prepared for what comes next if the worst should come to pass. Unlike the Inquisitor, I grew up a nobleman. I was born into power and authority, and very few ever dared to cross me, even before I ended the Blight because of my family name. The Inquisitor, however, is an elf. And what are elves born with besides loss and a kick in the teeth? How much do you think he can stand to lose and suffer before his spirit breaks, or morphs into something far worse? I wouldn't trust him with the unchecked power he now wields should that come to pass."

That thought sank into all their brains like quicksand. Thedas' foremost authority on the subject of revenge was actually worried about what vengeance could do to the Inquisitor, and what he in turn could do to the world. He could become more destructive and powerful than Corypheus ever was.

None were more disturbed and scared for this prediction than Cassandra. It was true that Rajmael had suffered his whole life, and there was only so much pain a soul could endure before it broke. Rajmael loves Eva like she was his own, and to lose her was almost too much to bear. What if he did lose her? What would such a loss do to him? Would he even be the same man Cassandra loves now? No matter what, they had to save Eva, for her own salvation as well as Rajmael's

The door creaked open and when the Inquisitor walked everyone went silent. He didn't show it on his face, but all of them could feel the storm of emotions raging inside the Inquisitor. Even when he waged war against the Elder One, he did not have this kind of grim bearing surrounding him. It was like being in the same room with an angry lion, and they had to hold their breath in the hopes of not provoking it and getting their heads ripped off.

"Our situation has become even more dire." Rajmael announced forebodingly. "As I'm sure you all know, the qunari have taken my daughter. And just as disturbing, it would seem the Vir Banal'ras are playing some sort of role against the qunari as well. They are probably these agents of Fen'heral that have been plaguing the Viddasala."

"Vir Banal'ras? Way of Shadow?" Hawke asked curiously. Merrill had taught him a little elven, but he was still no expert on their ways.

"A cult of elven assassins dedicated to vengeance. Very secretive, very deadly and very fanatical. This current incarnation of them was founded by my brother Nethras, who almost succeeded in a plot to kill all the humans of the South, and very nearly killed me, twice. So, I was forced to kill him." Rajmael paused a moment, those memories still held a bitter sting for him, and was the very cause of his falling out with Eva. "It would seem that they've taken their quest of vengeance against the qunari."

"How do you know this?" Cassandra inquired.

"I just had a...lively conversation with Velara, Nethras' top disciple and current leader of the Vir Banal'ras." Rajmael revealed with a scowl. "It turns out, she was the one who gave Eva her father's journal."

"What?! You've gotta be shittin' me! What did she want?" Varric asked in disbelief. "Whose back did she want to put a knife into?"

"That's the funny thing, Velara claimed she was only here as an observer, and swore to me that they had nothing to do with this." Rajmael revealed sharing Varric's disbelief. "She even gave me this strange tablet insisting that it would help us where we're going."

"Is it possible that the Vir Banal'ras are the ones using the legend of Fen'heral for their own gains?" Josephine suggested.

Rajmael thought for a moment, believing Josephine might have been on to something. "It's certainly possible. The Vir Banal'ras know the power of intimidation, and in elven myth, there is no greater enemy than the Dread Wolf. Whatever the Vir banal'ras' motivations are, they are trivial to what we must do. Our mission is to stop these qunari and prevent them from carrying out this Dragon's Breath plan. However, on this mission, our priorities must split."

"What do you mean, Rajmael?" Cassandra asked concerned.

"We must stop the qunari, that's fact, and we will do everything we can to accomplish that." Rajmael stated. "But, if rescuing Eva takes me away from that initiative, then the rest of you must carry out the mission without me."

"What?! You cannot be serious!" Ranier shouted.

"Inquisitor, that is an almost insane risk." Cullen opposed.

"The Inquisition isn't disbanded yet, and we still need an Inquisitor." Josephine spoke out.

"I know you are concerned for your step-daughter's safety, but you're taking a foolish risk." Vivienne disapproved.

"You can't expect us to let you do that on your own!" Cassandra objected, almost hurt by the notion. "You know we can help you get Eva back safely."

"Come on, boss. You can't expect us to let you go on your own. We've always got your back." Iron Bull reminded staunchly.

"Goin' off by yerself? That's bonkers!" Sera yelled.

"This isn't argument, or a suggestion! If it comes between the mission or Eva, I will go after her, and I will do it on my own!" Rajmael shouted admonishingly, making everyone shut up. He took a breath and calmed down, trying not to let his emotions get the better of him. "Listen, I know what all of you are capable of, it's why I trust you to carry it out, and I know you can accomplish this. And don't forget, you all will have two of the greatest heroes in Thedas to help you carry out this mission. If anyone can take my place and stop the Viddasala, it's the man who ended the Blight, and the man who first killed Corypheus and the last Arishok."

Neither Hawke nor Aedan could believe what the Inquisitor was doing. Not that he was placing the safety of his daughter ahead of his duty as Inquisitor, for neither of them could fault such familial conviction. What surprised them both was the fact that the Inquisitor was trusting them to complete his mission. It was almost ironic, being granted this responsibility by the Lord Inquisitor when not so long ago both of them were sought out for this rank.

Aedan stepped forward and nodded his head in respect to the Inquisitor's request. "I would be honored to carry out this task if needs be, Lord Inquisitor."

Hawke smiled brightly to the Inquisitor and gave him a thumbs up. "Chasing down qunari assassins, and help a great hero rescue his daughter? How can I refuse?"

"Then let's waste no more time." Rajmael determined before turning to his Councilors. "Leliana, while we're gone, find out anything you can about the servant I interrogated. Who he is, who he's spoken to, how he got those gaatlok barrels into the Winter Palace."

"I'll have my best agents on it immediately." Leliana promised.

"Cullen, I want you to alert all our soldiers to the situation. If the worst should pass, I want every man we have here ready to act."

"Everyone will be ready if there's so much a sign of trouble, Inquisitor." Culled assured staunchly.

"Josephine, I know we're putting a lot of pressure on you, but I need you to keep the Exalted Council at bay just a little longer. Stall them as best you can until we've stopped this. If anyone else gets wind of the situation, there could be a massive panic."

"Their patience is wearing thing, but I think I can use their general dislike for each other against themselves. I'll make sure they won't notice they are kept in the dark." Josephine assured.

"Alright, then. Let's go. I won't let the Viddasala get away with what she's done." Rajmael ordered with severe determination in his eyes. He had lost enough family throughout his life. He was not going to lose the child he loved like a daughter.

**Meanwhile, At An Unknown Location...**

Eva's eyes began to flutter open. Her vision was blurry and her head was pounding like a war drum. Last thing she remembered was talking with that lady named Tallis about the symbolism behind elven art mediums, then she felt a sharp pain in her neck, then she was out cold, waking up in an unfamiliar place. Her grandfather once told her about an old hunting trick some hunters would use to bring down prey alive. Hunters would create a diversion to catch their quarry's attention, then while they were distracted, the hunters would bring it down with a blow dart dipped in drug or paralysis poison. Someone just used that old trick on her.

Eva's vision started coming back to her, and it looked like she was in some kind of dungeon. Brick walls with a cold stone floor and a iron door, and her wrists were bound in chains. Yes, it was definitely a dungeon.

There was an uncomfortable tightness around her neck, and Eva found that her captors also strapped her with some kind of collar. Did they think she was some kind of dog?

"Where...where am I!?" Eva stubbornly demanded.

"You're safe, for now. We've brought you to our base of operations." Spoke a familiar voice in the darkness. A figure stepped out of the shadows, revealing an elven woman with bright red hair wearing green armor.

"Tallis? What is the meaning of this!?" Eva demanded, furious and betrayed.

"I'm sorry we had to do this, I _really_ am, but it was for your own good." Tallis said sympathetically.

"Wait a minute, just wait a minute. Drugging me senseless, kidnapping me, then chaining me in a dungeon was for my own good? You're cracked worse than a glass floor!" Eva shot back with sarcastic outrage. "Oh, and by the way, which one of you drugged me?"

"Sorry, but that was me, da'len." Answered Tallis' companion, the elf with the closs-cropped brown hair who accompanied her to the Temple of Mythal.

"What? You called me da'len. Are you Dalish?" Eva asked disbelievingly.

The elf turned his head away, but there was no shame on his face. More like nostalgia for something that was no longer there. "I was, once. But that was before I joined the Qun. I'm Isskari now."

"You...you're qunari?" Eva repeated unable to believe her own ears. Her disbelief quickly turned into anger for what this convert just did to her. "I guess the qunari must have made a real man out of you when they told you to drug and kidnap a thirteen-year-old girl. Let's how tough you are when your target's cooks you like a whole-roasted hog!"

Eva raised her hand towards the nearby torch to turn the qunari convert into a smoldering slab of meat, but when she tried to activate her magic, a horrible pain surged from her neck and spread throughout her body, making her scream in agony. It was like a thousand burning hot knives were stabbing her all over her body. After a few minutes that felt like hours, the pain finally stopped, leaving Eva feeling numb all over, barely able to move a muscle.

"You see, Tallis? I told you putting that collar on was a smart move." Isskari said almost scoldingly to his comrade. "Mages, no matter their race cannot be trusted."

"She is only a child!" Tallis argued.

"And the fact that her people let her just wonder around loose with no oversight or discipline to curtail her magic only makes her that much more dangerous!" Isskari shouted. "Don't forget, that it's because of elven mages like her that we're in the danger that we're now in. It's only by taking measures like this that we ensure the safety of everyone."

"Treating her like this isn't going to make anything, especially us, better." Tallis contended. "This isn't what the Qun demands."

"Maybe not, but it is what the Viddasala ordered. You may be ben-hessrath, but I answer directly to her." The Isskari reminded sternly. "Don't forget, it's because of your disobedience to the Qun that has always gotten you into so much trouble. Don't let your weak-hearted sympathies endanger your standing any more than it already is."

Tallis stood there stubbornly biting her own lip to keep herself from spouting any more insolence. She hated to admit it, but the Isskari was right. Her constant conflict with the mandates of the Qun was what always got her in trouble. This was perhaps the biggest mission she had ever been apart of as ben-hessrath, and she couldn't afford to endanger her standing in the Qun if she was to continue fulfilling her role. Even if she did feel like crap about it.

Isskari walked out of the cell, trusting Tallis to keep a close eye on their prisoner. Tallis looked down on the little girl, slumped on the floor in chains and still in pain, and couldn't help but hate herself for doing this, even if it was what her role demanded of her. Once, a long time ago, Tallis was in that very same position when she was a slave in Tevinter.

Eva slowly lifted her head from the floor, her eyes throwing poisoned daggers at Tallis. Her throat and body was still numb, but she forced herself to speak. "Why...why are you doing this?"

"I _am_ sorry, Eva, but this is the only way." Tallis said sorrowfully. "The Inquisitor is a great man and he saved the world by killing Corypheus. This is the only way we can honor him."

"Kidnapping me, chaining and torturing me, giving him every reason to want to butcher all of you like the cattle you are is how you honor Rajmael?" Eva said in total outrage. "Lady, you must be smoking something, or the Qun did that thing where they take your brain away."

"You don't understand, Eva. Your step-father is dying, and the South is going to be destroyed. Bringing you here and saving you from its destruction was the only way the Qun could honor what the Inquisitor has done for the world."

Eva was stunned into silence, her anger and outrage was swept away by shock. The numbness she felt from that collar did nothing to deaden the horrible sense of anguish she felt clutching at her heart.

"No, that can't be true. You're lying. You're lying!" Eva rejected with tears starting to well in her eyes.

"I wish that I was, Eva. I really do." Tallis said sorrowfully as she walked out of the cell.

Tallis had done a lot of things she wasn't proud of for the ben-hessrath, but this? Kidnapping a little girl from her home, locking in her chains, then leaving her crying on the floor after telling her that her father's going to die? It had to be the shittiest thing Tallis had ever done. She wished she could do something for Eva, but Isskari was right. Taking action outside her role had endangered her position in the Qun many times, and if she were to mess up in an operation this big, with someone as high-ranking as the Viddasala overseeing it, Tallis might very well lose her role in the Qun altogether.

"Asit Tal-eb. Asit Tal-eb. Asit Tal-eb." Tallis repeated to herself like a mantra, trying to bury the horrible sense of guilt she was feeling beneath the certainty of the Qun. "Asit Tal-eb. It must be."

**~XoXoXo~**

The Inquisitor and his comrades made their way back to the Crossroads and searched for the location of the mirror that note they found on the qunari spy mentioned. When they arrived there, all they found was the same land paths that had been left there. Earlier, the qunari made these land bridges connect between the islands somehow, and the magic of this place was certainly capable of doing the unexpected. The only question was how to find it?

All of them searched for anything that might raise the path to the other floating island to find this mirror marked by a bookcase. One object they found resting right next to the very end of the bridge. It looked like a giant purple egg with a spiraling top and a handprint stamped on it. Whether it served some kind of function or was purely decorative was uncertain.

"Hmm? Now isn't this a pretty little thing." Zevran observed curiously eyeing the strange egg like he was a magpie looking at a bauble. "You know, I think this would look outstanding on my mantelpiece back in Antiva."

"Zevran, maybe you shouldn't..."

But Rajmael's warning came to late. The instant Zevran's hand touched the handprint on the artifact, the bridge behind them vanished, or more like melted away into oblivion and leaving nothing but empty air between the two islands. Everyone glared at the Antivan Crow's impulsive and nearly ill-fated impulsive action.

"Heh-heh. Sorry about that everyone. No harm, no foul, right?" Zevran said sheepishly. He quickly tapped the icon on the object again, and the bridge reappeared like an invisible veil had been covering it.

"Zevran, you are so lucky none of us were on that." Aedan warned agitatedly. "And this isn't the first time your wandering hands have nearly gotten me and others in trouble! From now on, unless we're killing someone, keep your hand in your pockets!"

"So that's how the qunari have been reaching to the other islands." Hawke realized.

Sera groaned in frustration at the discovery they just made. "Ugh. Why can't rocks in this place stay where they're supposed to like they're supposed to? Stupid magic!"

"Hmph. The Viddasala's got to be desperate if she's risking her men by sending them to play hopscotch across magic floating islands." Iron Bull grumbled.

"I've seen temples back in Minrathous that still float above the ground, but nothing like this. I wonder what other things the ancient elves created." Dorian observed rather impressed.

"Well, now we can put them to some good use and get to the Viddasala." Rajmael stated.

The Inquisitor touched the nearby activation stone and the massive stones appeared out of thin air and rearranged themselves to form a solid bridge for them to cross. Everyone wasted no time and quickly crossed the magical land path to the third island. They followed the tiled path up to the small island's summit where they found the eluvian marked by a bookcase, several of them in fact. There were so many books that many of them spilled off their shelves and were pilled into small towers all of the floor.

"An eluvian marked by a bookshelf. This must be it." Rajmael realized.

"Then let us get answers from this Viddasala, and take Eva back." Cassandra said severely.

Everyone filed through the eluvian, trying as hard as they could to mentally prepare themselves for wherever this mirror might send them.

**~XoXoXo~**

The mirror transported them to yet another elven ruin, except this was different than the others they visited. It was a ruin of elven make, but it was like they were transported to a different area within the realm between the Fade and the physical world. A ruin built upon an island within the infinite abyss of light, much larger than the ones they had seen previously. No walls, no roof, it was as if the ancient elves didn't want to cut themselves off the from the majesty of this realm, like they wanted to declare their mastery over their ability by making this an open-air building.

The sight of it practically stole Rajmael's breath from his lungs. This was no ancient temple where rituals of piety were practiced, nor was it a long burial sight where the ancient elves interred their dead. Shelves of books upon books, entire volumes of ancient and forgotten lore stacked on tables and the floor. This was a place of learning. A place of knowledge, everything Rajmael had sought his entire life.

"I don't believe it. Look at all these books!" Rajmael marveled like a wide-eyed child. "Is this some sort of ancient elven library?"

"We should be careful. This place feel like it was torn apart by so horrible magical backlash a long time ago. This place is still feeling the effect of it." Dorian warned cautiously.

It was true. Rajmael could feel the backlash Dorian was referring to. This place didn't feel whole. Like something just ripped massive holes into the structure of this place. Despite how grand this place seemed, it was not as great as it once was. Like a mirror that had been shattered, pieces had broken off of it and it was no longer whole. What could have happened to this place?

"Hmph. This place stinks of magical crap. Why would the Viddasala want to come here? What does she hope to find?" Iron Bull wondered, irritated by where they were.

"Well, this is a library, possibly full of lost knowledge, I daresay she must searching for some sort knowledge that pertains to her goal." Vivienne deduced.

Despite the urgency of their mission, Rajmael was compelled by his very nature as a Dalish elf to grab one of the books and read its contents. When he opened the cover, he flashing images fly past him, like he was being pulled through a tunnel at an impossible speed. In the blink of an eye, he found himself standing before a sight he could scarcely believe he was seeing. A city of glass spires so blue they made his eyes ache pressed against a crimson setting sun. The city's outskirts are wrapped in lakes of mist, and figures stroll along the pearly, glowing strips as if they walked on solid ground. Groves of trees woven into enormous parks shelter elves in quiet hollows, while other elves walk below a river churning along an invisible shoal in the air.

This was no mere illusion or image conjured by magic playing before Rajmael's eyes. He could feel the cool breeze on his skin, hear the magic of the city humming, smell the sweetness of the air around him. Rajmael was actually seeing the memory of an elven city, in a time when his people were masters of the world. The book fell from Rajmael's hands, and he found himself standing back in the middle of the shattered library, with his comrades looking at him with queer looks.

"Rajmael, are you alright? You seemed like you were dazing out of it for a moment." Cassandra asked, deeply concerned.

"Yeah, you looked at that book, then it was like you weren't even there." Varric pointed out. "Are you alright?"

Rajmael found it difficult to remain calm over what he had just seen. For the first time in years, he felt that excited sense of wonder and amazement at discovering another piece of his people's knowledge and history. More so than he could have ever imagined. "I...I saw it. This book, all of them, every book here, they're not merely descriptions written on paper. They don't describe history, they are history! I saw the memories that were laid out in this book like I was actually there! All these tomes and volumes, they're the memories of my people!"

"You mean you didn't read the book, you actually witnessed it?" Dorian asked astonished. "That's amazing."

"Something that so completely captures the memory of the writer that it actually shows it to you? I've never heard of such magic." Vivienne admitted.

"This is a place of memories. A place where others could learn from others, witness the world around them. It remembers what others have forgotten." Cole spoke insightfully.

"To be able to witness history instead of learning from hearsay? There are many scholars who would give their lives for such knowledge, and just as many who would wish to cover it up." Cassandra said insightfully. "How much actual truth do you think we could learn from these tomes? Truth that hasn't been mired in prejudice and politics?"

"I wonder how the elves ever managed to create such magic. Did they pluck the memories from someone's head and put it in a book, or did they have the book just watch what was going on?" Ranier said curiously, unable to imagine how magic truly works.

"Books are usually boring, and these magic ones sound creepy. Unless they got naughty books stashed around here somewhere." Sera said mischievously.

"Well, this puts everything the Shaperate has back in Orzammar to shame. You think there's an instruction manual around here about how to write books like that?" Varric asked with a sly grin on his face. "Cause I know there's people who would pay a fortune to actually witness some of the scenes I've got in Hard in Hightown."

"Maker knows I would." Zevran chuckled lewdly.

Hawke scanned all the books surrounding them and shared the Inquisitor's astonishment. "Can you imagine it? For all we know, the entire history of the elves is written here. This place could revive the elven people's entire culture! What I would give to have Merrill here right now."

"You all might want to be careful what you wish for." Aedan said grimly. "If there's one thing I've learned the hard way, it's that the truth is never always what you want it to be. We already know that there are some blemishes on the history of the ancient elves. Who knows what other dark secrets might linger here, secrets no one will want to know."

While his comrades continued with their comments and banter, Rajmael picked up another book at random, wanting to see another piece of his people's history without considering any kind of consequence. Rajmael opened the covers of the tome and felt himself transported into memories hidden within its pages.

Rajmael stood on narrow a plateau of a mountain capped in snow. He found himself wearing a suit of armor of ancient and majestic make that was unlike anything he had ever seen before. It was as black as jet that fit him like a second skin, and he could feel the magic that was forged into it. Approaching Rajmael from the other side of the plateau was another elven knight. This one was clad in equally magnificent armor that shined like gold. On his hip, he carried a sylvanwood sword, just like Rajmael's enasalin. On the elven knight's face, he bore the same vallaslin that Nethras carried when Rajmael dueled him: the Vallaslin of Elgar'nan.

The golden knight bowed to Rajmael in respect, and the Inquisitor felt an involuntary compulsion to return the gesture, like he was acting out this scene for whosever memory this was. Rajmael was not in control of his actions, his body moved by the will of another, like a puppet on a stage. The two of them faced towards the horizon, and knelt in deepest reverence and recited an ancient prayer whose words Rajmael did not understand. The two elven knight then faced one another, drew their sylvanwood swords, and engaged each other with fearsome and murderous intensity.

Rajmael couldn't believe what was happening to him. He was not in control of his own body, yet his movements, his technique was greater than it had ever been before in all his years of training and combat. The two of them moved so fast that time seemed to have stopped, and their blades hummed loudly as they cut through the air. Both of them exchanged attacks at one another, each of them trying to surpass each other with their technique.

The sun rose and set countless times and the moons passed through all their phases over the two of elven knights fought ferociously against one another as what felt like a century passed over them, all while neither one backing down or giving quarter to the other. Blood began to speck the ground as they knocked pieces of their armor off their bodies, but neither one of them stopped to acknowledge the pain, or even breath. Then it happened. It happened so fast, Rajmael didn't even see it until it was too late. The golden knight slashed his blade across Rajmael's neck and opened his throat. Rajmael fell to the ground, his blood spurting from the open wound in his neck. The golden knight stood over his dying opponent and bowed in respect for such an intense and noble duel.

As Rajmael's vision began to fade, he heard a strange voice whispering in the back of his mind in the elvhen language, yet he understood it like it was the common tongue.

**_"Mythal, in her wisdom, interceded in an argument between Elgar'nan and Falon'Din. With clever words, she convince them to settle their grievance through a battle of their champions. Elgar'nan and Falon'Din agreed, and set their champions against each other rather than declare war among the gods. May those knights long be remembered, and Mythal's wisdom be praised."_**

Mythal had averted war amongst the Evanuris by proposing a duel? These two magnificent knights fought one another with such intensity to save their people from a war of godlike proportions. The black knight whose memory Rajmael was living died to protect his people and to uphold the honor of the god he served. There could have been no greater honor than that for an Arcane Warrior. And as Rajmael's eyes began to fade into total blackness, he realized that despite all his years of training, all the technique and skill he had mastered, his mastery of the Dirth'ena Enasalin was nothing compared to his ancestors.

Rajmael's eyes closed and when he opened them again, he found himself standing once more amongst his comrades. It seemed as if only seconds had past, yet he witnessed what felt like a century in single man's lifetime. He unconsciously clutched at his neck, as if the wound he had suffered in that memory were still there. He was thankful to find that his throat had not been sliced open.

As the Inquisitor recovered from his second out-of-body experience, Hawke curiously picked up a book from one of the nearby tables and scanned its contents. What he found behind on those pages left his mouth hanging open and his eyes almost bugging out of his head.

"General, I think you need to see this." Hawke said handing the book over to the Fereldan officer with that astonished look on his face.

Aedan took the tome from the Champion, interested in what had him so astonished. Aedan flipped through the pages, and couldn't believe what he was reading. Now he understood what had shocked the Champion so completely. Every page in this book had been written on, but it only repeated the same word over and over again. Enchantment. Enchantment, enchantment. Enchantment! Aedan flipped back to the front of the book and looked at the cover. It was titled: _The Very Private Diary of Sandal Feddic_, **DO NOT READ!**

"You have got to be shitting me!" Aedan said confounded, unable to take his eyes of the diary in front of him.

"You think we should tell the others?" Hawke asked curiously.

"Nope! No way. We've got enough weirdness to deal with at the moment." Aedan refused staunchly.

"You're probably right. I doubt we could get a straight answer about this anyway." Hawke agreed. "Some questions are just better left unanswered."

"Did you two handsome heroes find something interesting?" Zevran asked curiously.

**_"NO!"_ **The Hero and the Champion both denied adamantly.

"Andaran atish'an, mirthadra elvhen." Said an ethereal voice that startled all of them. Sera was so surprised that she shrieked and dropped the book she grabbed.

Everyone turned around and was surprised to see a strange spirit standing behind them. Unlike the other spirits they had encountered on this adventure, this one didn't seem hostile. Quite the contrary, it seemed rather friendly. It even picked up the book Sera dropped and placed it back on one of the shelves before presenting itself before Rajmael and gave him a polite bow.

"Aneth'ara dirth'ena enasalin tir Dirthamen." The spirit greeted politely.

"Another spirit, and it speaks the tongue of my ancestors, like those sentries we encountered in the Valley of the Dread Wolf." Rajmael observed.

"If you wish, honored Arcane Warrior, I will speak so that your guests may understand." The spirit graciously offered. "I am Study. I am a learning thirst. Come, know what has not been lost. New words. New stories. The Qunari would not approach us, but we learned their tongue as well. If you wish to exchange knowledge with these other guests, they congregate near the lower gate."

"How do you know that I am an Arcane Warrior?" Rajmael inquired.

"Your magic and your weapon are an unmistakable sign of your status, honored guest. And your vallaslin is that of the God of Knowledge and Fortune, Exalted Dirthamen. It is natural for one such as you to have come here."

"I am searching for a Qunari called the Viddasala. Can you tell me what she's doing here?" Rajmael asked.

"Viddasala. Yes. She uses scholars and mages for study. Mages bound in chains and collars. They fear this place, but seek knowledge of the Veil."

Rajmael's eyebrow quirked with instinctive curiosity. "The Veil? What could the Viddasala possibly want to know about the Veil?"

"I regret I have no more information, honored Arcane Warrior." The Spirit of Study answered sincerely. "I am sundered from myself. If you discover another one of me nearer the Qunari, I might know more of them. Kindly give it my greetings, I have not thought with myself in countless ages."

"You're a Spirit of Knowledge then? Are there more of you here?" Rajmael asked deeply curious.

"Yes, I am, we are, the Archivist. We are the stewards of this place. We keep the knowledge gathered by the elvhen alive, ensure that what survived the Fall isn't lost."

Despite the urgency of their mission, Rajmael was compelled by his very nature as a Dalish elf to ask questions of this spirit regarding his people. This might be the only opportunity he will ever have to learn any new truths about them.

"What is this place? What did my ancestors use it for?"

After so many countless years of isolation, the Spirit of Study was happy to converse with someone who sought to learn. "This is the Vir Dirthara. The Path of Knowledge. The living knowledge and memory of the empire. The libraries of every city. The wisdom of every court. A connecting place whose paths are in disarray."

"Why is the Vir Dirthara in disarray? What happened to this place?"

"The Vir Dirthara was made with the world and the Fade. When they were sundered, so were we." The Archivist answered sorrowfully. "Paths broke, knowledge fragmented. Many were trapped here. I preserve their last words."

"Last words?"

_"What happened? Where are the path? Where are the paths!? Gods save me, the floor is gone! Do not let me fall! Do not let...!"_ The Spirit recalled and mimicked the voices with vivid detail. As if the doomed voices were actually screaming through her. "On this spot, that is all."

"Well, that's a pretty picture. Thanks." Iron Bull said sarcastically.

"Creepy spirit is creepy. We should stop talking to it." Sera shuddered."

"Nothing scarier than watching other people die." Hawke said dourly.

Rajmael's scholarly compulsion became even stronger the more this spirit spoke to him. Like an addict getting a taste for a new, stronger narcotic. He had to have more. "Please, what else can you tell me about my people? What were my ancestors like? How old is our history?"

"I will try to recall, honored patron, but there are gaps...breaks...Greetings. Laughter. Emma enasal. Forms out of air. Light. Memories." The Archivist struggled to remember so much, but something was causing it pain. Like a person trying to recite a poem while having a seizure. It tried, but it was so hard. "Aneth'ara! So many. Paths broken at every...Missing. Missing. Missing!"

"Stop! Please, stop." Cole begged compassionately. "You don't need to hurt yourself."

"Yes, I...wisdom from Compassion. Yes, I will stop." The Spirit of Study said graciously, finally calming down. "My apologies, honored patron. I knew all once. We all knew. With the Break, we all remember only fragments or new knowledge, ever since the Fall. You may find the answers you seek within the halls of the library, or with the other parts of me that have fragmented from each other."

Seeing that he wasn't going to get any more answers from this poor spirit, and remembering his purpose for being here, Rajmael decided it was time to move on. "Ma nuvinen, elgar, but we must continue on now."

"Know this, Arcane Warrior: An unknown person, not of the qunari, has awoken the Librarians." The Archivist warned.

"An unknown person? Might be that agent of Fen'heral that's been harassing the qunari." Hawke deduced. "Perhaps this agent and the Vir Banal'ras you mentioned really _are_ the same thing."

"The Librarians facilitated learning and maintained the order of the Library before the fracture. Before the Fall." The Spirit of Study continued forebodingly. "Now, beware them. They are...unwell. Detached from what they once were."

**~XoXoXo~**

Taking the Archivist's warning seriously, Rajmael and his companions continued onward. As they walked further, they paid witness to the expansion of the Spirit Library, and were awed by both its glory and its ruin. Like the Crossroads, there were expansive islands hanging above the misty abyss, but these were held up by immense pillars of stone that extended down into the infinite nothingness. All the buildings on the islands had been shattered, leaving behind shattered walls, fallen statues, and broken bricks that littered the ground. Despite its ruin, the library was still glorious in its own way. The elven architecture that still stood was as vibrant as the day it was built, and those artificial elven trees still hummed with softly glowing magic. And the statues that remained standing still retained their majesty.

"Has my sanity finally snapped, or am I actually seeing this?" Aedan asked disbelievingly as he pointed up towards the sky.

All of them looked upwards and suddenly shared the Hero's sentiment. Instead of looking up to see a skyline, all of them were looking up at yet another island hanging upside down right above their heads. The island housed another ruin with an active eluvian shimmering on it. Rajmael could see an active campsite on the airborne island, where the qunari were carrying out some kind of operation.

"There's the qunari! On that...upside down island." Rajmael pointed.

"Aww, shit! Can't anything be the way it supposed to in this damned place!?" Iron Bull groaned in frustration.

"It appears that the laws of physics are bent in this realm, being in between the Fade and the real world." Hawke deduced logically. "Maybe _we're_ the ones who are actually upside down."

"Hawke, that's really not helping right now." Varric said nervously. Suddenly, he began to appreciate the infamous fear of recently exiled dwarves' fear of falling off the world and found it not so ridiculous.

"Look, over there. Another mirror. Maybe it can take us over to where those qunari are camped." Ranier pointed to the other side of a narrow bridge whose path had been shattered to pieces. On the other side of the infinite chasm, there stood an active eluvian.

"There is no way we're making it over there." Dorian stated, observing the immense distance between them and that mirror over the endless void beneath them.

"The qunari somehow did. We need to find a way across." Cassandra determined. The Seeker noticed another one of those strange egg-like activation stones and decided to touch to see if it could create a path. Sure enough, when she touched the handprint on it, it activated several large stones that floated over the voice and reconnected as a section of the bridge.

"Well, that did the trick, but it's not enough to get us across. We need to find more activation stones if we're going to make it to the qunari, and the Viddasala." Rajmael said purposefully. He looked over towards the nearby broken building and saw another active eluvian resting inside. "Come on, maybe we'll find more activation stones this way. And keep an eye out for any clues the qunari may have left behind that can give some indication about what they're doing here."

**~XoXoXo~**

They all emerged from the other side of the eluvian and found themselves in another a large chamber within the library. There were shelves of books on all sides of the spacious room, all over loaded with those magical books. The chamber was so immense it could have housed the Skyhold throne room in it. It must have been some sort of crossroad travel center for the library, judging from the several eluvians housed inside, including the one they just walked through.

In the dead center of the expansive chamber was one of those strange artificial elven trees, and it was crackling with magic. It looked as if it's forged branches were crackling with green fire. Rajmael didn't know why, but he felt some sort of impulse to approach the strange artifact, like it was somehow calling out to him. The tree ignited brightly, and the Anchor in Rajmael's palm flared like a torch, burning his hand all the way up to his shoulder.

Rajmael grasped his left hand and shouted in pain at the surge of power flaring from the mark.

"Your mark, Rajmael, it's getting worse." Cassandra said deeply worried.

"What...what's happening to this thing?" Rajmael gritted through his teeth.

"Did you see what happened? The Anchor reacted to magic, _elven_ magic." Dorian pointed out.

"All these eluvians start activating and all this ancient elven magic starts coming to life for the first time in countless millennia, and the Inquisitor's mark starts acting out. This cannot be a coincidence." Hawke informed thoughtfully. "Somehow, whatever's going on here is having an effect on the Inquisitor."

"Is it possible that the qunari's actions here are what's causing all this?" Aedan suggested.

"It certainly seems possible." Vivienne agreed pensively. "Meddling with magic they do not understand in some mad attempt to commit a terrorist plot, it would certainly have some magical ramifications."

"Maybe this part of the qunari's plan: kill the Inquisitor with his own damned mark so her can't stop them like he did Corypheus." Ranier suggested contemptuously.

"If only Solas were here. I'm sure he could find some kind of solution to this ancient magic stuff." Varric sighed.

"Yeah, too bad he beat feet and disappeared like a pansy." Sera snorted.

"No, no. He didn't run. He had his own quest to fulfil after he helped us." Cole said quietly, but everyone ignored.

"Hey, Boss, can you walk? That thing gonna keep being a problem?" Iron Bull asked with concern for his friend and employer.

Rajmael staggered to his feet, flexed his hand and felt the pain starting to die down in his palm. This was getting worse, but he had no time for it. He had to save Eva before worrying about his own pain.

"I'm fine. This isn't going to stop me. We'll worry about it later." Rajmael assured.

The Inquisitor approached the active eluvian on the western side of the chamber. Next to it was the ruined statue of an elven woman that had be broken to pieces. Rajmael looked at the broken pieces of the statue and saw the images of halla and the woman's head was masked and bore antlers. Despite its ruin, the woman's carved face was still beautiful and her eyes seemed to be filled it knowledge. Unlike the rest of the library, which had been shattered by some terrible tragedy, this statue looked like it had been smashed. Like whoever broke it was angry at the statue.

"Wonder who this lady is, or was?" Iron Bull said curiously.

"It has to be Ghilan'nain, the elven goddess of guidance and Mother of Halla." Rajmael answered insightfully. He noticed something resting on Ghilan'nain's face. It was a ripped page that could have been from any one of these books, but someone intentionally left it here.

Rajmael picked up the page, and wasn't transported to some distant memory because of its ruin. The paper was written in ancient elven, but the pages morphed and changed so that Rajmael could read it. It told a fascinating story.

**_Ghilan'nain kept herself apart from the People. She used her power to create animals none had ever seen. The skies teemed with her monsters, the land with her beasts. Andruil hunted them all, and after a year of killing, approached Ghilan'nain with an offer: the gods would share their power with Ghilan'nain, but only if she destroyed her creations, for they were too untamed to remain among the People. Ghilan'nain agreed and asked for three days to undo what she had made. _**

**_On the first day she struck down the monsters of the air, except those she presented to Andruil as a gift. _**

**_On the second day she drowned the giants of the sea, except those who lurked in deepest water, for they were too well-wrought, and Pride stopped her hand. _**

**_On the third day she killed the beasts of the land, except the halla, whose grace she loved above all else. _**

**_This is how Ghilan'nain was made youngest of the gods._**

"This...this is why Ghilan'nain is considered the youngest of the elven gods and why her legends are associated with Anruil?" Rajmael said piecing all this together. "Once you peel back the lairs, there _is_ truth to be found in our myths."

"As a guy who bullshits for a living, I can tell you that any story ever written, whether it's true or false, got its start somewhere." Varric informed.

"Yeah, then guys like you come along and mess up the details, which further obscures the details." Hawke spoke from personal experience.

"You gotta remember Hawke, that when most people retell as story, they tell it in a way that suits the listener. Like most facts of history." Varric reminded.

"How extraordinary." Dorian remarked. "Even in the ancient Imperium, Tevinter relied on a class of holy priests to commune with the Old Gods and decipher their wishes. The ancient elves, on the other hand, seemed to have had direct contact with their gods."

"So this Ghilan'nain was granted divine status by the goddess of the hunt after creating powerful beasts and then destroyed them? Hm. What a means of promotion." Aedan commented, rather impressed.

"Is that a compliment from you, Lord Cousland?" Cassandra questioned skeptically. "I would have thought you would have cursed at such folly."

"Folly? Don't be stupid, Pentaghast. This woman obviously wielded great power, enough to where even the mighty goddess of the hunt was forced to treat with her. The only bargaining chip the Evanuris could grant Ghilan'nain in exchange for destroying her own creations was to grant her godhood. An accomplishment like that demands respect." Aedan responded staunchly. "It's a more worthy exchange for divinity than what Andraste did."

"In any event, it proves that my people's myths are more than just that. Our history is based in truth, only mired in countless millennia of forgotten and misinterpreted lore." Rajmael realized. "I wonder what else the Vir Dirthara can reveal about my people."

"Maybe we'll find more as we go. We should keep going." Ranier suggested.

Listening to Ranier's suggestion, Rajmael tucked the page into his pocket, burning its words, its truth into his mind, so that he might not forget it. If he did not survive this quest, he had to make sure that this information reached his people. They deserved to know the truth and no longer live in ignorance. They must know the truth of their gods.

**~XoXoXo~**

All of them emerged from the eluvian and walked into another destroyed section of this expansive ruin. Vines of ivy as thick as ropes clung to the walls, books littering the ground off their broken shelves, the walls around them crumbling. Most disturbing of all was all the bodies that were scattered on the ground. All around the mirror and scattered across the room were the dead corpses of the qunari soldiers that came to this chamber. They came here searching for something, only to find their deaths.

"Holy shit. What happened here?" Varric asked at the disturbing sight.

"Looks like the scouts that were sent here found more than they could handle." Iron Bull snorted.

"Look at their bodies." Hawke observed. "Not a mark on them. No wounds, no signs of trauma, but their faces? Bug-eyes with their jaws locked open, it's almost as if these qunari died of fright."

"They didn't even have a chance to grab their weapons. Whatever did this, it killed them instantly." Aedan noted.

Cole looked down on the dead qunari soldiers with sympathy on his face. "They came here, full of purpose, ready to fulfill their role. They wouldn't be stopped, not while they had orders. Then something came through the mirror. They were scared, then they were dead."

"Can't you stop being so creepy all the time!?" Sera shuddered at Cole's description.

"Well, maybe that thing over there can give us the answers we need." Ranier pointed over to a nearby spirit that appeared to have been trying to tidy up one of the nearby bookshelves.

"Looks like the Archivist. Must be another one of those aspects of itself that it mentioned earlier." Dorian reminded.

The aspect of the Spirit of Study noticed it had guests and approached them almost with a sense of excitement. "Visitors! Patrons, welcome. Listen to the last words of those who lived past the Fall."

**_"How could the Dread Wolf cast a Veil between the World the Dream and The World the Wakes?!"_ **A strange voice cried in agony.

_**"The Evanuris will send people. They will save us!"**_ Another voice whimpered in vain hope.

_**"When have you last heard from the gods? When the Dread Wolf cast the Veil, they went silent!"** _A doomed voice shouted in finality.

Rajmael's face was painted completely witch shock, his eyes with disbelief. "I don't believe it. Are you saying that it was Fen'heral who cast the Veil between the waking and dreaming worlds?"

"Impossible!" Vivienne admonished adamantly. "If there were a time when the Veil didn't exist, there'd be some record of it in human history."

"Except this isn't human history." Hawke reminded sternly. "Elven history far predates our species. After the Imperium enslaved the elves, they went to great lengths to destroy any trace and evidence of the elves' history. Anything that might have made the elves seem like a mighty people. No different than what the Chantry did."

"Can you imagine the implications this knowledge has? It could revolutionize and overturn history as we know it!" Dorian said excitedly. "Well, more so than what we've already done."

"This place remembers. It still holds on to the days when dreaming and waking were the same." Cole said.

"I wonder if Solas knew about this. I remember he used to talk about what would world be like if there was no Veil." Ranier recalled thoughtfully. "I thought he was just being bonkers with his obsession with spirits, but maybe he on to something after all."

"What? A world, no Veil, Fade and real all mixed together? Demons and things walking around? No, no, no! Not listening to this!" Sera denied, plugging her ears, trying to block it out.

Iron Bull snorted agitatedly at all this magical discovery they were making. "Magic mirror crap. Floating islands crap, demon crap! Ugh! I'm gonna need someone to hit me with the stick again once we're all done with this!"

"Ooh! That sounds like fun, count me." Zevran volunteered excitedly. "Is it as dirty as it sounds?"

"Not in public, at least." Dorian said under his breath.

"This cannot be the real truth." Cassandra tried to dismiss skeptically. "The Chant of Light...it teaches that the Maker created the Fade and real world separate from each other. How can this be?"

A faint, stifled chuckle escaped Aedan's lips, and he did his best to keep himself from smiling. Despite his efforts to hide it, it was obvious that there was something about this discovery that amused him deeply.

Rajmael's head was twisting into knots. The Dread Wolf erected the Veil between the Fade and waking world? How could he have done that, and why? If he was such revolutionary, why did he destroy the people he was trying to save? None of this was making any sense, but he had to keep focused on the mission.

"Can you help us raise the bridge to that upside-down island?"

"You wish to go further into the Vir Dirthara, honored Arcane Warrior? Touch the activation stone, it will take you to your destination." The Archivist pointed to another of the egg-like stones. Rajmael touched it and some of the debris on the ground floated back to the bridge. "The way is still not open to you. Go to the broken tower and speak with the other part of me to raise the next part of the bridge."

"Can you tell us what happened to the qunari here, spirit?" Aedan inquired.

"The qunari, yes. They came here seeking information. I tried to help them, but they ignored me. When the Librarians came and saw them abusing the books, they reprimanded them." The Archivist answered casually.

"Shit. I'd hate to have an overdue book in this library. These guys must mean business." Aedan commented.

"Come on. Let's head back to that courtyard and see where that other mirror takes us." Rajmael instructed.

**~XoXoXo~**

All of them made their way back to the central courtyard. Many of them found it annoying and tedious having to do all this backtracking and walking around in circles, but it was the only way they could navigate through this place. Still, it was much better than being lost and possibly running into those Librarians. After what they did to those qunari, none of them were eager to find out just what the Librarians actually were.

They made their way through the second eluvian in the courtyard and arrived at the summit of a broken tower. It looked as if some kind of explosion just tore the roof of this place, leaving it open to the endless sky. In the center of the section they stood at was another elven tree artifact surrounded by a circle of elven statues in the shape of hooded priests making offering to the tree. And surrounding those statues were even more dead qunari. Just like the ones they saw before, their faces were frozen in terror, their eyes wide open, and not a wound on their bodies.

"Well, look what we have here. More qunari who look like they died shitting themselves." Aedan said disdainfully.

"Looks like the qunari came here looking for trouble and found more than they could handle." Zevran commented.

"These Librarians, whatever they are, we must be careful of them." Hawke warned. "Dying of fright is no small thing. Even a coward can't die that easily."

"That's a good point." Iron Bull agreed. "Qunari soldier train to fight magic and even demonic encounters for when we fight the Vints, so don't scare easily. Whatever did this to these guys, it's really bad. I hate demons."

"It could be a fear demon, but I have never encountered or heard of one that could kill like this. We must be on our guard." Cassandra said cautiously.

"Maybe we should just try ignoring all the dead qunari on the ground and find a way to lift that bridge as quickly as possible, so we don't have to encounter these Librarians form hell?" Varric urged insistently.

"If you're looking for the Librarians, I fear you have just missed them." Spoke an echoing ethereal voice. It was a third aspect of the Archivist. It came out of nowhere so suddenly that Varric, Sera, and even Iron Bull jumped in shock.

"Damn it, I wish these things would stop doing that!" Iron Bull shouted.

"Do these gotta be so creepy all the friggin' time!?" Sera screeched in outrage.

"It was bad enough when Cole was lurking around the place, but these guys are even worse." Varric said trying to keep his heart from jumping out of his mouth.

"Aneth'ara. I welcome you, honored Dirth'ena Enasalin and your guests." The Archivist greeted. "Come, listen to the last words of those who last walked this place."

_**"If we get out of here, I will end Fen'heral myself!"** _An enraged voice swore.

_**"After he held back the sky to imprison the gods, the Dread Wolf disappeared."**_ Another voice said with deep melancholy.

_**"Lies! We must tear down this Veil! The cities, the pathways...without magic, They're crumbling!"**_

_**"You're wasting your time. Fen'heral's Veil has already turned our empire into ruins."**_

This revelation hit Rajmael harder than any weapon possibly could. "That...that's what happened to Elvhenan? The empire of my ancestors collapsed because the Veil weakened magic? Without magic, everything they built couldn't sustain itself."

"What Abelas said was true." Dorian acknowledged. "The elven empire collapsed on itself, and without magic, they couldn't have possibly have been as powerful as they were. My ancestors just came along and scavenged what was left."

"If what we're hearing is true, it would have been a disaster beyond all measure." Cassandra said, hardly able to believe this herself. "And this tragedy was done by one of their own kind?"

"That doesn't make any sense." said Ranier. "I thought this Fen'heral was trying to free his people, but instead he destroyed them?"

"So this Dread Wolf guy is the reason why there's a Veil?" Iron Bull asked rhetorically. "Man, we must have been ass-deep in demons back then!"

"That's not such a bad thing, is it?" Sera asked skeptically. "I mean, sure it was bad and all, and Fenny was a real shit to do it, but now we got no demons and crap worry about, right?"

"Of course it's a bad thing, you silly twit!" Zevran responded in outrage. He couldn't believe another elf could possibly think that. "You think elves have it better now than when we did before this happened? How many elves who live like slaves or in complete ruin and poverty would gladly put up with demons and magic just to have a fraction of this world of theirs back? How ignorant can you be to think this tragedy benefitted the elves?"

"Damn. Now, I am really glad Daisy isn't here for this." Varric sighed sadly. "A majestic empire of great wonders, a people once proud and mighty brought low, and try so desperately to cling to that greatness only to fall short at every turn. And worst of all, it was their own kind that did them in. I guess the elves and dwarves have more in common than anyone could possibly know."

Cole looked down at the ground with great sympathy and sorrow for what happened here. "Lost, desperate, and alone. The people who lived past the Fall were left to die here, alone and forgotten. Just like I was."

"A sad fate for a great empire, the elves certainly did not deserve what befell them." Vivienne said sympathetically. "The ancient elves trusted so completely that the world as they knew it would never change. This rubble is the legacy of that trust. Magic is a tool to be used, not a resource to be depended on. Perhaps it is best their little secrets remain lost."

"Oh, would you shut up, you dried-out, ignorant, self-serving, social-climbing hag!" Hawke yelled in disgust.

"Excuse me, Champion?" Vivienne asked, offended by Hawke's words.

"No, you are not excused, Enchanter." Hawke said angrily. "Saying that the elves relied to much on magic is like saying we depend too much on the sun. What do you think would happen if some lunatic actually did manage to extinguish the sun? Millions would die from cold and hunger alone, and millions more would die fighting over what was left. That a selfish bitch like you would use this tragedy to strengthen your own agenda is sickening!"

"I'm sorry if you find what I say offensive, Champion, but try not to be so naïve." Vivienne said superciliously. "You're comparing apples to oranges. The sun is a natural part of this world."

"So is mage and the Fade, you stuck-up bitch." Hawke rebutted harshly. "It's the Veil that's unnatural. You're just too weak to adapt to anything that's outside your small world."

Just like before when they learned more about the truth of what befell the elves, Aedan said nothing. He was trying too hard to keep a straight face and stop himself from smiling. Now, after what they had all just heard, Aedan could no longer help himself. A wide grin spread across his face and he began to laugh hysterically, like a madman. He laughed so hard, fell to his knees and started holding his aching sides.

No one, not even Zevran, had ever seen the Hero of Ferelden laugh so hard. Most didn't even think he was capable of laughing like this. Many of them found it disturbing, while Cassandra found it very offensive.

"Really, General Cousland, this is low even for you!" Cassandra said angrily. "How can someone who speaks of living for protecting his people think to find such amusement in the elves' destruction?!"

"Oh, come now, give me some credit, Seeker. What kind of an asshole do you think I am?" Aedan asked as he regained his composure and wiped a humored tear from his eye. "I'm not laughing at the elves, that would be vile. No, I'm laughing at _you_."

"Me?" Cassandra asked taken aback.

"Yes, you and every other Chantry dipshit that's ever lived!" Aedan said with full vindication. "Everything we've learned hear, the true history of the elven people, undoes everything the Chantry says, and proves that the Maker is total bullshit! The Chantry preaches that the Maker created the Fade and the real world as separate realms, but the true history of the elves proves that the Fade and real worlds were originally one and the same. Your Maker had nothing to do with it. Everything you believe in, everything the Chantry teaches, is a fucking lie."

Cassandra clenched her fist in rage until her knuckles turned white. It took every ounce of willpower she had to not to punch the antagonistic general in the face; she remembered what happened when Guard-Captain Aveline did that. Cassandra would not be baited, even though the chance to punch that smugness of his face would be worth it.

"You are..._despicable_." Cassandra cursed loathingly.

"Hey, why should the Inquisitor be the only one here having a crisis of faith." Aedan chuckled. "Maybe once the truth of this is learned and proven, it will knock the Chantry's arrogance down a few pegs."

While his companions were commenting and arguing amongst themselves, Rajmael was trying to comprehend what he had learned throughout this entire ordeal. The spirit and physical worlds were once the same plane of existence. The Evanuris were not true gods, but self-appointed mage-monarchs. Fen'heral was some sort of freedom fighter who led a rebellion of escaped elven slaves against their masters. Then the Dread Wolf erected the Veil, splitting the two worlds apart, and at the same time, he destroyed the very people he was trying to save. Why? Why would he do such a thing? Was his goal not to free them, or was he truly the god of misfortune elven legends painted him to be? The tragedy Fen'heral wrought was what made it possible for elves to have suffered the way they have throughout the course of known history.

"What were the qunari doing here? What were they searching for?" Rajmael finally asked the Archivist.

"I fear I do not know entirely. They took such great effort to ignore me that they failed to realize when the Librarians arrived." The Archivist answered. "They left behind notes that they jotted as they worked."

The spirit handed Rajmael a small stack of papers that had been scribbled down as if the writer were in a hurry to scribe this. Strange algebraic-like formulas were scattered across the paper, spike with dense annotations in Qunlat.

"Are these technical notes?" Rajmael asked, showing the papers to his comrades. "What could the qunari have been studying here?"

"I recognize some of the formulas, but not much else." Dorian said as he glanced the papers. "Some sort of mathematical description on the Veil's strength, but I can't make much else out."

"I think I've seen such formulas studied by the Templars." Vivienne spoke out. "I believe they're looking for ways to strengthen the Veil."

"Makes sense." Iron Bull commented. "If the Veil is what cut the world off from magic, then that's definitely something the Viddasala will want to understand."

"Perhaps she is trying to find a way to recreate the effects of your mark without the use of magic." Hawke suggested.

What Hawke said certainly seemed like what this Viddasala might be after, and these notes certainly supported that theory. Rajmael decided that the best way to get the answers he wanted was to extract them straight from the Viddasala herself.

"Can you raise the bridge that will lead us to that upside down island?" Rajmael requested.

"If that is your desired destination, I will gladly oblige." The Archivist said graciously. She raised her incorporeal arms and several immense stones floated upwards towards the bridge back at the beginning of the library. "The path is open to you now, honored guest."

"Ma nuvenin, elgar." Rajmael said thankfully. "Let's head back to that mirror and see if we can catch up to the Viddasala."

As they walked and stepped over the dead qunari laid across the floor, Rajmael skimmed through the papers the Achivist handed him. He couldn't make much sense of what he held, but there was one paper that captured his attention. It wasn't any note written by the qunari, but in ancient elven. The page had been torn form its originally book, but the magic of the library allowed Rajmael to interpret what was written in this dead language.

**_"Beware the forms of Fen'heral! The Dread Wolf comes in humble guises, a wanderer who knows much of the People and their spirits. He will offer advice that seems fair, but turns slowly to poison. Remember the price of treason, and keep in your heart the mercy of your gods."_**

There was something familiar about the description that was written in this warning, but Rajmael was too focused on the task at hand to give it any real thought. For now, they had to press on and get to the Viddasala. It was the only way he was going to get Eva back.

**~XoXoXo~**

All of them made their way back to the central courtyard where all the mirrors met. As Rajmael walked, he felt something was amiss in this place. Something was wrong. The air suddenly grew colder and he could see his breath fog before his eyes. Rajmael felt an unnatural chill crawl up his spine and heard the faintest sound of must have been clawed feet scurrying on the ground. His heart started racing and he began to feel anxious, like his instincts were telling him to be afraid of this room.

"Hawke, Aedan, do you feel that?"

"I felt it the instant we walked in here." Aedan said, reaching for his axe.

Hawke followed suit and began to reach for his weapon. "We're not alone in here."

"Can't be the qunari. This is something magical." Aedan confirmed. "The fuck is it?"

"The Librarians." Rajmael realized.

**_"DELTASH!"_** The word echoed throughout the courtyard, and light began to die in this place, leaving only darkness behind. Several withered, gaunt creatures with a head that looked like the body of a spider with massive, powerful legs kicking angrily and a tangle of gnarled limbs hung beneath their ragged robe as grotesque spider-like creature skittered between them. Their image was almost identical to the Nightmare Demon Rajmael encountered back at Adamant. The Librarians took the most fearful forms most of their minds could comprehend.

"Hello!" Cole greeted the twisted spirits.

Aedan and the rest of them grabbed their weapons and readied to engage.

"Everyone, stop! Do not engage!" Rajmael ordered crucially. "Avert your eyes, and don't look at them!"

"Inquisitor?" Aedan questioned.

"Do as I say!"

Everyone did what they were told. They were apprehensive to leave themselves vulnerable after what these demons did to the qunari, but the Inquisitor must have known what he was doing.

None of them opened their eyes, even as the twisted spirits of this place circles around them and whispered unknown warnings into their ears, they did not open their eyes. Rajmael bit down on his own lip and forced himself to keep his eyes shut when he felt those vile spider creatures crawling on him. He could feel the slime from their fangs dripping on him. He felt one of the Librarians standing before him. He could smell the creature's horrid breath which reeked of dead flesh and rotten flowers. Rajmael's fight or flight instinct almost took him over when he felt the Librarian's gnarled claw-like hand trace over his face.

Rajmael slowly reached his hand into his coat and grabbed the tablet Velara had given him. Without ever opening his eyes, Rajmael held out the ancient white artifact before the Librarians, hoping for the best.

"Andaran atish'an, elgara. Ir'a vhenallin" Rajmael spoke respectfully as he presented the tablet.

One of the Librarians took the tablet in its grisly claw, and backed away from the Inquisitor.

_**"Atish'all Vir Dirthara, Dirth'ena Enasalin."**_ The ancient spirits greeted.

Rajmael felt the frightful presence that filled this place disappear. The chill in the air was gone and his heart was no longer racing against his will. The Inquisitor cautiously opened his eyes and confirmed that the Librarians were indeed gone.

"It's over everyone, they're gone." Rajmael informed.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief as they opened their eyes. It was against everything they knew when they encountered demons to close their eyes and not touch their weapons, but Rajmael's orders once again kept them safe.

"Andraste's tits, I thought I was gonna soil myself!" Sera shouted, glad that she didn't relieve herself on herself.

"You and me both, Sera." Varric shared the sentiment.

"Man, I am _definitely_ going to need someone to hit me with that stick later." Iron Bull groaned.

"Maker's breath, what did you do, Rajmael?" Cassandra asked completely surprised.

"I gave them the tablet Velara handed me earlier. She said it was a library card. I thought she was pulling another cruel joke on me, but it seemed that she wasn't lying." Rajmael answered.

"Which means whoever she's working for didn't want these spirits to kills us. I wonder why." Aedan stated.

"Just out of curiousity, why didn't you want us to fight those creatures?" Hawke inquired. "We've all faced extremely powerful demons before, I think we could have taken them."

"I'm sure all those dead qunari we saw thought the same thing." Rajmael rebutted. "Unlike other demons any of us encountered, who are reflections of the darker aspects of the world, the Librarians were once benevolent Spirits of Knowledge. They became twisted, hostile creatures of fear after witnessing the destruction and death of an entire people. Even after what they've turned into, they still seek to continue protect this place. They didn't deserve the fate that was dealt to them, and they don't deserve to die for it."

"Well, whatever you did certainly made an impression. Looks like they left something behind for you." Ranier pointed towards the artificial tree which had been raised above the ground, revealing that it housed yet another eluvian housed under its man-made roots.

"Huh. Well, Inquisitor, it would seem that library card this Velara gave was an all-access pass, and the Librarians have no objection us wondering around this place." Zevran chuckled.

Instead of trying to kill them, the Librarians opened a new pass to them that had been previously hidden away. Rajmael was tempted to step through this new mirror to see where it led and what secrets it might have, but he was also tempted to simply ignore it. The bridge had been raised and the path the Viddasala's camp was made clear. Eva was his top priority above everything else. However, spirits like the Librarians wouldn't have granted him such passage if it wouldn't have benefited him.

After a brief internal debate, Rajmael decided to take this new path. Perhaps there was something there that could help him in his quest to save his daughter. The qunari were seeking the knowledge of this place to aid them in their mission, Rajmael would do the same.

**~XoXoXo~**

Rajmael walked through the mysterious eluvian and was transported to the top of an immense tower that was open to the sky. They were all so high up, they couldn't even tell where their destination in the library was. The sight before them was awe inspiring, even as a ruin. Great bookshelves stood like walls around them with images of elven warriors and scholars standing vigil before the vast ocean of knowledge around them. The path before them was tiled with mosaic pieces that depicted halla, dragons, owls, and other magnificent beasts that danced towards the center of the tower.

All of them followed the Inquisitor's lead as he walked to the tower's center. When they made their way there, they were surprised by what was waiting for them. In the center of the tower was an immense shrine surrounding by a circle of pillars made of purest white marble. Columns of books were stacked all around the exterior of the shrine. Empty ink bottles and broken quills scattered the place, after centuries of neglect, they were now useless. Just before the threshold of the shrine was a strange panel with an array of what appeared to be buttons with strange runes carved into them.

At the top of the stairs that led to the shrine was another of the strange elven trees. Unlike the others they saw, this one crackled with a sinister red energy that made one wary just looking at it. Set before that tree was a large stone altar with an ancient locked chest resting on it.

But what immediately caught everyone's attention was the venerable army of dead bodies that lay strewn all over the floor. Just like before, they were all qunari, but this time something was different...

"Andraste's ass! For an ancient ruin that's supposed to be a place knowledge, this place is more like one big deathtrap!" Varric swore as he tiptoed over the dead qunari.

"Did the Librarians do this, too?" Dorian asked, holding a handkerchief in front of his face.

"No, I don't think so. Look at their bodies." Aedan observed. Unlike the previous dead qunari bodies they encountered, the bodies here were covered in wounds with their blood slicking the floor. "Something actually attacked these sorry bastards and killed them."

"Not just something, General." Hawke asserted. "Look at their wounds; no claw marks, no signs of magical attacks. These wounds were done by weapons. The qunari killed each other!"

It was true. When they looked past the surface of the scene, everyone could see that some kind of huge melee broke out amongst the qunari. Their own weapons were plunged into their comrades, hacking into their armor and cutting their bodies. It was as if they had lost all sense of discipline and turned on each other.

"What in the Maker's name could have possessed these soldiers to turn on each other like this?" Ranier wondered in disbelief.

"Rage. Anger. A lust for blood that cannot be quenched. Something awoke the animals that lived inside these men, and they devoured each other until they were all dead." Cole said, sensing the feelings that had been left behind by the slain.

Iron Bull shook his head and snorted in disdain as he tried to wrap his horned head around this. "Weird. Normally, I would think this might have been the work of saar-qamek, a poison gas that induces madness and makes the enemy turn on each other, except that qunari are immune to it. Whatever did this had to have been magic."

"What do you suppose the qunari were looking for here? More knowledge about the Veil?" Vivienne questioned.

"Well, whatever it was, it couldn't have been in any of these books. They're all blank. Nothing written in them." Zevran asserted, tossing one of the ancient tomes to the ground like it was nothing.

"Blank books? I wonder..." Rajmael thought to himself for a moment. He looked at the empty books along with the ink bottles and quills, trying to make sense of this place. "What if...what if the books here aren't meant to blank? Maybe this is the place where ancient elven scholars set down all the memories that are written in this library? What if this is the place where every book in the Vir Dirthara begins?"

"If that's true, then this would surely be the most secure place in the entire library." Cassandra stated. "The ancient elves wouldn't be so careless as to let such knowledge be left unguarded. We must be careful."

"Good point, Cassandra." Rajmael agreed. "Hero, Champion, you two come with me to inspect this place. The rest of you wait over here, and don't touch anything. I don't want any of us to join these qunari on the floor."

The three heroes began inspecting the are around the shrine while the rest of them waited by the threshold. Cassandra heard the sound of painful groaning and hacking coming from that strange panel nearby. Cassandra, Varric, Zevran and Iron Bull cautiously approached the dying qunari soldier who was trying to prop himself back up, but to no avail, he was losing too much blood.

"Stop right there, qunari." Cassandra warned harshly. "You're badly injured and dying. Tell us what you were doing here, and we get you some help."

"I'd do what she says if I were ." Iron Bull informed. "These baas don't play around."

The qunari soldier hacked and spat out blood. He must have had internal bleeding. He looked at the baas standing over him with defiance and anger in his eyes. He would not comply with them. "Miserable, blind baas. You're misguided heroes will not stand in the way of what the Qun demands!"

The soldier slammed his fist onto one of the strange rune buttons then a massive magical shield of red energy sprang appeared between all the columns surrounding the threshold of the shrine, trapping Aedan, Hawke and Rajmael behind it with no way out.

"You son of a...!" Varric cursed and shot the qunari dead with a bolt from Bianca to the head.

The three heroes ran over to the force field wondering what the hell just happened. Aedan tried slamming his axe against the wall of magical energy only for it to redirect the force of his blow back at him. They were effectively trapped here.

"Cassandra, what just happened?" Rajmael asked from the other side of the field.

"There was a qunari survivor. He hit one of those runes, and it must have activated some kind of defense system." Cassandra informed.

"We'll try to find a way to deactivate it." Dorian called out. "Maybe one of these damned books has a manual we can use."

Thunder boomed within the sealed off area. All of them looked up to the top of the shrine where the artifact tree stood. The red magic in its branches crackled and roared like a bonfire. Something was happening. Several powerful beams of crimson energy shot down from the tree and hit all three of the heroes where they stood before they even had a chance to react.

Cassandra, Varric and Zevran screamed the names of their friends and loved one as the blast of energy consume all of them. The beams soon dissipated, leaving behind all three of them on their knees but otherwise unharmed it seemed.

Cassandra couldn't shake off this uneasy feeling that something didn't seem right. She doubted that qunari soldier died to activate this shield and turn on some kind of light-show. There had to have been more to what was happening.

"Rajmael? Are you alright?" Cassandra asked deeply concerned.

Rajmael said nothing. None of them said anything. There was an intensity in all of their eyes. It was like something primitive woke up inside all three of them, and the glared at each other like hated enemies. All three heroes stood and reached for their weapons. Aedan his axe, Hawke's Celebrant, Rajmael's Enasalin. All three heroes assumed their stances, their weapons held ready and full of hunger.

"Rajmael, stop! What are you doing!?" Cassandra yelled desperately.

"Come on, Hawke, what're you thinking? Have you been drinking Aquae Lucidius lately?!" Varric shouted to his friend.

"Aedan? I know you're a battle-hungry savage and all that, but even you're not this insane! Snap out of it!" Zevran called out.

"Oh, sweet Andraste on her pyre..." Dorian gasped in horror. "I think I just realized what's going on."

"What? What is happening Dorian?" Cassandra beseeched.

"This force field isn't a trap. It's an _ARENA!" _Dorian shouted. "The last defense of this place is to make the intruders kill each other!"

**~XoXoXo~**

The three heroes stood silently, their eyes darting back and forth on each other, waiting to see who would make the first move. Their companions could do nothing but shout at them in vain and watch in horror as these three titans of combat prepared to fight each other to the death. Who would make the first move?

The first to break silence was Aedan, for he could never wait to let his enemies make the first move. He charged the Inquisitor, a resounding war cry on his lips, and his axe clutched tightly in his grip, and moved with the force of a stampede, aiming to chop the Dalish elf in half. Rajmael blocked Aedan's gruesome axe with his sword, but the sheer of the blow forced Rajmael to his knees. Aedan brought his immense might to bear and forced his axe down closer and closer to Rajmael's head, that sadistic grin on his face growing wider the closer he got.

Rajmael smiled back up at the Fereldan warlord as he was being forced down, then guided his eyes downward to where he was standing. Aedan eyes went wide when he realized too late that he had been standing on a lightning rune. The rune exploded beneath Aedan's feet and sent him flying backwards. The Hero staggered back to his feet, never once letting go of his axe.

Seeing an opening, both the Champion and the Inquisitor made their moves and attacked the Hero from both sides while he was still recovering from the Inquisitor's lightning rune. Rajmael lunged to impale Aedan through the chest, while Hawke brought his Celebrant down to split his skull in half. Aedan raised his axe over his head to block the Chmapion's attack, then quickly redirected Hawke's greatsword towards the Inquisitor. Rajmael barely dodged Hawke's inadvertent attack in time and the blade grazed his face.

Aedan back kicked Hawke so hard it would have put a mule to shame, and sent the Champion hurdling back several feet. Aedan quickly grabbed the Inquisitor by the neck and smashed his face with a powerful head-butt that broke Rajmael's nose, cheek and orbital with a loud, sickening crunch. Then Aedan lifted his smaller opponent over his head and threw Rajamel at least ten yards away. Rajmael landed on the ground with a resounding crash and squirmed in pain as he tried to heal his shattered face.

The force of the Hero's kick was absorbed by Hawke's armor, and he quickly charged back to continue his assault against the Fereldan General. The two Fereldan heroes exchanged their attacks back and forth, neither one giving ground to the other. Both of them were powerful and seasoned warriors whose training and experience had far exceeded the military training of their youth.

Aedan swung his axe with full force, trying to cleave the Champion in twain with a single blow, but Hawke's greatsword gave him the advantage in reach. Hawke dodged the Hero's attacks with calm, deft precision, and kept the enraged warlord and used his Celebrant to keep him at a distance and off balance. Aedan's style relied more on brutality and intimidation while Hawke focused more on discipline and adaptive tactics.

Hawke stood his ground against Ferelden's most notorious killing machine, and lowered his sword until the tip practically touched the ground, leaving him wide open. Aedan wasted no time, and took this opportunity to chop his opponent in half like a piece of kindling with one devastating blow. The Hero took the Champion's bait. Hawke quickly closed the distance between himself and Aedan before the Hero could complete his strike and placed himself in his opponents center of gravity. Hawke grabbed hold of the shaft of Aedan's axe and redirected his momentum forward, flipping the Hero of Ferelden over his shoulder and on to his back.

Aedan's armor made a loud crash when he landed on the ground. He sprang back up and tried to recover from the Champion's counter-attack, but Hawke's greatsword was already coming down on him. Aedan quickly raised his axe over his head to block the Champion's blade. Aedan's dragonbone weapon and steel plate armor could not withstand Hawke's higher quality and enchanted weapon.

The Celebrant split Aedan's dragonbone axe right in half cut and straight down through his armor, cutting the Hero from his right shoulder to his left hip. A wave of crimson erupted from the giant crag in Aedan's armor and his broken weapon fell from his hands.

"Ghrk! Shit!" Aedan cursed angrily with blood gurgling out of his mouth before falling face down onto the ground.

"Andraste's flaming hot ass!" Varric yelled in shock.

"The Champion just killed the Hero!" Cassandra gasped.

Every single one of them shouted, cursed and gasped at the sight they just witnessed. Not only that Hawke was able to cut the Champion down, but the fact that all three of them were actually trying to kill each other for some unknown reason. Deep down, Varric was glad Hawke wasn't killed by Aedan, but he still couldn't believe his friend actually did that. None of them could believe. Someone was actually able to cut down the notorious Hero of Ferelden. Strangely, the only one who wasn't very phased by witnessing the Hero's demise was Zevran. How could he still be so calm?

Before the Champion could realize where the Inquisitor was, Rajmael, who had completely recovered from Aedan's assault on his face, magically suspended himself in the air and began kicking Hawke in the chest in flight. It was as if the Inquisitor were being held in the air by invisible wires as he relentlessly stomped on the Champion's chest and knocked him backwards into a wall.

Rajmael landed back on the ground and spoke an elven incantation, summoning of storm of lightning between his hands. The spell was so powerful Rajmael could barely hold it in hands. He pushed his palms outward and cast the immensely offensive spell at the Champion in a cone of lightning that shocked and incinerated anything in its path. There was nowhere for the Champion to run, it would consume him.

Hawke held his sword ready and stood his ground against the oncoming spell as if it were another opponent, and refused to move an inch. The lightning spell enveloped the Champion like a tidal wave of destruction. The powerful and unique enchantment of Hawke's armor and sword activated as they had minds of their own. His armor absorbed every ounce of the spells destructive energy and he used his sword to cast the spell right back at its creator and give him a taste of his own medicine.

Rajmael refused to disgrace himself as an Arcan Warrior by running away from a spell he had summoned. His eyes shined like gold as he activated his Shimmering Shield. The ethereal magic of shield glimmering like diamonds around the Inquisitor and protected him from his own redirected lightning spell. The storm he summoned passed over him like rain against a stone wall. Rajmael held his sword high, and prepared to kill the Champion the old-fashioned way.

The Inquisitor and the Champion charged each other down, both their swords blazing with the fire of their enchantments. Hawke's Ferelden Vanguard style versus Rajmael's Dirth'ena Enasalin. Hawke brought the Celebrant down on Rajmael, but the Inquisitor deflected the attack away from him and shot lightning out of his palm back at the Champion. Hawke's armor once again absorbed the magical attack, causing him no damage.

Hawke then lunged forward with his sword, aiming to skewer his elven opponent on the end of his blade. Rajmael used his unique magic to make himself incorporeal, and the Celebrant phased through him like he was made of air. Moving like a ghost past the Champion's blade, Rajmael closed the distance between himself and his opponent and jammed the pommel on his blade into Hawke's face with a loud smack. Hawke staggered backwards, his vision blurred by his own blood and tears. He was in pain, but he had gotten his in the process.

Rajmael clasped his hand onto his right side as it burned with a searing pain that almost pierced his lungs. When he struck Hawke in the face, the Champion managed to slip a dagger between his ribs. A little trick he learned from Isabella. Rajmael pulled the knife out of his body and magically healed the wound. The Inquisitor and Champion squared off with each other again. Neither one of them would back down or relent while the other one was alive.

**~XoXoXo~**

Even as it unfolded right before their eyes, none of them could believe what they were seeing. If only this damned magical wall weren't in their way, they could do something. Stop them before anymore of them were killed. It was bad enough the Champion killed the Hero, and they certainly didn't want to see the Champion and the Inquisitor kill each other.

Varric looked back over to the Antivan Crow, and still couldn't believe how unperturbed the elf was.

"Andraste's tits, Shanks, how can you be so calm?" Varric asked outraged. "How can you stand there like nothing's happening when your friend was just cut down!?"

"I suppose it's too much to expect a professional assassin to have even a modicum of decency." Vivienne said disdainfully.

"Oh, I'm saving my worry and panic for later." Zevran replied blithely. "It's the Inquisitor and the Champion you all should really be worried about right now."

"What's that supposed to mean? You mean worry about them killing each other?" Ranier asked incredulously.

"Oh, no, no, no. Worry about them both getting killed." Zevran clarified. "You see, my dear friend Aedan, the man who killed the Archdemon in single combat, is not dead! All the Champion did was really _piss him off!"_

**~XoXoXo~**

The Inquisitor and the Champion were so focused on each other, they didn't realize what was happening just a few yards away from them. Aedan slowly from the ground and up to his knees, his miraculous survival astonished all the spectators. It was hard to tell if Aedan was even conscious, his eyes were rolled to the back of his head and his breathing was raspy and labored. The deep, long cut from the Champion's blade on his chest was still wide open and revealed the sliced muscles and bone from beneath Aedan's broken armor. The depth and width of the wound should have killed Aedan, yet somehow he was still alive.

A strange aura of dark red energy began rising from all the dead qunari on the floor, like their spirits were finally leaving their corpses and floated towards Aedan. All of them watched in complete horror as Aedan's unconsciously opened his jaw and began to devour the sickly red energy down his mouth. The fight going on between Rajmael and Hawke may as well not have been happening at all, for the of them had never seen anything like this before in their lives. It was so horrifying and repulsive, yet none of them could take their eyes off it. It was as if Aedan was devouring the very souls of the dead qunari around him.

"Sweet Maker..." Dorian gasped in sheer horror.

"He's...a freak!" Sera groaned in disgust, averting her eyes from the sight in front of them.

"Just what the fuck is this guy?!" Iron Bull asked in utter disbelief.

"He's no man. He's a creature!" Vivienne denounced in complete revilement.

"No wonder everyone's so scared of him." Varric said unable to turn away from what he was watching.

The only person who didn't seem to affected by what was happening to the Hero was his companion Zevran. The Antivan elf just stood their in concerned silence.

As Aedan continued to consume the entropic energy of the dead, his wounds began to heal, and an aura of red power began to emanate from his entire being. The Hero of Ferelden gulped down loudly on the last bit of entropic energy from the last dead qunari in the chamber, and licked his lips like it was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted. All the wounds he had sustained, even the massive cut Hawke had dealt him were completely healed.

The sickly red aura that surrounded the Hero intensified and burned into a hellish crimson around him. His eyes shot open, no longer a deep blue like a normal human being, but slinted and red like some kind of reptile's. He leapt back to his feet and tore the ruined armor off his body like it was made of paper, revealing all the tattoos painted onto his bare flesh. Every sinew and fiber of his muscle flexed angrily beneath his skin, ready to do some damage. The enraged Hero of Ferelden inhaled deeply, and unleashed a powerful earsplitting roar that shook the entire chamber with such force and rage it would have put Corypheus' tainted dragon to shame.

Rajmael and Hawke instantly ceased their fighting with each other when they both realized the Hero was still alive. His now slanted eyes were glowing red and was engulfed in some kind of infernal crimson aura that formed into draconic claws around his hands. He snarled and bared his teeth at them like a rabid animal, revealing the now sharp fangs that lined his jaws. There was a sinister look in his demonic eyes, something that wen far beyond blood-lust. It was hunger.

Sensing that he was the greater threat, both the Champion and the Inquisitor charged to attack the Hero of Ferelden at the same time. Rajmael dashed forward ahead of the Hawke to cut Aedan's head off his neck. Aedan caught Rajmael's wrist with astounding speed that stunned the Inquisitor. Aedan clenched down on Rajmael's wrist, breaking the elf's bones in his vice-like grip, before throwing him like a ragdoll thirty feet into the air and into a nearby wall. Rajmael's body landed with so much force that he punched a hole in the wall and made a crater where he landed.

**~XoXoXo~**

Realization finally struck Cassandra. She couldn't believe it took her this long to comprehend what Aedan truly way and cursed her own inability to find the answers even when it was right in front of her. Out of anyone here, she should have been the one to realize just what kind of warrior the Hero of Ferelden was. The devouring of entropic energy, his ability to inspire intimidation, how he was able to become stronger after sustaining such grievous wounds. Even the rumors of his alleged cannibalism. There could only be one answer.

"Zevran, tell me truly..." Cassandra all but demanded from the Antivan Crow. "The Hero of Ferelden, he is a Reaver, isn't he? Not someone who merely mimics their fighting style, but a true Reaver?"

"My dear Seeker, he isn't merely a true Reaver." Zevran assured, trying to hold back his anxiety from the battle he was witnessing. "Aedan Cousland is the most powerful Reaver in existence!"

"Sorry, but what the hell is any of that supposed to mean?" Varric wondered, worried what that could mean for Hawke and the Inquisitor.

"Does it explain why Mr. Roid-Rage over there is such a freak?" Sera groaned.

"The Hero of Ferelden consumed the blood of a dragon to grant him unnatural powers. To turn his pain into power, and feed off the entropic energies of death and fear." Cassandra explained.

"Killing a dragon then drinking its blood to become even more powerful? That's badass!" Iron Bull hollered in admiration.

"This is no joking matter, Iron Bull!" Cassandra admonished. "My ancestors who hunted dragons would harvest and consume their blood for power, but their were side-effects. Scales, growths, they became more and more draconic until they went completely insane. Eventually, they were all hunted down like the very dragons they hunted when they began mass killings, slaughtering whole families and villages, and other horrible things."

"That would explain a lot." Varric stated, believing they just found the reason behind Aedan volatile attitude.

"I've heard of dragon cults that would give praise to high-dragons in exchange for the power of their blood." Dorian imparted. "Many warriors from ancient Tevinter would practice this discipline to be unleashed on the Imperium's enemies like rabid dogs."

"How could the Hero of Ferelden, the man who ended the Blight, do something so abominable?" Ranier asked completely deplored by this truth.

"Clearing a tower full of abominations, chasing after two Paragons in the Deep Roads, settling a civil war, and ending a Blight by killing the Archdemon." Zevran listed off sarcastically. "You don't accomplish something like that on your own by being a flowering-sniffing dandy who solves his problems with a shiny sword and a witty remark. Aedan did what he had was needed to make sure he could fulfill his mission."

**~XoXoXo~**

Aedan glared at the Champion hatefully, remembering how deeply Hawke had cut him. The Hero charged the Champion so quickly, Hawke had no time to react. Aedan tackled Hawke like an angry elephant, lifting him up and smashing the Champion's body through several ruined columns with the force of a stampede. Aedan slammed Hawke's body up against a nearby wall and proceeded to smash his powerful fists into Hawke's body with inhuman speed and strength. Hit after hit after hit, Aedan just kept pummeling the Champion without stop and without mercy.

Hawke grunted and shouted in pain, his unique armor began cracking under the sheer force of Aedan's blows. He could feel his ribs starting to break. He couldn't break the distance between them, he had to take a drastic measure. Before he could reach into the satchel on his hip to grab his trump card, Aedan grabbed Hawke by the hair and smashed his head into the wall behind him.

Ears ringing, vision blurred, ribs breaking, and his skull cracked, this was the most damage Hawke had sustained in a long time. All of it done by the Hero's bare hands. Hawke was in so much pain he couldn't move, he was barely conscious any more.

Everyone looked on in horror and Varric nearly had a heart-attack as they watched Aedan grab Hawke's head in his hands and held him stead. Aedan opened his out so wide he actually dislodged his own jaw, revealing the sharp maw of fangs he now possessed. Varric screamed Hawke's name in terror when they realized that Aedan was going to bite the Champion's head right off his neck!

The Hero of Ferelden stumbled backwards and roared in unfathomable agony when a bolt of lightning came out of nowhere and went straight down his open maw. Aedan entire body lit up and smoked like a torch as the powerful jolt of electricity conducted through his body, causing him an untold amount of pain. The flesh of his face had turned into a web of black scorch marks that cracked painfully, revealing the muscles and skull beneath the skin.

Aedan looked up on the stairs to the shrine, smoke billowing out of his mouth, and saw the Inquisitor standing there, his sword in hand, burning with white veilfire, and he looked just as angry as the Hero. Aedan growled viciously, his mouth frothing like a rabid dog, and the lightning strike on his face started began to instantly heal.

Aedan ignored the Champion and focused all his attention and anger on the Inquisitor. Screaming like a madman, Aedan sprinted towards the Inquisitor with every intention of ripping the elf's head right off. Rajmael defied gravity once again, and practically flew down to face the Hero. Rajmael landed a flying side kick to Aedan's face, putting all his weight and force behind it, and struck the Hero with enough force to break down Skyhold's front door. Against Aedan Cousland, that kick was about as effective as a mosquito trying to hit a tree.

Aedan took a swipe at Rajmael's head with his draconic claw made out of crimson energy. Rajmael ducked beneath the powerful claw by mere hairs and stabbed his sword at the Hero's tattooed face. Aedan held his right hand in front of the elven blade to block its attack, and was ran straight through the palm all the way to the hilt. Aedan's blood painted Rajmael's sword red, the Hero's hand skewered on the elven blade like a piece of meat, but that wasn't nearly enough.

The Hero of Ferelden clenched his wounded hand around the blade that was impaling it with enough grip strength to strangle an ox. Aedan ripped Rajmael's sword out of his clutches while it was still stabbed through his hand, and punched the Inquisitor square in the chest and sent the Inquisitor flying backwards with the shape of fist planted in his torso. Aedan didn't even bother with pulling the sword out of his hand, like he was now immune to the pain it was causing him. Instead, he held the blade close to his face, extended his tongue, and licked his own blood off the edge of the blade like it was the most delicious thing he had tasted all week. Aedan's smiled in absolute ecstasy as his tongue was split right down the middle, flooding his mouth with his own blood, and leaving his tongue forked and flickering from between his smiling lips like a sadistic reptile. As his wounds bleed, the crimson aura around him became greater, and his power became even stronger.

Rajmael sprang back to his feet and healed the imprint of the Hero's fist in his chest. Aedan quickly ripped the Inquisitor's sword out of his own hand and returned it to the elven mage in force. The enasalin flew back to its master so quickly, Rajmael had to phase-shift himself and let the blade pass through himself so that he wouldn't be skewered by his own weapon. The enasalin went straight through the air and became stuck in a broken column. The Inquisitor looked on the sadistic Fereldan warrior with pure hatred in his eyes. His fists charged with mage and his Shimmering Shield burned brightly to match his anger. He resolved to kill the Hero of Ferelden the old-fashioned way: with his bare hands.

The Arcane Warrior and Reaver charged one another with all their fury. The Hero's might and rage against the Inquisitor's power and grace. Aedan clawed at Rajmael's throat and tried to spear him through the heart with his bare hands. Rajmael evaded the Aedan's vicious onslaught and responded with several powerful spin kicks to the Hero's face. Each kick was charged with magic, making it feel as if a burning hot sledgehammer just smacked across the Hero's face. Aedan slashed at Rajmael again, cutting him across the chest, and leaving several deep claw marks on his body. Rajmael wasn't even tickled by it, for he had suffered worse pains than the Hero of Ferelden's claws.

As the Hero and Inquisitor were hammering each other in their personal melee, Hawke tried staggering back to his feet, but he was still suffering from the damage the General Cousland had inflicted on him. His armor and ribs were cracked, and it felt like his skull had been fractured, and more than likely, he probably had serious internal bleeding. Hawke was starting to lose consciousness, he had to act fast.

The Champion reached into his satchel and pulled out a specially crafted vial, filled with very special contents. The potion was blue that sparkled like starlight. It was the Elixer of Lifeward. It was a homemade recipe known only to the Champion, passed down and imparted to him by his father, Malcolm Hawke. It was meant to be a powerful tool to be used when he needed that extra edge. And against men like the Inquisitor and the Hero, he needed every edge he could get.

Hawke ripped the seal off the vial and consumed every drop of its contents. The effects instantly began coursing through his veins. The Lifeward Elixer instantly revitalized his body and healed his wounds. He felt a newfound power surging throughout his body. Hawke grasped his sword and stood back up as if he had never been injured in the first place, and his eyes turned towards the other two combatants striking each other back and forth without mercy. It was time to get back in the fight.

Hawke gripped the Celebrant in both his hands and activated the grandmaster fire rune that enchanted the blade. He slammed his greatsword against the ground with an earthshaking strike that shattered the ground towards the Inquisitor and Hero. A massive fissure cracked in the ground beneath both combatant and a wall of flame erupted from it, consuming both the Inquisitor and the Hero.

Rajmael flipped backwards through the air and landed right next to where his sword was resting. Aedan, on the other hand, didn't bother moving and just stood over the erupting fissure while he cooked like a premium cut steak. As his flesh burned, the demonic aura surrounding Aedan became greater and even more sinister. As a Reaver, the more he was harmed, the more powerful he became.

"ENASALIN!" Rajmael cried out in pure rage. He pulled his sword out of the wall, and attacked the two human warriors.

All three heroes engaged in a three sided melee that would make lesser soil themselves just watching it. Aedan evaded Champion's sword, wrapped his arms around Hawke's body, and slammed him to the ground with a powerful suplex. Aedan sprang back up only to be met by the Inquisitor's attack. Rajmael at the Hero's face, but Aedan's quickly caught the blade in his hand again. However, Rajmael moved so fast that Aedan didn't notice the lightning rune the Inquisitor planted on his chest. The lightning rune exploded on Aedan's body and sent him whirling through the air. Aedan landed on the ground in a puddle of his own blood with his entrails hanging out of his body.

Hawke brought the Celebrant down on the Inquisitor, the red hot flames of his blade mixing with the white veilfire of the Inquisitor's. The two swordsmen exchanged blows at one another, sparks flying off their blades as they brought all their skill to bear against each other.

Rajmael's magic and offensive spells were useless against Hawke's magic-absorbing armor, forcing him to rely solely on his own skill with a sword. Hawke was aware of the enchantment on the Inquisitor's blade that allowed it to bypass armor like it was even there, but thankfully he had the advantage of reach thanks to the Celebrant. However, he had never before encountered a style like Rajmael's before; it was unlike anything he had ever seen. It possessed the grace and precision of Antivan fencing mixed with the power and durability of the longsword.

While most would think the Inquisitor and Champion's skills in swordsmanship were on par with one another, there was a crucial difference. While Rajmael was a magnificent swordsman, he's had to split his focus and training by mastering magic. Whereas Hawke had been mastering and adapting his sword style his whole life without being forced to master any other disciplines. With this pivotal difference in training, Hawke accomplished what most believe impossible: he disarmed an Arcane Warrior and knocked his sword out of his hands, leaving him wide open. Hawke brought the Celebrant down on the Inquisitor with all his might, with every intention to split Rajmael from crown to crotch with his flaming sword.

Hawke's flame-enchanted sword stopped in mid-swing mere hairs above the Inquisitor's head. Rajmael's hands were clasped firmly around the fiery blade, and stopped the attack before it could hit him. The flames on the Celebrant practically licked Rajmael's face, his hands were being deeply cut and horribly burned at the same time from holding the Champion's weapon, and Hawke began pressing his weight behind his sword, cutting even deeper into the Inquisitor's hands.

Instead of letting go, Rajmael gripped Hawke's sword even harder, ignoring the terrible pain it was causing him. Rather then using his magic to cast another offensive spell, Rajmael began charging his magic through his hands and into the Champion's weapon. Hawke yelled out in pain and dropped his own sword, it's handle now burning so hot that he couldn't hold on to it. The Inquisitor had used his magic to increase the power of Hawke's flame-enchantment until it became too hot for the Champion to even hold on to it. Rajmael torqued his hip, and kicked Hawke in the side of the face so hard, the Champion was flipped ass over kettle on to his back.

Before either of them could do anything else, an animalistic roar filled the air, and Aedan came flying out of nowhere and pounded Rajmael square in the chest with a flying dropkick before he planted all two-hundred and twenty pounds of him right on top of Hawke with his elbow. Aedan sprang back up to his feet, the massive hole in his chest and abdomen from Rajmael's lightning rune wasn't completely healed and was still bleeding very badly, but the demonic aura surrounding him was even more powerful than before. Aedan clenched his fists and licked his lips. He was going to tear these two apart with his bare hands, and his sharp teeth.

**~XoXoXo~**

"We have to stop this, now!" Zevran said frantically.

"Well, it's not like we think we should just keep standing here and watching these men kill each other." Ranier responded satirically.

"No, you do not understand. Aedan's Reaver powers become greater when he is injured, but when he is this close to death, his power is greater than that of any high dragon in Thedas. If he is about to die, he can very well take the Inquisitor or the Champion with him." Zevran explained worriedly. "He's burning through the entropic energy he fed on to heal himself, but soon he won't be able to heal his wounds unless he kills someone."

"Or Hawke or the Inquisitor might kill him and the other guy." Varric suggested sarcastically.

"Or they all may end up dead!" Cassandra shouted hysterically. "Which will leave us in more dire straights than you could possibly imagine. Dorian, have you and Vivienne discovered anything about that wretched device?"

Dorian and Vivienne were at the panel that qunari soldier had activated to start this entire morbid even to begin with. The two of them tried to decipher the symbols on the gemstone panels, but couldn't determine any of them.

"We're working as best we can, Darling." Vivienne assured, trying to remain calm. "But I dare not touch any of these panels without knowing what they might do. It could make things worse."

"You two are the big, fancy magic experts. Make it work!" Sera hollered.

"Better do something fast." Iron Bull warned. "Those guys are getting even closer to killing each other."

"We have to help. Have to do something!" Cole pleaded, wishing that saying it would make it happen. "It's this place, it's making them hurt each other."

Dorian paused and thought for a moment, trying not to think about the Inquisitor possibly being killed by the Champion or eaten by the Hero. This entire library was a place of elven magic. Rajmael's magic reacted differently to this place, and this place reacted differently to elves. Earlier, they all learned that the Crossroads appeared differently to elven eyes. Maybe this was a problem only an elf could solve.

"Zevran, come here please." Dorian bade urgently. "We need you to solve this."

"Me?! Have you taken a leave of your senses? I'm an assassin, not a mage!" Zevran retorted incredulously.

"Listen, this place, this entire place of existence, it reacts differently to elves." Dorian explained. "It reveals its true nature to the people who built it. Only you can find the off-switch to this damned thing."

The Antivan elf couldn't believe the pressure that was being pressed on him. He looked at all the runes on the panel, and they may as well have been chicken scratches to him. "I...I barely know a few words in ancient elven, let alone know how to read it!"

"Just try to focus." Dorian urged. "This place has a will of its own. It aids those who seek knowledge, just as it helped the Inquisitor. You're an elf, make that mean something know."

Zevran looked at the ancient panel, his eyes darting all over the ancient runes and symbols, unsure which one was the right one. Which one would end this, and which one might kill them?

"Zevran, please!" Cassandra begged as she watched her lover fighting on the other side of the force field.

Zevran closed his eyes and took a deep breath, hoping beyond all hope that he could save his friends. "Maker...Mother...If you're truly out there, guide my hand now and help me save these great men."

Zevran opened his eyes and a with a silent prayer on his lips, he let fate guide his hand and pressed a brilliant white gemstone with a strange rune carved in its surface.

A strange ringing sound began to fill the air that all of them could feel on the back of their minds. The artificial tree burning with red magic at the top of the shrine began to die down. The magic crackling in the branches went from blood red to snow white, and that gentle ringing sound grew louder, more overpowering. The white magic from the tree began to grow and expand outwards, becoming larger and brighter with every passing second. The gentle white magic swept through the entire summit of the tower like a gentle snowstorm. The last thing all of them saw and heard was themselves being consumed in a wave of white energy, and that strangely beautiful music carrying throughout the air.

What just happened? What did this magic do? What happened to the Inquisitor, Champion and Hero? Were they all dead?

**~Language Codex~**

**Vir Dirthara:** Elven. Translates as _"Path of Learning"._

**Vir Banal'ras:** Elven. Translates as "Way of Shadows".

**Dirth'ena Enasalin:** Elven term for Arcane Warrior. Translates as _"Knowledge That Leads to Victory"._

**Aneth'ara:** Elven greeting. Translates as _"My safe place"._

**Eluvian:** Elven. Literally translates as _"Seeing Glass"._

**Vallaslin:** Elven form of tattooing. Translates as _"Blood Writing"._

**Ma Nuvenin, elgar:** Elven words of thanks. Translates as _"My thanks, Spirit."_

**Delltash**: Elven. Meaning unknown, possibly used as a curse.

**Atish'all Vir Dirthara, Dirth'ena Enasalin: **Elven greeting. Translates as _"Welcome to the Vir Dirthara, Arcane Warrior"._

**Asit Tal-eb:** Qunlat mantra. Translates as _"It must be"._

**~Author's Note~**

**Alright, so there it is!**

**I promised you some Original Content never seen in Dragon Age Fanfiction, and here it is: A threeway battle between all the Dragon Age Heroes!**

**This was without a doubt the most complicated fight scene I've ever had to write.**

**Even more complicated than the battle with Haakon Wintersbreath.**

**My Original Content Doesn't end here, as evidenced by my latest Cliffhanger. There will be even more in the next few chapters.**

**Please review and give me your thoughts. I am very excited by these upcoming chapters and would like to know what you all think.**

**Thanks!**


	47. The Path of Memory: Part I

**~The Path of Memory: Part I~**

Tallis and Isskari returned to Eva's cell where the young Dalish girl was slumped up against the wall with her head on her knees. Tallis was carrying a tray of food, some tea, soup and bread, in the hopes it would keep Eva calm, thought she doubted it. If Tallis were in Eva's position, she certainly wouldn't be cooperative. Eva looked up at the two elven qunari with more hatred and anger than Tallis thought a twelve-year old was capable of having. It was almost frightening.

"And just what do you two seth'lin flat-ears want?" Eva hissed angrily.

There was so much anger in that little girl's eyes that Tallis couldn't even meet her gaze. "I, uh, thought you might be hungry, so we brought you some food."

At the sight of the tray and the smell of the hot soup, Eva's stomach growled loudly against her will. There was no hiding that she was in fact very hungry.

"Did you drug this too, or do you just save it for when you want to take someone against their will?" Eva demanded.

"I promise, there's nothing in this meal except what the cookbook allows." Tallis assured, trying to smile in the hopes of making Eva believe her.

"Leave the tray and get out. The only company I eat with is family and friends, not scum like you." Eva demanded.

"If you want us to leave, fine, but we're taking the food with us." Isskari said callously. "Maybe later you'll be more pleasant company, but there's no guarantee we'll bring food next time."

Eva grumbled and cursed in elven under her breath and grudgingly conceded. Tallis put the tray in front of her and Eva tasted the soup and bread, making sure it was safe. When she tasted no illicit ingredients, she began eating as quickly as she could to make these two leave.

"While we're here, we want ask you some questions, child." Isskari stated.

Eva stopped eating before she could take another bite, despite how hungry she was, and slid the tray back to them. "Well, that figures. Just when I was beginning to think you people had a fiber of decency in you, you prove me wrong, thanks for that. So you bring me food in exchange for information. That's pretty low, don't you think?"

"It's better than torturing you, which is what most people do, especially in the South." Tallis countered calmly.

"Oh, please, don't even try to act like you've got the moral high ground, especially after capturing and collaring me like a prize-winning animal!" Eva spat back at them, still remembering the terrible pain the collar on her neck caused when she tried to use magic.

"Quid pro quo, child." Isskari said sternly. "We'll give you something you need in exchange for something _we_ need, and we have questions that need to be answered."

"Oh-ho, the big bad, scary qunari need something from a bound and chained little girl." Eva laughed mockingly. "What questions could you, and all your meticulous certainty in the Qun have, that I could answer?"

"We want to know more about the Inquisitor." Isskari stated monotonely. "What do you know about the mark on his hand? How is he able to use it to mend the Veil? What secrets did he discover in the Temple of Mythal?"

Eva's anger began to stir inside her and her magic with it, causing the collar to sting her, but she was too mad to care. "You twisted, arrogant, soulless son of a...! How dare you!? You think I would betray him to the likes of you?!"

"You mean like how he betrayed you by killing your real father then keeping it a secret from you? Weren't you the one who declared that you hated him?" Isskari reminded.

Remembering that moment was as bitter as salt water to Eva, but she wasn't going to be used like this. "Whatever happened between me and Rajmael is none of your damned business! I owe you no explanations, and unlike you, I'm not going to sell out any of my own people just to make your job easier! So you can take your question, and that food, and shove it up your Qun!"

Tallis had to bit her lip to keep herself from laughing at Eva's innuendo. Despite everything, Tallis couldn't help but admire Eva's attitude and loyalty. Isskari, on the other hand, was less than pleased with the disrespectful Dalish mage child.

"So be it. You're obviously not hungry enough to be polite company." Isskari said, trying to remain composed, while he picked up the tray of food and turned to leave. "Perhaps later, you'll feel a bit more gracious, but as I said, there's no guarantee we'll be bringing food next time."

Isskari left the room and slammed the door behind him, once again leaving Tallis alone with Eva. Tallis checked through the cell door to make sure they were alone while Eva continued to glare at her. As soon as she confirmed that no one was watching them, Tallis reached into her pouch and handed out several apples she had hidden to Eva.

"What are you doing now?" Eva asked, looking at the apple suspiciously.

"Not letting you go hungry alone in a cell?" Tallis answered sheepishly.

"Yeah, because you're just so altruistic and caring, right?" Eva said sarcastically, still wary of Tallis motives. "What do _you_ want in exchange for feeding me?"

"Not seeing you crying alone on the floor, hungry and afraid would be a nice start." Tallis answered sincerely with true sorrow on her face. She didn't know if this would get her in trouble, but right now, she didn't care. She wasn't going to treat a child this way.

Eva hesitated for a moment, then took the apples and gladly started eating them. She was still monumentally angry at Tallis for putting her through this in the first place, but at least she had enough decency to not let her go hungry.

Tallis watched as Eva ate in silence. What was she doing? She was violating the Viddasala's orders, but she couldn't just leave Eva like this. The Qun was supposed to look after children like her, offer them a place. Not teach them fear and anger. This went against everything she believed the Qun to be, as well as her own conscience. Yet at the same time, this act of kindness was against the demand of the Qun. What was she to do?

**Location Unknown...**

Cassandra's eyes fluttered open with what she could only describe as what must have been the worst hangover in her life splitting her head. Her head hurt so much that it was incredibly hard to think straight. Her vision was blurry and she was numb all over, barely able to see or feel anything. Cassandra worked past her splitting headache to try and piece together what just happened to all of them.

Cassandra remembered how her heart almost exploded inside her chest when she saw Rajmael, Hawke and Aedan all fighting each other with everything they had because of some ancient elven magic that turned them against each other. Seeing such great men actually trying to viciously murder each other was almost too much to bare, especially when they all came so close to killing themselves. Then that Antivan elf, Zevran, in a last second desperate attempt to deactivate the spell that mesmerized their friends into trying to kill each other, pressed a random key on the panel that activated the spell in the first place. Whatever he pressed, that strange tree at the top of the shrine erupted with a strange white magic that engulfed all of them. Then Cassandra was here, practically blind and her head feeling like it got pounded with a hammer.

Cassandra focused for a while, and within moments the painful, cloudy sensations she was experiencing began to fade away. Wherever she was, it was bitterly cold and raining, with a strange musk in the air. Her eyes got their sight back, and she could see that while it was daytime, the sky was darkened by black rainclouds that flooded down to the ground, making it muddy and slippery.

Cassandra looked around and saw the rest of her companions. Like her, it looked like they were shaking off the aftereffects of whatever magic had brought them here. What deeply worried Cassandra was the fact that none of the heroes were to be seen. Rajmael, Hawke, Aedan, they were simply not here.

"Oh. Aw, friggin' shit! I got the hangover, but I don't remember the party..." Sera whined trying to get up, only to fall back down.

Iron Bull groaned as he held his own horns as if to be sure they were actually there. "Can't feel my horns...Are they still there?"

Varric staggered to his feet holding his head like it was about to roll of his shoulders. "Oh, sweet Maker. Could please just put me out of my misery right now? Please?"

"That was...not a wonderful experience." Cole whimpered, taking his hat off and rubbing his aching temples.

Ranier didn't even bother getting up. He just stayed there on knees in the mud, hoping not to get vomit all over his beard. "Feels like someone took a mace to my head then poured hot lead in my eyes."

"Even the poison assassins use in the Game are more humane than this." Vivienne complained.

"Does anyone have any idea where in the Maker's name we are?" Dorian asked dizzily.

Zevran shook off the sickly effects he was feeling and looked at their surroundings. "Hm. The bitter cold, the unceasing rain, and that distinct aroma and taste of a wet dog's ass lingering in the air. I'd say we're probably in Ferelden. In fact, I wouldn't doubt it."

"You can actually tell where we are just by sniffing the air, Shanks?" Varric asked with a quirked eyebrow.

"Well, you tend to remember the country you fought a Blight in, Master Varric." Zevran responded. "Though, I must admit, this place looks a sight much better than the rest of Ferelden did during that time."

Ranier looked up and tried to get a feel for where they were. "Looks like somewhere in the Northern Teynir, judging from the terrain. Not the bannorn proper."

"I highly doubt any part of Ferelden is different from the rest of it, darling." Vivienne said with her trademark haughty tone.

"You mean that weird magic button Zevran pressed actually transported us from that library and back to Ferelden?" Iron Bull asked in total disbelief.

"This is a place that is familiar. Not to us, but to the one who has been here before." Cole spoke out cryptically. As usual, no one really understood what he really meant.

"Hm. I don't think the mirror actually transported us to Ferelden, like the eluvians would." Dorian said thoughtfully. "Remember what the Inquisitor said? That the books in the Library were actually memories? Maybe that's where that strange magic sent us. Maybe we're inside a memory, almost like the Fade. We're still in a realm between realms."

"If this is what you people do when you go to the Fade, then you're all bonkers!" Sera commented.

"Ugh. I dread to wonder whose memory this could possibly belong to." Vivienne said distastefully holding her handkerchief to her face in an attempt to keep the odious smell of the air out of her nose.

"Has anyone seen the Inquisitor, Hero or Champion?" Cassandra asked urgently.

"I don't think they came here with us. Whatever Zevran activated, it must have done something different to them because they were the ones under the security enchantment." Dorian reasoned.

"Then how _do_ we find them?" Cassandra all but demanded.

"According to what Rajmael told us, we'll just have to witness the events of whosever memory this is in order to leave." Dorian deduced as he shivered in the rain. "I suspect once we've done this, the magic here will let us go."

"I doubt it will be as simple as that, Dorian, dear." Vivienne rebutted. "For us all to have been transported here, this must be an extremely powerful spell."

"Well, wherever we are, Fade, memory, I don't care, maybe we should find someplace to get out of this fucking rain?" Iron Bull suggested, his teeth chattering loudly. "Maybe this memory's got a tavern with some beer and serving girls."

A loud sound broke across the wind that outstripped the thunder. It sounded like Chantry bells ringing loudly in the distance. Cassandra looked behind her and saw a massive castle not too far from where they were standing. Torches were lit outside, and it looked like people were walking towards it.

"Looks like there's shelter over there. Maybe we can find answers, or even our comrades." Cassandra beckoned. She whispered a prayer to herself, hoping to somehow find the man she loved, safe and unharmed. This place had already taken its toll on Rajmael, and she dreaded to think what else this place could do to him.

**~XoXoXo~**

All of them made their way to the castle in the distance. As they approached they realized just how powerful this architecture was. It was a massive fortress seated on a high hill with four drum towers surrounding it and connected by a curtain wall of solid rock with a large moat in front of it. The castle itself was made from white stones that were still vibrant even in this dismal rain. The castle itself was large enough to house a whole army, or even several villages. And in the typical Fereldan fashion, there were statues of dogs posing on the walls and roofs, instead of gargoyles or religious figures.

As they got closer, they noticed many people from a nearby village further down the hill were all making their way in droves to the castle. They looked like they were trying to make good time getting there, but were in no true rush. Like there was some kind of event going on at the castle.

"A lot of people making their way to the castle. What do you think's drawing them there?" Varric said curiously.

"With the way those Chantry bells are ringing, and the mass of people moving, I'd say it was Sunday. They're all making their way to the castle's Chantry for mass." Cassandra deduced logically. "If it's a Maker-fearing place, I'd say we're not in too much danger."

"Man! Would you look at this place, kadan!" Iron Bull commented to Dorian. "High, sturdy walls on a hill, towers in all for directions that can see for miles, and the moat is just a big, fat bonus. If you've got the men to occupy it, it'd be damned hard for an enemy to take this place."

"As far as Fereldan architecture goes, yes, I must agree, this place is rather impressive." Dorian concurred with his lover.

"It's not the royal palace of Denerim, I can tell you that much." Vivienne informed. "I must admit, I've never seen this place, but whoever owns it must certainly be impressive."

"A palace that not even you've ever seen, Madame de Fer? Shocking." Ranier said sarcastically.

"Maybe we could ask one of these gentlemen just where we are?" Zevran suggested, pointing to the men standing a post just outside the castle walls. The soldier wore standard issued gear and were grim in appearance, but whether that was their normal demeanor or a natural reaction to the rain was uncertain. Zevran approached them in an attempt to get some answers. "Excuse me, my fine Fereldan gentlemen. Could you kindly tell us just where we are?"

The soldiers said nothing. Didn't even look at the elf.

"Excuse me? Hello! Are you deaf, blind or both?!" Zevran yelled trying to get their attention.

"They can't hear or see you, Zevran. They're not even here, really." Cole spoke out, speaking normally for a change. "They are memories, like the rest of this place. Acting out their role, like players on a stage."

"What? Does that mean there's nothing to nab out of their breeches? Piss!" Sera scoffed in disappointment.

"Well, maybe we should just follow the rest of these...memory people, and find out where they're going." Varric proposed. "Maybe we'll find the answers we're looking for inside."

**~XoXoXo~**

Following Varric's advice, everyone followed the mass of people going inside the castle and followed them to the castle's Chantry. The Chantry itself was rather impressive. Over three times larger than the Chantry at Haven was. Stained glass windows depicting martyrs of the faith and scenes from the Chant of Light, the smell of holy incense burning in the air. The only real difference that Cassandra could see from all the other Chantries she had been in was that at the great shrine in the back of the Chantry where the sermons were held, the statue of Andraste was unlike the ones she had seen throughout the rest of Thedas. Andraste was depicted as a warrior woman wearing armor and carrying a sword and shield while wreathed in a halo, rather than a prophetess wearing robes and a crown while holding a bowl or scroll. It was the Fereldan rendition of the Lady Redeemer.

Cassandra knelt before a shrine of candles and whispered a small prayer in reverence and respect for this place of worship, before joining her comrades towards the front of the gathering. At the very front of the mass was an important looking family, all nobles judging from their expensive clothing. A nobleman, his wife, and their juvenile son. They were a handsome looking family, all smiling and seemed content with each others company. Yet there was something strangely familiar about them.

Everyone in the Chantry rose as the Chantry Mother entered the hall and began the service. She was rather young to be a Chantry Mother, and was quite lovely to look at. It was almost a shame that she had taken vows of chastity. Her voice was melodious and strong, it carried throughout the large Chantry and everyone inside could hear her voice.

"On this day, let us remember the words of our Lady Redeemer, and how she found the Maker in the cold dark days of Ferelden's history." The Chantry Mother spoke in a soft, caring voice. "How she reached out to the Maker with a voice so sweet and full of longing, that she convinced our holy creator to give us a second chance at redemption by his side. On this day, let us hear and remember the words of Blessed Andraste from the sweet voice of our newly anointed choirboy."

A young boy in ceremonial robes tentatively made his way to sermon's podium. He was handsome looking boy with dark hair and blue eyes, and his adorability peaked with that bashful look on his blushing face. Apparently, he had never been before such a large crowd before. The noblewoman's face beamed with joy and pride to see the young boy make his way there, and her husband and son shared her feelings. Perhaps this was her second child.

The boy swallowed hard, trying to bury his fear of public speaking. He opened his eyes and began to sing with a voice so sweet it would have made Leliana and Meridia jealous. His young voice carried across the vast Chantry, sinking into the ears and hearts of all those present. Even Cassandra and the rest of her companions had forgotten their troubles just listening to him, if even for a moment.

_Eyes sorrow-blinded, in darkness unbroken_  
_There 'pon the mountain, a voice answered my call._

_"Heart that is broken, beats still unceasing,_  
_An ocean of sorrow does nobody drown._  
_You have forgotten, spear-maid of Alamarr._  
_Within My creation, none are alone."_

_Lo! My eyes open'd, shining before me_  
_Greater than mountains, towering mighty,_  
_Hand all outstretch'd, stars glist'ning as jewels_  
_From rings 'pon His fingers and crown 'pon His brow._

_Sword-shattering fear filled me overflowing._  
_Grandeur of godhood no gaze should defile._  
_Trembling, I called out: "Forgive me, Most High,_  
_I should sing Your Name to the heights of heaven,_  
_But I know it not, and must be silent."_

_The Wellspring of All said, "None now remember._  
_Long have they turned to idols and tales_  
_Away from My Light, in darkness unbroken_  
_The last of My children, shrouded in night."_

_World fell away then, misty in mem'ry,_  
_'Cross Veil and into the valley of dreams_  
_A vision of all worlds, waking and slumb'ring,_  
_Spirit and mortal to me appeared._  
_"Look to My work," said the Voice of Creation._  
_"See what My children in arrogance wrought."_

_There I saw the Black City, towers all stain'd,_  
_Gates once bright golden forever shut._  
_Heav'n filled with silence, then did I know all_  
_And cross'd my heart with unbearable shame._

_Then did I see the world spread before me,_  
_ Sky-reaching mountains arrayed as a crown,_  
_ Kingdoms like jewels, glistering gemstones_  
_ Strung 'cross the earth as a necklace of pearl._  
_ "All this is yours," spake the World-Maker._  
_ "Join Me in heaven and sorrow no more."_

_ "World-making Glory," I cried out in sorrow,_  
_ "How shall your children apology make?_  
_ We have forgotten, in ignorance stumbling,_  
_ Only a Light in this darken'd time breaks._  
_ Call to Your children, teach us Your greatness._  
_ What has been forgotten has not yet been lost."_

_ Long was his silence, 'fore it was broken._  
_ "For you, song-weaver, once more I will try._  
_ To My children venture, carrying wisdom,_  
_ If they but listen, I shall return." _

Never in all her life in service to the Chantry, even in the halls of the Grand Cathedral of Val Royreaux, had Cassandra ever heard anyone sing that verse so beautifully. How could a boy so young have such a masterful gift? It was so uplifting, it made some of them almost want to weep.

"Sweet Andraste, that boy has the voice of an angel." Cassandra sighed in admiration. "I didn't know there were people who could sing the Chant so beautifully."

"I've met professional opera singers who didn't possess half as much talent as that boy." Vivienne added with genuine sincerity.

"If there was ever a voice that would make me want to listen to the Chant more often, that was it." Zevran admitted honestly.

"I don't know shit about the Chant of Light, but that was fuckin' beautiful." Iron Bull commented on the verge of shedding a moved tear.

Sera actually gave a small round of applause for the young boy. "That's great, yeah? How many kids out there can sing like that?"

"With a talent like that, that child's probably rich and famous by now." Ranier added.

"Man, if Sebastian were here, he'd probably throw himself at that kid's feet and praise him as a gift from the Maker." Varric commented.

"People enjoyed hearing him sing. It lifted their spirits and made them forget their trouble. Like Maryden's songs do." Cole said contentedly.

"This must be the memory of a very talented young man." Dorian said just as impressed as everyone else.

Everyone watched as the sermon went on and reached it's end. Cassandra would take part in the prayers that were spoken, despite being a mere memory, she still showed proper reverence to these ceremonies. In time, sermon ended and everyone made their way back to their homes. The Chantry Mother and the young boy with the lovely voice walked up to the noble family, who were all proud of the lad's performance.

"That was brilliant, little brother. I knew you could remember all those verses, just like I said you could." The older boy said admiringly.

"You were remarkable, son. Maker knows when I was your age, I never would have had the courage to sing before so many people without soiling myself." The nobleman congratulated with great delight in his son.

The noblewoman swooped her second child in her arms and kissed his cheek, her face beaming with pride. "You were wonderful! I knew you could do it. I am so proud of you, my darling Aedan."

"Your son has a magnificent gift for singing the Chant, Lord and Lady Cousland." The Chantry Mother praised. "Surely, it must be a gift from the Maker Himself."

"Your praise is humbling, Mother Mallol." The Teyrna said graciously. "Aedan, what do you say to her?"

Aedan looked up at the Chantry Mother and gave her a smile that was neither sadistic nor menacing, but one that was genuinely sincere and happy. "Maker's blessing to you, Mother Mallol."

"And to you, Aedan."

At that very moment, everyone's jaws dropped from their mouths and landed somewhere in the Deep Roads, and were probably on the verge of having a stroke from sheer shock. The little boy who just sang _Andraste 1:1-1:14 _more beautifully than any of them had ever heard, was Aedan Cousland, the most ardent and foul-mouthed atheist in all of Thedas.

"No, that...this cannot be. _That_ is Aedan Cousland!?" Cassandra said in utter disbelief. "The man who admonishes, insults, and degrades the Chantry every chance he gets was once anointed in the Chantry? All this time I thought he was raised without religion in his life."

"Aedan fuckin' Cousland, the most vicious and bloodthirsty bastard in all of Southern Thedas was damned a choirboy? I don't believe it!" Varric shouted in complete shock.

"Ugh! Is it wrong that I feel dirty for clappin' for him now?" Sera shuddered.

"No way. There's no fucking way that half-pint little runt can be the same walking doomsday we saw kicking ass not even an hour ago." Iron Bull denied skeptically. "This must be before he started adding people to his diet."

"I don't believe it either, but hey, we all had to start somewhere." Ranier reminded. "Even you weren't born a towering block of muscle with a talent for fighting."

"Indeed." Zevran agreed. "I must admit, I didn't recognize Aedan without all the tattoos and two-hundred pounds of anger issues. Wonder how he got from this to what we know now."

"A very good question." Vivienne concurred. "It's apparent that he had a religious upbringing, yet he holds such disdain for all religion. Not only that, but he came from a very powerful and important family, yet he acts like a common thug. Perhaps his parents failed in their duties to raise him correctly."

Zevran turned to the Imperial Enchanter, his face as grim and stern as a tombstone. "Madame de Fer, you had better be thankful that the _actual_ Aedan Cousland isn't here right now, otherwise he'd stomp your pretty head into a pretty stain for ever speaking of his parents so disrespectfully, I jest you not."

"I am merely stating what the reasons behind the Hero's attitude might have been." Vivienne defended haughtily. "A man like him doesn't become the way he is with all his anger and alleged cannibalism and not have something wrong with his life."

"Why does everyone assume that the Hero is a cannibal?" Ranier asked skeptically. "Aedan himself has never full confessed to such committing such an abomination, and all we have is hearsay. Surely, that is all just rumor based off the fact that he is a Reaver, right, Zevran?"

The Antivan Crow quickly turned his gaze away from the wayward Magister, and shrugged dismissively, evading the question altogether.

"Believe me, Ranier, some questions are best left unanswered." Dorian shuddered.

"This is how it began." Cole said insightfully, staring intently at the young Aedan. "When he began to make himself into the man he would become. "

**Two Years Later...**

The memory shifted back to the Chantry where the Cousland family had gathered once again for Sunday mass. Time had clearly moved forward. Fergus was on the brink of adulthood, still seated with his parents in the Chantry. Aedan looked like he just entered adolescence, and had an obvious growth spurt since the last memory they saw him in, having grown over a two-and-half feet. The young Aedan was dressed in his choir robes and was about to go sing another hymn. It was strange to see Aedan's face without his signature tattoos, even at this age.

"What's wrong with Aedan? He looks distressed." Cassandra observed, noticing how distracted he appeared and the the severe look of anxiety on his face.

"In all the years I have known Aedan, he never once looked that nervous, even during the battle of Denerim with an Archdemon flying overhead." Zevran noted keenly.

"Maybe he finally developed a fear of public speaking?" Varric suggested sarcastically.

Mother Mallol turned to Aedan and invited him to the podium to perform the canticle. "Aedan? Won't you please give the Canticle of Theondrias now?"

Aedan looked up and the Chantry Mother then turned towards his family, who all gave him urging looks. They were all eager to hear Aedan sing with that wonderful voice of his. Aedan apprehensively took his place at the podium, and looked even more nervous than the first time they saw him here, except this time he didn't seem bashful or shy, he looked like he was ready to just tuck tail and run. And that's exactly what he did.

Aedan groaned in frustration and looked to his family. "Mother, Father, I'm sorry, but I can't do this anymore."

Aedan stormed out of the Chantry as fast as he could, tearing the Chantry robe off himself as he went, leaving his family and everyone in attendance in a state of shock. All of them, Cassandra and her companions included, went after Aedan to find out what just what was wrong with him.

They found him in his room sitting at his desk, glossing over the books he had so been obsessively reading earlier. His parents and brother walked into his room, deeply concerned what was wrong with him.

"Aedan? Darling, what's wrong?" Eleanor asked full of motherly concern.

"You gave everyone quite a shock their, Pup. Is there anything you want to talk about?" Bryce inquired, sharing his wife's concern.

Aedan just sat there, trying to avoid his parents' gaze.

"Come, now, little brother, don't be like that." Fergus urged his sibling gently. "You got Mother and Father both here and they're concerned about you. I'm here, too. You know secrets with family. Whatever's wrong, I'm sure we can work it out. Is it girl trouble? Cause I can give you some tips if you like."

Aedan sat there quietly staring down at the book in front of him. He took a deep breath like he was trying to gather his courage, but still couldn't face his family. "I...I couldn't do it. I'm sorry, but I...I just can't do this anymore."

"Do what, Aedan? Sing?" Bryce asked. "Has reaching adolescence changed your voice, because that's a pretty common occurrence for young boys."

"No, Father, I couldn't do this!" Aedan stressed, holding his Chantry robe and throwing it away from him. "Wearing this robe, saying words and singing songs that mean nothing to me. Praising a being that I don't believe in. I can't take living this damned lie anymore!"

"Aedan, what are you saying?" Eleanor asked deeply unsettled.

"Mother, Father, I make no apologies for this: I do not believe in the Maker." Aedan finally confessed summoning all his courage. "If nothing else, I spit on the Maker!"

To say that every member of Aedan's family was stunned by his words would have been a woeful The shock on his family's face could have shattered every mirror in Val Royeaux. Aedan's mother looked particularly upset by her son's declaration.

"Aedan, how can you say such a thing?" Eleanor asked terribly distraught. "How can you deny the Maker? His love is eternal and grants it to all his children."

"Says who?" Aedan questioned challengingly. "I've read every book on history in this castle's library, looked into every religious text the Chantry does and does not allow, and I've found no evidence that supports that belief. All these ancient cultures that predate Andrastianism, and there is no mention of a single great creator who formed the world. If the Maker is truly the timeless creator of all existence, why didn't he ever show Himself to the elves, the dwarves, or even the Imperium?"

"Aedan, you're being unreasonable. The elves, dwarves and Imperium all worshipped false gods and idols, they were blinded to the Maker." Bryce said trying to council his son.

"A very convenient excuse that the Chantry uses all too often to make up for what they can't explain." The young Aedan rebutted, refusing to back down from his argument, even before his parents. "The only shred of proof that exists is the word of Andraste, a barbarian woman from a dark era who failed to bring down the empire she fought against. For all we know, Andraste was an insane and the Maker was just a voice in her head!"

"Aedan, that is enough! I will not hear any more of this blasphemy, not in my home." Eleanor scolded harshly.

"Eleanor, I think the boy deserves a chance to explain himself." Bryce said gently as he placed his hand on his wife's shoulder, gesturing her to calm down. "Just what is it that has you so angry, Aedan? And what does the Maker have to do with it?"

Aedan strode over to his window and looked down on the people who were now leaving now that mass was over. "I go to the Chantry and hear all those people down there talk and sing about how wonderful the Maker is. How his love is unending, and that by bringing the Chant of Light to all corners of the world will call the Maker back, then I read all these history books, and all I see is an unending list of hypocrisy that makes me sick to my stomach."

"Hypocrisy? What are you talking about?" Fergus asked.

"Kordillius Drakon I of Orlais founded the Chantry after putting every other religious sect and denomination to the sword, even the ones that worshipped the Maker but didn't follow the Chantry's dogma. Then the Chantry declares an Exalted March on the Dales and forced the elves to either give up their identity and live in poverty, or live like vagrants with no home. Mages live like prisoners, condemned and vilified by the Chantry that imprisons them. If mages don't pass their Harrowing, they're killed. If any mage escapes the Circle, or refuses to live in one, they are killed. And if mages end up having children of their own, the Chantry takes them away, never letting the parents see their children again. It's disgusting!" Aedan looked to his father with an intense look in his eyes. "You're the one who taught me that freedom is the right of all people. The all people, men, elves, and dwarves, have the right to choose their destiny, yet the Chantry does everything it can to strip the rights and beliefs away from other in place of their own. How can I support a religion that does something so terrible."

Bryce and Eleanor remained quiet, taking a moment to consider their son's words and logic. Given everything Bryce had taught both his sons, and considering the history of the Chantry, which was not without faults, it was difficult to deny that Aedan had just cause to be less than pleased with the center of Andrastian faith.

"You make a compelling argument, Aedan, I do not deny that. I would be a fool and a liar to say that your reasons are unjustified." Bryce conceded. "However, that explains every reason you have to hate the Chantry. What possible reason could you have for denying the Maker? I cannot imagine something so damning from anyone, let alone my own son. Please, help us understand why."

Aedan turned his gaze away from his parent, ashamed at the grief he was causing them, so he gave them his reasons. "Because...because I look at you and Mother, and as far as I'm concerned, you're both _greater_ than the Maker. The Maker is supposed to be all about love and forgiveness, but all I've seen is judgment and punishment. He demands everything and gives nothing."

"That's because we mortal must earn back the Maker's forgiveness, Aedan. Only then will the Maker return to us." Eleanor insisted.

"That's not good enough for me, Mother!" Aedan said staunchly. "The Maker never showed Himself to anyone, never taught them, but demands everything for His own glory and casts all souls who don't into the Abyss. What kind of father abandons his children twice? What kind of husband leaves his wife to be killed by her enemies? If that's the kind of god the Chantry wants to venerate, I want nothing to do with Him, because he's only earned my scorn."

Bryce, Eleanor, and Fergus all said nothing, they just looked at Aedan who stared at the floor in shame. He couldn't bring himself to look at his own family for fear of what his decision would bring from them.

"I'm sorry, but this is I can't put my faith in this Maker, He hasn't earned it." Aedan said with regret. "I know this disappoints you, and if you hate me for it..."

"Aedan, stop right now." Eleanor said sternly with hurt in her voice. Aedan quickly obeyed. The teyrna walked up to her son and gently placed her hand on his cheek, looking at him softly before hugging him closely to her. "Oh, Aedan, how could you think such a thing. You're my baby, I could _never_ hate you."

Aedan held his mother closely and softly began weeping tears of relief. He was so afraid that once he made his atheism known, that his faithful parents would hate him and cast him out. Now his fear were laid to rest.

Bryce joined his wife and comforted his son. "Your mother's right, Aedan. You have the right to believe what you want, follow the path you choose. I...I don't agree with your decision, but I do respect it. Perhaps, one day, you might be proven wrong about the Maker. Until that time, you're still my son, and I will always be proud of you."

Aedan lifted his head and looked to his older brother. "What about you, Fergus?"

Fergus just shrugged and looked at his younger brother curiously. "No matter what you believe, you're still my little brother. But what are you going to believe in if not the Maker?"

"I still have my family, and I still have Ferelden." Aedan answered.

"Damned right you do, brother." Fergus smiled and tousled his brother's hair playfully.

Cassandra and the others watched the memory unfold before their eyes and felt the emotion this event had. It obviously had great significance to Aedan. More than that, it showed just how the events of his past and how his family would play a huge role in shaping the Hero into the man he would one day become.

"It would seem the Hero was telling the truth earlier." Vivienne recalled. "All this time, I thought he had suffered some Chantry related trauma that cemented his severe disdain for the Chantry and the Maker, but it seems that he truly had an idealistic childhood. Surprising, seeing the man he is now."

"Just wait a little longer, Enchanter. I'm sure you'll see the trauma you want use to justify your belief that Aedan is a mindless barbarian." Zevran responded with scorn in his voice. "But no matter what you'll see here, Aedan is still a greater figure than you could ever hope to be."

"All this time I thought the Hero's hate for religion was no different than that of any other black-hearted bastard who just want an excuse to do terrible things." Ranier confessed. "He actually looked into the histories, studied the Chant and compared it to what he truly believed in his heart, and found the Maker wanting."

"And here I thought he was just another nob living in a fancy castle. Guess even nobs got problems with believing in things." Sera admitted grudgingly. "Least he had parents who cared, not everyone does."

"Many people hide behind belief and use it like a mask, while others use it an excuse. Aedan knew what he believed in his heart, and his family still loved him for it." Cole said smilingly. "I wish there were more fathers that loved their children like this."

Iron Bull looked over to Dorian and was surprised to his lover was actually crying. "Hey, Kadan? What's with the waterworks?"

Dorian grabbed his colored kerchief, wiped the tears from his eyes and tried to regain his composure. "Oh, Maker, it's just that...this reminds me so much of when I came out of the closet to my parents. It was an emotional disaster. I wish so much my mother and father could have been as caring as the Hero's."

"Yeah, I know how you feel, Sparkler." Varric said supportively. "Andraste's ass, if either of my parents lived long enough to find out that I don't give a single nug's shit about the Ancestors or tradition, I'd probably be dead to them. Wish my older brother could have been more like Aedan's, too."

Cassandra looked at the memory with nostalgic feelings of child-like longing in her heart. That long forgotten feeling of how a child longs for the love and affection of their parents. "My brother and I were raised by our uncle not long after our parents died, and he barely ever interacted with us. I barely remember my mother and father, but I like to think they were good people, like Aedan's parents. They loved him so unconditionally."

**~A Year Later~**

The memory shifted forward and all of them found themselves in another corridor of Castle Cousland. They heard powerful footsteps echoing through the hall and saw the Teyrn walking to the outside courtyard, and he wasn't alone. Standing next to him was what had to have been the most colossal human being any of them had ever seen. He was a massive mountain of muscle wearing thick furs and splintmail and stood a foot and half taller than Iron Bull. His face was covered by a large, shaggy black beard that would have shamed all the dwarves of Orzammar, and on trailing over his left eye was a massive scar from when someone tried to stab him in the head with a sword.

"Holy crap, that guy is huge!" Iron Bull shouted in utter astonishment.

"I've seen golems smaller than this guy!" Varric stated almost unable to believe the comparison himself.

No one else said a thing. They just watched the teyrn and the human giant keep walking, wondering what the teyrn could be doing with a man like this.

"So, tell me, Bryce, me old friend, whut seems t'be da trouble wit yerr boy?" The towering human asked with a booming voice with a thick, unrefined brogue.

"Well, Argyle, Aedan is a...well, let's say a headstrong lad. He has strong convictions for a boy his age. He knows what he believes in, and he's not afraid to stand for those beliefs. It's enough to make any father proud." Bryce explained proudly, then came the part where he had to explain what was wrong. "However, he has...well let's just say he has a bit of a temper, and it's starting to worry his mother and I."

"Well, he is at that age, Bryce. I'm sure that his teenage hormones are half the problem." Argyle reasoned. "When you and I were at that age, we were learning how to kill Chevaliers, and having foreigners occupy our lands didn't exactly improve our disposition."

"Last week I took him to Denerim for the Landsmeet, and he went off exploring the city on his own. Two hours later, I'm summoned by the city watch and the Arl of Denerim's guards and they had arrested Aedan for brutally assaulting the Arl's son...with a rock."

"Oh." Argyle uttered. "Well, that is'nae normal fer a boy his age at all. What'd the Arl's son do to piss yer boy off?"

"Well, it turns out Arl Urien's son, Vaughn, is quite fond of being a bully to the city's elves." Bryce explained. "Aedan saw Vaughn and his friends assaulting an elven girl and started ripping her cloths off, so Aedan did what any decent person would do, and beat the daylights out of that spoiled brat. With a rock."

"Well, if ye're so proud of yer boy fer what he done, what do ya need me fer?" Argyle inquired.

Bryce looked up to the towering giant with a deathly serious concern in his eyes. "Because, Argyle, the only thing that kept Aedan from being locked in the Denerim prison for the next three years was the fact that he happened to be _my_ son. Anyone else, and Arl Urien would have had them in chains or executed for doing the honorable thing. Aedan thinks far too much with his heart, wearing his emotions on his sleeve, then acting on them. If that is how he wishes to live his life, then so be it. But I want my son strong enough to face the consequences of his actions if this is how he chooses to live. You, Argyle, were one of the fiercest and strongest of Ash Warriors during the Occupation. You kept fighting at the battle of White River even after a Chevalier stabbed you in the eye with his sword. I want you to teach that strength to my son."

Argyle thought for a moment, and gave the Teyrn his answer. "Alright, Bryce, I'll do it. Ye saved m'life at White River, s'only fair that I teach yer son how to stay alive."

The Teyrn and Ash Warrior made their way to the training courtyard where the adolescent Aedan was striking a practice dummy with a wooden sword.

"Aedan, come over here please."

The boy did as his father beckoned. His eyes widened like saucers and his jaw dropped at seeing the immense size of the bearded behemoth standing next to his father.

"Aedan, it's rude to stare and leave your mouth hanging open." Bryce chided. Aedan quickly closed his mouth and did his best not stare, but it was rather difficult. "This is Argyle, an old comrade of mine from the war. He will be the new master-at-arms here at Castle Highever. And he's going to teach you everything you'll need to know about combat."

"What the hell do you eat?! People?!" Aedan blurted loudly, completely disregarding his manners.

"Oh, I like him already, Lord Teyrn." Argyle chuckled.

"You wanted to learn how to be a protector of our country, Aedan. Argyle will show you how." Bryce turned and left his son and new master at arm to acquaint themselves with each other.

"Well, now the yer daddy's nae here, I gotta admit, you're sorta of a runt, kid." Argyle stated unimpressed. "From the way yer pa spoke of ye, I was expectin' somethin'...bigger, scarier."

Aedan returned Argyle's unimpressed look. "Yeah? Well, I have to admit that your body odor smells worse than the kennels on a hot summer day, and by the looks of your face, your daddy must have been the ugliest son of a bitch in all of Ferelden and decided to steal himself a night with a pig because he couldn't even get a blind prostitute to suffer his needs."

Argyle said nothing. Just kept staring at the diminutive kid like he was stunned. Then he grabbed Aedan by the collar of his shirt and threw him across the courtyard. The straw dummies Aedan was hitting earlier broke his fall, and he quickly got back up with his wooden sword to wildly attack the giant. Argyle grabbed Aedan's fake weapon and snapped it in his hand like it was twig before shoving the boy to the ground and plant his foot on his chest. Aedan struggled to get the massive boot off him, but it was in vain, Argyle was too strong and heavy.

"That, little lordling, was yer first lesson: talk shit get hit." Argyle informed, putting more pressure on Aedan's chest. "If yer gonna be talkin' smack ta other folks, ye had better be ready ta back it up, or this is gonna happen ta ya ev'ry time. Yer daddy's hired me ta make sure ye know how to stay alive when that big mouth and bad temper of yers gets ye into trouble. As it is, ye can't even hold a candle ta me, much less a great warrior like Loghain Mac Tir. So, ye want to become a real soldier of Ferelden, then ye'd better wise up and start ta learnin' quickly. Yer life starts right now!"

Everyone watched as images of Aedan's training flashed by them. Argyle's training was brutal, especially for someone still so young. The days of physical training from morning until night, the hundreds of hours of weapons and hand-to-hand training, and the ruthlessly violent and unrelenting sparring sessions against Argyle. Yet through it all, Aedan never gave up, never asked for reprieve. He just got back and demanded more.

"Push! Push, ya little runt!" Argyle shouted viciously as he pressed his foot on Aedan's back while he tried to do push-ups on his knuckles. Aedan's knuckles bled on the ground, and he could feel his fists starting to crack from all the strain, but he would not cry, he would not submit.

"Push! Push, harder! Give honor to yer Alamarii heritage! The enemy will never show ye mercy, ye must be merciless in kind! No pain, no fear, no mercy!"

"No pain! No fear! No mercy!" Aedan screamed over and over again like a mantra. Despite his determination, tears of pain streamed down Aedan's face against his will as his knuckles bled, his bones crack, and the fresh, deep bruises on his body still stung horribly.

"Are those tears I see? You little girl!" Argyle mocked mercilessly. "The only thing that should ever wet yer face is the blood of yer enemies! Ye think because ye're doing a few push-ups and got a few bruises in sparring ye know what pain is? Ha! Ye don't know shit, ye little runt! Ye're a Cousland, born into wealth and power on a fancy bed with a silver spoon, ye don't know suffering! Dalish, Chasind, and Avvar, the children of these barbarians all learn to hunt and kill the instant they learn to walk, and dwarven soldiers train from childhood. Ye think ye can stack up to them with yer soft hands and weak muscles? Don't make me laugh! Ye got some catchin' up to do if ye ever want to be a great warrior. Now, stop that cryin' and push!"

"No pain! No fear! No mercy!" Aedan yelled his throat hoarse, and kept on pushing. He would never give in. If the children of the so-called barbarians can learn to endure such pain, so can he.

"The more ya bleed in the trainin' yard, the less ye'll bleed in the battlefield. But if ye're bleedin' in the privy then ya need to see a healer or somethin', cause I can't help ya with that."

Time flashed again, and Aedan was standing before a rack of armaments that possessed every kind of weapon there was. Longswords, rapier, daggers, maces, spears, axes, and hammers. Every weapon of every style was before him.

"Today, we begin training in the weapon style ye wish ta master." Argyle said sternly. "The weapon ye choose will become part'a who ye are and the style ye will use against yer enemies. All styles are different, with its own strengths and weaknesses, so choose wisely. The right weapon can mean victory or defeat. If and when war comes to this country again, which weapon will you go to war with?"

Aedan looked at the weapons before him, carefully considering which discipline he would commit himself to. Didn't even take a minute until he chose the weapon that would define his fighting style.

"Ah, the battle-axe. Very good." Argyle approved. "Simple, yet brutal and to the point."

"The weapon of a barbarian. The most fitting tool for a Fereldan warrior." Aedan smiled.

"Remember this, Aedan, the proper weapon is only half the arsenal necessary for a great warrior." Argyle instructed. "If you truly wish to dominate your opponents and drive the enemy before you, you must learn to break their wills and shatter their focus."

"And how do I accomplish that?" Aedan asked confoundedly.

A deep chuckle rumbled in the giant's chest. "Insult them, mock them, make them angry and they'll lose focus and make a mistake. But if you really want to break their spirit, inspire fear, make them regret ever laying eyes on you, and you will own them. For me, that's always been easy because of my size and strength."

"Well, I'm not a freak of nature like you, Argyle. How can I inspire such fear into anyone?"

"You're going to have to discover that for yourself, Aedan, if you're to become the warrior you want to be." Argyle answered. "I have found that what frightens most people is either being burned alive, or _eaten_ alive. If you can put that fear into your enemies, then there won't be a soul alive that can challenge you."

Aedan looked at the axe in his hand, contemplating on his teacher's words. To inspire fear in his enemies, break their will. "I will find a way, Argyle. Many people revered knights. _Everyone_ fears barbarians."

**A Year Later in Val Royeaux,**

Aedan was walking in the familiar surrounding of Orlais' imperial capital. At this point in their lives, almost all of them, especially Vivienne, recognized the all too familiar sights and sounds of Val Royeaux. Aedan was walking through the apartments of the University of Val Royeaux's dorm complex. He was carrying a pad of papers and a paint palette. Looked like he was leaving a class and heading back to his room. He was definitely older, on the brink of adulthood, yet he still did not have his signature tattoos, nor did he even posses that presence of his that made people afraid of him.

"This is the University of Val Royeux." Dorian observed keenly. "What was the Hero doing here?"

"I remember Aedan saying that he was a student here in his youth. That he came to the University to study art." Cassandra recalled.

"Ah, yes, I remembering Aedan mentioning this before. I believe he said that his mother insisted that he learn to do more with his hands than just beat people to a pulp with them." Zevran informed.

"And he came to very bastion of culture and learning? His mother was a wiser woman than I would have thought." Vivienne commented acerbically.

"Seems like a waste of time." Iron Bull huffed. "If this guy was training to be a master of war, why bother studying something he obviously hasn't pursued?"

"Come now, Iron Bull, surely you can't find harm in someone expanding their horizons." Vivienne insisted.

"Look at the Hero. What's he doing?" Cassandra wondered as she watched the young Aedan Cousland.

As Aedan walked to make his way back to his dorm for the day, he heard something that instantly caught his attention and his ire.

"Messere, please, I...I'm engaged..." A meek voice pleaded from behind one of the apartment doors.

"Don't worry little rabbit, I'll be sure to teach you some lessons you can show your betrothed." An Orlesian-accented voice said lecherously.

"No! Please, I...I don't want this..." The woman pleaded desperately.

A loud slap echoed from behind the door followed by the woman's pained sobbing.

"Silence, slut! I don't care what you want. What _I_ want is all that matter, and it is my right to take it!" The Orlesian yelled angrily.

Aedan had heard enough. His sense of decency incensed and his anger provoked, the foreign noble clenched his clenched his fist and smashed the door right off its hinges. The young Aedan came upon a crying elven woman with tear stains on her face, a slap mark on her cheek, and half her clothes torn off her body. A finely dressed young Orlesian man was standing over her, with his pants down.

"Dear Andraste!" Vivienne gasped in shock. "That man...it's Duke Girarde!"

"Oh, well, that's just grand, innit?" Sera said in sarcastic disgust. "Prim and proper Lady Iron-Butt likes to rub elbows with nobs that pass the time by beating and raping serving girls. How unlike every noble in Orlais."

"There are too many bastards like this in the world." Ranier added in revilement. "The world would be better for it if someone just executed them all, title or not."

"Just what the fuck is this?!" Aedan demanded furiously.

"How dare you interrupt!" Girared shouted back, pulling his pants back up.

"P-please, messere, help me..." The elven woman begged.

"Silence, slut!" Girared ordered and slapped the elven maid again and making her cry before turning his attention back to Aedan. "I remember you. You're that Fereldan turnip this University was mad enough to enroll. Since you obviously learned no manners in that stinking ice cube you call a country, let me enlighten you: I am a noble of Orlais, and in this country, we know how to control our elves. If I wish to exert my authority on a knife-ear, and have a little fun with it, then that's my right. Who do you think you are to infringe upon me?!"

Aedan clenched his fist until his knuckles turned white and the blood in his veins boiled like a witch's cauldron. He had always had disdain for Orlesians as a rule for what they did to his country during the occupation, but this? Now he truly understood why his elders back home hated Orlais, and now shared in their loathing. This vile prick needed to be reminded why Ferelden hated this wretched empire.

Aedan cracked his knuckles loudly, his eyes filled with anger and disgust. "So this is what you Orlesian nobles do for fun, huh? Well, let me show you how we have fun back in Ferelden!"

Aedan jammed his fist right into Girarde's nose, flattening it beneath his knuckles and sent him flying across the room. The Fereldan noble would not stop there. He could not abide, tolerate, or allow such vile, disgraceful actions to go unpunished. It was against everything he held sacred as a Fereldan. His father and grandfather fought against such villainy, Aedan could do no less.

All of them watched the memory unfold before them as Aedan unleashed all the years of training under Argyle's brutal tutelage on the vile Orlesian nobleman. Argyle's training was most effective. Aedan smashed Girarde's body and broke his bones like he was made of paper and twigs. Girarde begged Aedan for mercy with his own tears and blood staining his face. Aedan showed Girared the same clemency he showed that elven woman he was going to rape: with more beatings and verbal abuse. The elven woman watched in silence as she carefully placed her clothes back on, and smiled contently to herself. For the fist time in her life, she felt there was justice in the world.

**The Next Day...**

Aedan stood in front of the Dean of the University's desk. By now, the entire institution, and probably half of the capital, was abuzz about the severe and unadulterated mauling a Fereldan student had given to one of the son of one of the members of the imperial court. To anyone else, it would have been an unbearable scandal, but Aedan just stood there, obviously not giving a single damn.

Dean Claude, on the other hand, was less than pleased about the occurrence. He glared at the young Fereldan lord like this whole scandal was about to give him a stroke.

"Do you have any idea what your little indiscretion has done to the reputation of this university, young man?" The balding old man asked sternly. "This academy prided itself on being the center of academic learning and enlightenment in the South. Now, thanks to you, every patron and donator to this school thinks that it's some kind of...stable where the students brawl and bicker like at some seedy tavern!"

"Tch. A seedy tavern would be a step up from where I'm standing." Aedan scoffed.

"Damn it all, young man, this is serious! I should think the son of the esteemed Teyrn Cousland would respect the fact that our nations are no longer at war!" The dean shouted. "I'm sure that if he were to learn of your disgraceful behavior, he'd be heartbroken."

Aedan glare at the old Orlesian administrator, and the old man withdrew when he noticed Aedan's fist clenching.

"Be very careful, old man." Aedan warned. "Don't you dare try to assume like you know my father better than I do. It's...insulting."

Dean Claude remained composed, but had no doubt that this young man trained in combat would make an east target out of him if provoked.

"Be grateful that you didn't kill Girarde, otherwise there would be cause for war, and I'm sure _that_ would upset your father." Claude rebutted calmly. "Small comfort, irregardless. The healers say Girarde will be lucky if h cane ever walk again, thanks to the damage you inflicted on him."

"Ha! He's just lucky I didn't mangle _all_ three of his legs. Well, more like an eleventh toe than third leg, really." Aedan laughed.

"No, you're the one who is lucky!" Dean Cluade shouted down. "Lucky to have been born with such a powerful, diplomatic name. Anyone else, anyone of lesser stock, would have been thrown into a cell and awaiting the gallows for this offense. It's only thanks to your noble status that you're only facing expulsion and not execution. Such a pity, really. You've thrown away an education most people can't even dream of. I don't know how it is in Ferelden, thank Andraste, but here, in Orlais, we actually have civilized standards. The peasantry know their place and we do not try to start a war over one lord's minor indiscretion."

Aedan's eye began to twitch and his fist clenched in utter outrage. Then, for the first time in these memories, everyone saw that famous temper of Aedan Cousland's. The outraged Fereldan noble kicked the dean's desk so hard he pinned the dean against the wall, knocking the wind out of him, and possibly cracked his ribs, before cursing at the top of his lungs.

"_Minor indiscretion_? That son of a bitch was trying to rape a woman! Doesn't that mean anything to anyone here in the fucking empire!? If this is what you call a '_civilized standard'_, I'd rather be filthy barbarian any day of the week! Your Chevalier code is a load of bullshit! I've met dogs with more honor than you wine-sipping cheese monkeys! King Maric and General Loghain didn't kill nearly enough of you shitheads! Gods, I hope go into another war, then I crucify your fuckers, burn you alive and feed you to the dogs! Fuck this empire, fuck your Chantry, fuck your Chevalier, and fuck your stuck-up bitch of an empress!"

Aedan's tirade continued without stop or reprieve even after he had stormed out of the dean's office. Every student and teacher of the university gave the enraged Fereldan former student a wide berth as he made his way out, lest they be the next victims of his anger. Cassandra and the others even spotted a younger Josephine Montilyet in the halls, and realized just how little she aged since then.

Aedan couldn't believe this bullshit. If a lord tried to pull this kind of crap back in Ferelden, not all would the entire peasantry rise up in revolt, and all the lords with a sense of honor would condemn this action. But here? Here, the common people had no rights, and the elves had even less. Nobles strut around like peacocks, thinking their shit smells better than everyone else's, acting like they deserve respect and privilege they didn't earn. Then when someone actually stands up to their tyranny, the nobles act as if they're the innocent party. What a load of shit! All he wanted to do now was go back home.

Aedan was so angry with what happened here, that he didn't even bother waiting for the season to end to head back to Ferelden, or even for the next boat out to Amaranthine. Aedan wanted to be back on his native soil right now. So he just went to the stables, got on his horse and rode westward towards the Frostbacks. Cassandra and the other realized sooner than Aedan did that that was a mistake.

**Two Days Later...**

A terrible blizzard had swallowed the Frostback Mountains as Aedan tried to take the paths back to Gherlen's Pass back to Ferelden. Aedan was so furious, that he didn't take into account that he was making his way though Frostbacks at the start of winter, when the weather in these mountains was at it harshest. The storm clouds blocked out the sun as crippling winds whipped at the mountains side and hard balls of ice the size of a fist fell from the sky. Being only witnesses to this event, Cassandra and the others felt none of the terrible pains of this weather, and could only watch as Aedan suffered every minute of his ill-fated decision.

"Shiiit! What the fuck was I thinking!?" Aedan cursed at himself furiously. "Everyone knows not to brave the Frostbacks at the start of winter!"

"Even _I_ knew that." Cole commented.

Despite the brutally harsh conditions, Aedan refused to turn back. He was too angry and stubborn to do the wise thing, and in this mood, he'd rather face certain death in this blizzard than go back to Orlais. Where as most sane people would be scared and try to find shelter, Aedan furiously soldiered on, daring the snow storm to try harder.

"Is this the best you can do!?" Aedan challenged the howling winds and frigid mountains like they were his enemy. "You're gonna have to do better than that if you want to make me turn back! You hear me?! I am Aedan of Highever! I will never submit!"

"The guy's absolutely batty." Sera remarked. "Yelling at the mountains and snow? That's crazy, yeah?"

"He is a warrior to the core, and his pride as a warrior demands that he press on, no matter the hardship." Cassandra acknowledged.

"Trust me, Aedan has survived far worse than bad weather. I've seen it." Zevran assured.

Aedan's horse soon fell and broke it's leg, forcing him to put the beast out of its misery. Not letting this mishap become a total loss, Aedan slit the horse's jugular and drank its warm blood for nutrients and warmth. An act that made Vivienne, Sera, Dorian and Varric almost vomit when they saw it. Aedan rose back up, his face covered in blood, and screamed a roar of challenge back at the winds.

"This is nothing! You are nothing!" Aedan yelled, his challenge echoing over the storm and through the mountains. "Gods of the Frostbacks, you won't deter me. Maker, if you're really out there, I dare you to try and stop me, you pussy!"

At that very moment, someone, the gods of the Frostbacks, or the Maker, answered Aedan's challenge. The mountains rumbled and groaned like they were coming to life and ground shook from its anger with such force Aedan was almost thrown off his feet. Then he saw the response of the higher powers he had provoked. An avalanche of snow came down on him like a white tidal wave as hundred of tons of snow, rock and debris slid off the mountainside. There was no cover to hide behind or a place to run, nor would Aedan flee even if there was. He would not back down from the challenge he had made. A warrior faces his death, never runs from it.

**"I AM AEDAN OF HIGHEVER!"** Aedan roared in defiance as he stood his ground and the Avalanche came down upon him.

**The Next Morning...**

Everyone watched as the sun broke through the following morning after the blizzard broke. It was clear that Aedan had survived this insane venture, but as to how anyone could survive such a wrathful encounter with nature, they could only watch to find the answer. Their answer came in the form of a certain golden-haired woman with a heart-shaped face and a generous bust wearing leathers that clinged to her buxom form like a glove.

Ranier's jaw dropped in shock. "Maker's breath, I don't believe it."

"Never thought we'd see her again." Varric commented.

"I hoped we'd never see her again." Vivienne scoffed.

"I _prayed_ to see her again." Zevran added with his tongue wagging.

"Oooh. Now this magic memory thing is getting interesting." Sera laughed wantonly.

"Siobahn? The shaman of Bear-Hold?" Cassandra realized with a deep blush on her face. She remembered how the Avvar mage once made a pass at her, and actually found it flattering.

Siobahn was accompanied by her fellow Avvar of her tribe, and it looked like she was digging around in the snow for something. And like anything Siobahn did, even digging, she did it with sass and did everything she could to show off her feminine assets. She got on her hands and feet and began digging out the snow, giving the spectators and her fellow tribesman a clear view of her of her shapely rump.

"Siobahn, what in Korth's name are we doing here? Let's just head back to camp." One of the hunters insisted, trying to avoid staring at her ass.

"Nae, not yet. Something last night stirred Korth's wrath when he sent that avalanche through this pass." Siobahn rejected in her Avvar accent. "T'would be best to discover what that something was. It could be a danger to the Hold." Whatever it was, it was around here, somewhere."

Siobahn continued digging through the snow, searching for any clue as to what happened here last night. Siobahn screamed loud enough to start another avalanched when something with a powerful grip grabbed her from beneath the snow. The hunters rushed over to their mage-sister, ready to kill what was threatening her, but she motioned them to stop. Using her free hand, she carefully used her magic to remove the snow off of whatever it was that was grabbing her. Her eyes were filled with surprise at what she found there.

"N-n-not d-dead...yet. I...am...Aedan of Highever..." The young Fereldan shivered, almost blue from the cold. He was still alive, but barely.

Siobahn stared at the prize she found beneath the snow and considered what this could have meant.

"Siobahn, what is it? What's caught ye?" One of the hunters asked concerned.

"It's an Alamarri, and a handsome one at that. Seems he was caught by the avalanche. He's still breathing, though." Siobahn answered, taking the time to admire Aedan's perfectly formed face.

"Shall we kill him, then? Might be the merciful thing to do. Strangers shouldn't be crawling these mountains, anyway." The other hunter suggested.

"No, we shall not. We will bring him to the hold." Siobahn instructed. "Korth brought his wrath down upon this man, yet he survived when any other man would have been killed. Haakon Wintersbreath himself must have been watching this man. We'd be fools not to see the favor the gods have in this man. Besides, he's _much_ too handsome to just kill like this."

**~XoXoXo~**

All of them watched as the memories of this time Aedan had with the Avvar unfolded before them. How Siobahn Skin-Changer nursed him back to health, and instead of slitting his throat or holding him ransom, they welcomed this stranger into their hold as one of their own. Aedan learned more in the winter he spent these tribesman in their mountains than he did in the time he spent at the University in Val Royeaux.

The Frostback Mountains was one of the most dangerous places in all of Thedas. Harsh weather, treacherous terrain, and if the cunning beasts of the wild didn't kill you, hostile tribesman would. Yet despite all these hardships, the Avvar have not only survived, they have flourished, making these mountains their own. Here, the harsh winds and bitter cold whittled its people to their true cores. There was no room for softness, no place for empty promises or weak wills. Here, you were either strong, honorable, and brave, or you were not. It was this strength of will, this sense of honor that Aedan sought to learn from the warrior of Bear-Hold.

With the Avvar, Aedan honed his martial skills, learned the true ways of combat. With the Avvar, unlike in Orlais and even Ferelden, there were no rules or ceremony when it came to combat. No such thing as dirty tactics. You win or you die, no room for etiquette or empty customs. He hunted the fierce beasts of the Frostbacks with them, learning their secrets and tactics. How to lure the prey and exploit it weaknesses. They even showed him their secret for boosting their strength after a hunt. They would hunt down one of the mighty beasts of the Frostbacks, such a great bear or a red lion, and ritualistically cut out its heart and eat it. To consume the strongest organ in any creature's heart, where many people believed the soul resided, was to take its strength.

That particular cultural exchange made all the viewers, particularly Vivienne and Sera, want to vomit.

Soon winter turned into spring, opening the paths back to the Lowlands. Aedan had learned all he could from the Avvar of Bear-Hold, and it was time for him to return to his own people. Aedan had come to this people as a stranger, but they had come to accept this Alamarri as their brother. In the whole winter he had spent with these tribesman, he had seen more honor and strength than during his entire time in Orlais and it's Great Game. The Orlesians hid behind their fancy masks and pretended to have honor while never truly knowing the meaning of the word. The Avvar wore their honor with pride, never hiding what they truly were, no matter who it offended. From this day forward, Aedan would wear his honor, everything he valued on his skin, so that the entire world would know who he truly is.

Siobahn herself bestowed the tattoos that Aedan has since then proudly worn on his body. On both his knees is the Royal Signet of Ferelden, declaring that he would kneel before no one but his king. On his left arm is a black snowflake beneath twin axes crossing, the symbol of Hakkon Wintersbreath, to honor the god of winter and war that the Avvar believed had blessed Aedan. On his right, Aedan placed the symbol of the Teyrnir of Highever, a green dewdrop behind twin spears crossing, that the strength of Highever might strengthen Aedan's sword arm. On Aedan's back, Siobahn inked the image of the Lady of The Skies, and an inscription in the Avvar tongue that reads, _"I am always watching"_, a reminder of how death is but to never fear her. Over his heart is the Sigil of House Cousland, for his family is always in his heart. And finally, the most recognized of all Aedan's tattoos, the blue ink styled like Alamarri war paint that veiled his face.

Now, this was the Aedan Cousland all of them recognized. He came to the Frostbacks as an enraged youth, and now he would leave on his journey to become the greatest and most feared warrior in Ferelden.

"So this is how he got all those tattoos. I gotta admit, didn't really recognize him without them." Varric confessed.

"Seeing all this, explains a lot." Zevran realized. After witnessing this memory, a lot of things with Aedan made much more sense to him.

"He left his home to learn more, only to find what he hated. Then he came here, and discovered strength of character he didn't know existed. When he left these mountains, he knew who he would become." Cole spoke out insightfully.

"Such very juvenile and impulsive decision, putting those marks on his face." Vivienne admonished disdainfully. "I would think the son of a powerful noble would have had more self-respect than that."

"So, I guess you think the same about the Inquisitor? Huh, Iron Lady?" Ranier countered rhetorically. "That to display what one values without shame is uncouth and barbaric? It's better to wear what you honor and live by them, then to discard it like an accessory when it's outdated."

"From what we saw of those Avvar guys back in the Frostback Basin, they're probably some of the toughest sons of bitches in the South. He learned a lot more from them than he did from those pansies back in Orlais." Iron Bull agreed. "Too bad he couldn't make off with that hot Siobahn chick."

"Yes, but I think we all could have done without the whole hunting-an-animal-down-then-eating-its-heart sort of thing. That's just gross." Dorian stated, sticking out his tongue.

"That's for damned sure." Sera groaned looking pale at the thought of it.

"There are too many people who use the visage of righteousness and honor to hide what they truly are, to further their own agenda. We saw much of that in Winter Palace and amongst the remaining Grand Clerics, and Aedan saw that in Val Royeaux." Cassandra recalled disappointedly. "Amongst the Avvar, you either have honor or you do not, and those who don't are worthy only of contempt. It's an admirable way to live, even if he's still an asshole."

The memory began to fade away once again. The memories shifted and melted into blackness like paint off a canvas. Soon, the mountains and snow where gone, and the found themselves surrounded by darkness as black as pitch, and waited for what was to happen next.

**Years Later...**

The blackness faded away and everyone found themselves in new surroundings as another memory came to life before them. As soon as they got their bearing of this new environment, some of them began wishing they were back in the frigid mountains. They were standing in what appeared to be some kind of mansion back in Ferelden. It was spacious and grand, filled with rich trappings fit for the wealthiest of nobleman. Vibrant banners, Antivan rugs, dwarven furniture, and there was even statues that must have been carved in the Anderfels. However, it wasn't the finery that catching everyone's attention right now.

All around them, strewn across the floor, were the slain corpses of dozens of soldiers. More than dozens. There wasn't an inch of floor here that wasn't covered in blood, and the air reeked of death. This was no home of the living, but a killing field. An execution ground.

They looked like private soldiers, and all of them had been mauled and gored to death by what must have been a rabid giant. Their bodies had been cleaved open, their limbs torn off, and their heads smashed in. And all of the, every corpse that still had a face, had a twisted expression of unbridled terror frozen on them. Even the brave those who had witnessed Corypheus' terrible power did not have such fear instilled in them after death.

"Holy shit. This makes the massacre at Bartrand's mansion look like a wet dream." Varric gasped.

"This is more like a waking nightmare." Dorian commented, unable to take his eyes off the mangled corpses around them. "And here I thought the attack on Haven was brutal."

"Hot damn! This looks like bad day back in Seheron." Iron Bull exclaimed, remembering how much death surrounded the civilians of his old home.

"Blessed Maker, what happened here?" Cassandra wondered, appalled. by all the blood that surrounded him. "Look at these men. Just like the qunari back in the library, it's as if they were horribly scared of something, before being ripped apart."

"Ripped apart, split open, crushed, these men all died in some very painful ways, like their killer wanted them to know real pain before they died." Ranier observed.

"Whatever it was that came through here, these common soldiers stood no chance." Vivienne stated with no room for argument.

Cole began breathing erratically and could barely contain his discomfort. It was as if the very presence of this place was causing him pain. He could feel the emotions that radiated from this place, even as a memory.

"This is a bad place, a horrible place." Cole whimpered, trying cover his ears. It was as if he could hear the agonized screams of the dead men surrounding him. "They all died screaming, wailing, begging for mercy, but were given none. This place is drowning in fear and pain and...anger. So much anger."

"Maldecion...I prayed I would never have to relive this day." Zevran lamented aloud, his face fallen into his hand. "Why did it have to be _this_ memory?"

Everyone turned their attention to Zevran, and it became blatantly apparent that he was familiar with this place.

"Zevran, you know where we are? You know what did this?" Cassandra inquired.

"Of course I know, how could I not? Take a look around you, Seeker, who else could have done this?!" Zevran shouted motioning to all the carnage around them. "Only Aedan could have wreaked such devastation. And these motherless swines deserved every last bit of it!" Zevran hocked in his throat and hatefully spat on the dead surrounding them. "This...this is the Arl of Denerim's mansion. The hole where Rendon Howe chose to place himself after becoming Loghain's top bootlick, then decided to hold Queen Anora prisoner after she began to realize how insane her father was. Arl Eamon tasked Aedan and the rest of us to save the queen to use as political leverage against Loghain, so Anora's handmaiden snuck us into the manor dressed as soldiers. Then...then that's when everything went straight to hell."

"What happened next?" Varric dared to ask.

"Turns out, Arl Howe has adopted a new hobby: the delicate and widely formed art of torture." Zevran answered satirically, his lips curled with disgust. "Aedan...found the severed, rotting heads of the most loyal servants of his house hanging in the guards' armory like trophies. The captain of the guard bragged about how they kept them alive and tortured them to death, like it was a damned joke. Aedan completely lost his mind in a fit of rage, grabbed the axe of his slain master at arms they were keeping as a trophy, and slaughtered everyone in his path to Howe. The queen didn't matter, even the Blight didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was Aedan's revenge."

All of them had heard the stories, though some gave them little credence. How Teyrn Bryce was betrayed by his closest friend, his family murdered, then declared a traitor to Ferelden. Howe had stolen the Couslands ancestral seat at Teyrn of Highever and began a reign of corruption and tyranny in Loghain's name. Then Aedan came along with King Cailan's half-brother, and wreaked a terrible vengeance on Howe. The whispers amongst Loghain's supporters were that Aedan cannibalized Howe, a claim that Aedan neither denied, nor confirmed with anyone outside his circle. Now, they would all bear witness to the truth of Aedan's revenge.

Zevran walked forward and motioned everyone to follow him. "Come on, I still remember the way. But I hope you're all ready for what we're about to see, because I never did."

The Antivan elf led them further into the mansion, all of them carefully tried not to step on the trail of corpses in their way, or slip in their blood. Zevran led them down to the Arl Howe's dungeon, which was adjacent to his bedchamber. The mansion was as quiet and as dead as a tomb, with every soul that had not fled this place being slain. Then the silence was broken by the sounds of battle at the end of the dungeon's hallway.

Steel clashing and magic igniting from within the final cell, followed by the sounds of screaming, flesh tearing and the vile smell of death in all its forms emanating from the other side of the door.

"No! This can't be!" A cold, arrogant voice denied furiously.

"I know that voice." Zevran stated, clenching his fist angrily. "That's Arl Howe. We made it just in time."

"In time for what?" Cassandra dared to ask.

"To see the most spiritually uplifting moment in Aedan Cousland's life." Zevran answered with uncharacteristic seriousness.

All of them rushed through the door and into the cell and saw the companions Aedan had during the Blight. There was Alistair Theirin, now ruling King of Ferelden. Leliana, now Divine Victoria I. Zevran himself, though it was difficult to tell he had aged since this day. The Sten of the Baresaad, who rose to the role of Arishok. The late Senior-Enchanter Wynne of the Circle of Magi and representative of the Aequitarian Fraternity. The dwarf, Oghren Kondrat, ex-husband of Paragon Branka, former member of the Warrior Caste, and now decorated Grey Warden. And finally, there was Morrigan, the raven-haired Chasind witch and former Arcane Advisor to the Imperial Court. Every member of Aedan's company had risen highly in the world, thanks in no small part to their association to the Hero.

All of companions, the Inquisitor's and the Hero's both, watched as Aedan grabbed Howe by the neck and broke the Arl's back on his knee, paralyzing Howe from the waist down. Howe writhed and screamed in horrible agony, cursing and spiting wildly. Aedan watched his hated enemy writhe a depraved sense of glee in his eyes.

"Maker spit on you, and all Couslands, you godless whoreson!" Howe cursed viciously. "I...deserved..._more_!"

Aedan knelt down on his crippled enemy_._

"Oh, but you _do_ deserve more, Howe. And I'm going to give it to you." Aedan's grin was wide and sinister, and drooling in anticipation. And hunger. He held Howe's head in his powerful grip and turned the side of his face towards him. "All of you get out. Me and my old friend Howe have to get reacquainted."

Wynne understood that Aedan's family deserved to be avenged, but not like this.

"Aedan, please." Wynne begged. "If you kill this man like this, you'll be no better than him."

"I can live with that." Aedan answered indifferently.

Alistair knew Aedan deserved revenged but they still had a mission to accomplish. "Aedan, are you sure you want to do this?"

"Killing him is my sole purpose for existing, Alistair. I _must_ do this." Aedan growled angrily to his friend.

"But we don't have that much time!" Alistair urged, almost begged. "The queen is…."

"_**GET! OUT!"**_ Aedan roared one last time. All his companions quickly, though apprehensively, obeyed. There was no talking him out of this. While the memory-versions of Aedan's companions left, Rajmael's companions had no choice but to stay. They watched as the horrible extent and truth of Aedan's terrible vengeance unfolde right before their eyes. They wanted to look away, but the memory before them was so horrifying, that they were compelled to watch.

Aedan smacked his lips hungrily and sank his teeth deeply into Howe's left cheek and slowly ripped it off his face, leaving behind a massive, bloody hole that showed off Howe's jaw and screaming tongue as blood spurted from his gapping wound.

Aedan slowly chewed on the piece of flesh in his mouth, savoring the metallic taste of Howe's blood. It was even more delicious than he had dreamed of, and the shrill screaming of Howe's agony coming from his shredded face was sweeter than any of Leliana's songs.

Aedan spat Howe's cheek out of his mouth when it lost its flavor. He paused for a moment and thought about what else he could cut off. He reached into belt, grabbed his hunting knife and sliced Howe's ear off, making the old man sob and cry in agony.

Howe vainly tried to push Aedan's face to get him off, but to no avail. Instead Aedan grabbed the hand that was on his face and saw his father's ring on Howe's finger. Aedan grabbed that finger and snapped it like a chicken bone. He twisted the broken finger completely backwards ripped it right off Howe's hand.

"Damn you!" Howe gritted through his teeth in agony. "Maker Damn You!"

"The Maker's not here, Howe." Aedan answered as he rightfully placed his father's ring on his own finger. "He doesn't want to see what I'm doing to you."

Aedan looked down at the pathetic little man that had caused him so much grief and decided to remind him of the lives he destroyed. Aedan tore Howe's armor and shirt off his body and set to work on him at a very slow and very excruciatingly set to wok on Howe with his hunting knife. Bryce. Eleanor. Orianna. Oren. Fergus. Old Nan. Gilmore. Mallol. Argyle. He carved all these names into Howe's skin.

Finally, Aedan carved the Cousland Wreath right into Howe's forehead. _"_So that the souls of those you wronged will find you in the Fade!"

Howe tried to kick and fight Aedan off him, but his broken back made it impossible. All he could do was scream, gnash his teeth and curse that the Maker would damn his tormentor.

It was time for the bloody finish. Aedan sliced his knife down from Howe's sternum to his navel in one clean, deft stroke, causing Howe to writhe in searing agony the likes of which he never thought possible. The blood-crazed Warden grabbed his enemy by the hair and forced him to stare at his own eviscerated innards. Disembowelment was a horrifying thing to inflict on someone because it caused unbearable amounts of pain, while at the same time, not killing the victim.

Aedan speared his hand right into Howe's stomach like a lance. Howe screamed a blood curdling cry that sent Aedan's joy to new heights as he pulled out Howe's intestines right in front of his eyes_._

"I guess you had _some_ guts after all, Howe." Aedan laughed manically.

Aedan began absorbing the entropic energy of Howe's torment and clenched his now claw-like hand. It was time to finish this. The moment he had been dreaming about was finally his. He speared his hand into Howe's body one last time, and ripped his enemy's vile, greedy, and wretched heart right out of his own body. Howe's eyes bugged out of his skull in horror; the last thing he saw in this world before he died was watching his still beating heart be devoured by Aedan Cousland.

Cassandra and the others watched in horror and disgust as Aedan raised the vital organ over his head, and squeezed the heart's blood into his mouth. Aedan savored every drop of blood like it was sweeter than any wine he had ever tasted. Then he brought the heart to his lips, licked the warm organ with his tongue, and began to wolf it down his throat in several powerful chomps. He couldn't eat it fast enough. Aedan's hunger for vengeance was insatiable, and he had been starving for it for too long.

Aedan swallowed the last bit of Howe's wretched excuse for a heart, and licked his lips so that he might remember how savory vengeance tasted. A loud, wet belch erupted from Aedan's gullet, spraying chunks of flesh and blood in the air. The Hero of Ferelden stood over the eviscerated body of his hated enemy, and took a moment to enjoy that look of terror and pain frozen on Howe's face. Aedan hocked in his throat, and spat in Howe's dead eye before leaving his body to rot in his own dungeon. The rest of his body would be consumed by the rats.

Cassandra and the others were all frozen in utter horror at the nightmare they had just born witness to. All except for Sera, who was vomiting the contents of her stomach all over the floor. None of them could speak. It was like they had been paralyzed by Howe's death.

No matter what the circumstance, cannibalism was a heinous taboo in practically every culture in existence. To commit such an act was to lower oneself beneath even an animal. It was turn oneself into a monster and be forever separated from ones own kind. Not only did Aedan willingly commit this atrocity, he did it happily and with a smile on his face.

"Andraste's perky tits! I'm gonna be sick for a week!" Sera shouted before hurling on the floor again.

"O Holy Maker and Andraste, please be merciful..." Cassandra shuddered, finally finding the courage to say something.

"Mercy? For Howe?! Surely, you jest, Seeker." Zevran denied in disbelief. "As if that wretched son of a pig was worthy of such a thing! You didn't see the crimes he committed, the people he tortured, how he made all those loyal to Aedan's suffer! As far as I'm concerned, whatever hell Howe's rotting is too good for him!"

"I have no doubt that Howe's sins were terrible, and he deserved to be punished for them, but how could Aedan commit to something so abominable?" Cassandra dared to ask.

"For vengeance sake, what else?" Zevran enlightened. "None of you, and definitely not myself, had a family that you loved and loved you in return. Then to have that stripped away from you all for one man's greed, well, cruelty is the only answer to such treachery."

"War is a cruel and vicious thing. Sometimes, it does things to men and makes them into monsters." Ranier spoke, knowing that truth all too well.

Vivienne held her handkerchief to her face to keep herself from feeling the same ill-effects Sera was suffering. "To be raised a nobleman, born into power and influence most cannot even dream of, and he chooses to be a bloody savage. Such a waste."

"I'd be very careful about what you say, Madame de Fer." Zevran warned casually. "Ask yourself this: after seeing what Aedan is capable of, would you ever want to earn his hatred?"

Vivienne silenced herself. She wouldn't admit it, but knowing that General Cousland had no regard for any form of protocol or even civilized conduct, and to earn his would be a most troublesome thing.

"Andraste's flaming knickers. I thought all those stories about his cannibalism were just that: stories meant to scare criminals and naughty kids." Varric spoke, trying to move past what he just saw. "Don't go bullying that kid down the street, or Aedan Cousland's going to get you while you sleep and eat you. Now we all know those aren't empty threats."

"Jeez! No wonder people don't wanna fuck with this guy. I know I don't." Iron Bull commented loudly. "If there's anyone dumb enough to piss this guy off, then they deserve to die!"

"I was with Rajmael in that horrible future Corypheus tried to create, and I saw first hand what Aedan Cousland was capable of, including his...unusual eating habits." Dorian recalled, trying to collect himself. "And I know full well the extents he'll go to exact his vengeance on someone. Which is going to make it all the sweeter when we get out of here and find the Viddasala."

Despite seeing the depths of darkness that dwelled within the souls of some of the most villainous people in Thedas, even Corypheus, Cole was visibly shaken by what he had just seen. "There was so much pain and anger and hatred in him. It boiled inside him like a cauldron until it was overflowing into his soul. What he did here, it was the only thing that could give him peace."

Now there was a frightening thought. All of them found inner peace in their own ways, something that helped them cope with the insanity of their lives. Some found peace through their faith in religion or their friends, for others it was living by a code or a standard of living. Then there were those who found peace just through the simple pleasures in life. What kind of a man was Aedan Cousland that the only thing that could ever bring him peace was the horrific death and cannibalization of his most hated enemy?

**~XoXoXo~**

Howe's dungeon walls disappeared around them as the projections of Aedan's memory took them forward into his life. They found themselves at the front gate of Denerim, and the whole city was on fire. Black clouds of smoke eclipsed the sun and they were almost deafened by the sounds of wails of anguish and battle cries. The acrid smell of brimstone and burning flesh filled their nostrils and churned their stomachs. The streets were littered with dead Fereldan citizens as hordes of Darkspawn laid waste to the kingdom's capital.

People attempting to flee into safety only to run into towering Ogre and be devoured by them. Men butchered while vainly trying to fight back against the hurlocks. Women trying to hide their children, only to fail and all be killed and eaten by Shrieks. All of them had borne witness to the atrocities of war, but this was something beyond that. It was slaughter, an evil slaughter. It was the Fifth Blight.

"Blessed Andraste!" Cassandra gasped in horror at the sight of so much slaughter. "What is happening here?!"

"No, no, no, no! Cannot be here, not here. I forgot about, never wanted to think about it again!" Sera denied erratically. The Red Jenny was only a child when the darkspawn laid waste to Denerim, and she did everything she could to forget that horrible time.

"This is the corruption Corypheus brought into the world, the destruction he wanted to create a new one." Cole whispered.

Zevran looked upon the wanton destruction with grim nostalgia. He too was witness to this invasion of evil. "Ah, the darkspawn's assault on Denerim. I remember this day all too well. It was the single greatest thing I ever did with my life. This was the day Aedan Cousland became the Hero of Ferelden."

"This is why the Wardens are always needed, yet they're always the first things forgotten. Most people never stop to think why their job is so important until the Blight is already at your doorstep." Ranier spoke out.

A terrible shrieking roar split the air and shook the ground as colored fire rained down from the sky. A powerful gust of wind sent the slain corpses flying off the ground, an immense shadow cast itself over the ground, and the darkspawn raised their weapons to roar cries of exaltation. All of them looked up and saw the epitome of destruction and chaos. Urthemiel, Old God of Beauty and Archdemon of the Fifth Blight.

To label the Archdemon as a dragon wasn't nearly strong enough to describe this monstrosity. Even Corypheus' pet dragon fell short in comparison to the malignant majesty of this ancient horror. Once worshipped as a god by the Ancient Imperium, Urthemiel was now a monstrous reflection of what he once was. Maggots seeping out from beneath its scales, devouring the rotting flesh underneath. Its jaws were filled with long, sword-like teeth that were riddled with rot and decay, with saliva and pus secreting out of its gums. The dragon's wings were massive tattered ruins of shredded flesh and membrane that overshadowed all life before it. Even in their ruined state, those terrible wings beat the air with such terrible force that they kicked up a gale that could uproot trees. The dragon spewed great black fire from its gullet that threatened to burn the world.

"So, that is the Archdemon. The monster that led the Blight." Cassandra acknowledged.

"Yes. Hard to believe my ancestors ever worshipped such a foul thing. Though I suppose that was before it was corrupted by the darkspawn taint." Dorian commented.

"Ooh! Does this mean we're going to see Aedan slay the Archdemon? That would be badass!" Iron Bull laughed with high hopes.

"No, I do not think so. Look over there" Zevran answered, pointing his finger towards a nearby clearing.

Aedan was standing in courtyard full of dead darkspawn as soldiers began filing in to make their final stand here. This would be the single greatest battle of their lives that would determine the fate and survival of their nation. This was purpose Aedan was born for, the very thing he lived for, and he was finally brought to where he belonged. On his back was that legendary sword he used to kill the Archdemon, a blade of pure starmetal that shinned like moonlight in the darkness, Starfang.

However, Aedan was not holding his legendary weapon, nor did he stand ready to march of to battle in defense of his nation and people as he had always dreamed. Instead, he stood alone, separate from the rest of his companions, his eyes not filled with anger or determination, but with sadness and loss. He stood before the only weakness a man like him could possibly have. That weakness came in the form of a young woman with raven hair and golden eyes, and she too shared in his melancholy.

"Is that...Lady Morrigan?" Cassandra realized wide-eyed.

"That filthy apostate from the Wilds? She was on of the Hero's companions?!" Vivienne asked in utter disbelief.

"Oh, she never told you? That's just classic Morrigan. Never letting anyone know her real intentions while making complete asses of themselves around her." Zevran laughed. "Yes, she was one of Aedan's companions! In fact, she was one of his first companions. The way I understand it, he and Alistair would never have survived Ostagar if it weren't for her."

A bitter scowl unconsciously gripped Vivienne's face. How could she not have known this? Why would that miserable apostate hide such an influential fact? For the life of her, she couldn't understand.

"What's wrong them? Why do they seem so sad?" Dorian asked.

"He loves her, and it hurts him. He wants her to be in his life, and cannot understand why not." Cole answered, his voice filled with the sadness Aedan was feeling.

Morrigan stood before Aedan, her face remained cold as winter, but her eyes betrayed the sadness that dwelled in her heart. "And so we go into the city together, yes? As it should be. Once it is over, I am gone. You understand this, I hope."

Aedan gently took her soft hand and pressed it to his cheek, trying to savor and remember the feeling of her touch one last time_. _"Morrigan, please. Please don't do this. We can still be together. Us and the baby. Please. I love you, Morrigan."

Morrigan's cold façade melted, revealing all the emotion she truly felt inside. The conflict of what she felt she must do against what she felt for Aedan.

"Please, don't make this more difficult for me. I want that more than anything, to have a life with you, but it can't be. Accepting it would make things so much easier." Morrigan begged on the verge of tears. She looked into Aedan's eyes and could see that there was truly no way to convince him to give up on her. "Allow me to say this before we go. I was….I was foolish. I knew what I had to do, yet I cannot regret ever meeting you. I cannot regret loving you. Aedan, please, understand that this brings me no joy. And no matter what happens after today, I will always love you."

Aedan pressed her warm hand to his face as bitter tears finally broke from his eyes and wet her hand. "When my family was killed, I thought all the love I had in my heart died with them. Then you brought my heart back to life. All the tears I have left in me in, I shed for you. I will always hold you in my heart, Mo Siuile Orge Whurnin."

"What did he call her?" Cassandra asked curiously.

"It was his pet name for Morrigan." Zevran answered in an unusually somber tone. "It means _'My Golden-Eyed Darling'_ in the Alamarri tongue. While she always made it difficult for others to feel the same way, Morrigan was beyond precious to Aedan."

"I...I never knew the Hero of Ferelden had such a romantic side to him." Cassandra confessed.

"Seeker, it's a fact that every great hero in history has a romantic side. Every one of 'em." Varric stated as fact.

"Oh, yes, Aedan most certainly does have a romantic side. It's just hard to see with his violent and angry side usually covering it up." Zevran went on. "There was something about Morrigan that calmed Aedan's spirit. Like he could feel something more than just bitter anger when he was around her. Like his parents, she loved him and he loved her, despite all their faults. Who else in all of Thedas could love a monster like Aedan Cousland?"

"If she loved him so much, why did she leave him? I mean, thats what happened here, right?" Sera asked.

"I do not know, nor is it my business to know." Zevran answered. "Morrigan's reasons were her own, and Aedan honored them, even though I know it broke his heart to do so. I know Aedan found Morrigan eventually. He was never one to lose what he loved so much."

"Hold a moment, did Aedan mention a baby?" Dorian recalled. "Morrigan must have been pregnant at this very moment. And the Blight was twelve years ago. That means Lady Morrigan's son, Kieran...Aedan Cousland is the boy's father!"

Zevran shook his head, unable to believe his pointed ears. "None of you were aware of this? Seriously?! I mean, even I knew this, and I'm just a guy who kills people for a living! Well, I suppose Morrigan wouldn't go around announcing to the world that her little boy is the Hero of Ferelden's son. Who knows what kind of trouble that might bring him."

"Huh. So, that curious little lad back at Skyhold is Aedan Cousland's little boy." Ranier affirmed before turning his attention to Vivienne. "As I recall, Madam de Fer, you have, on a number of occasions, said some less than pleasant things about both Morrigan and her son. How foolish you must feel now, knowing that she's the lover of a very powerful lord and the mother of his son."

"Your attempts to ruffle my feathers would almost be slightly amusing if they weren't so sad, Ranier." Vivienne retorted disinterestedly.

"You actually...?! Well, Lady Vivienne, if Aedan hasn't found out about this, I'd make sure he never does." Zevran warned the Orlesian mage. "I once watched Aedan break a man's face because he made a tasteless joke about his mama. I dread to think what he'll do to you if he learns you insulted the love of his life, and his son."

As some of the others teased Vivienne, Cassandra began to realize that there was more to Aedan Cousland than just his bad temper, ultra-nationalism, and heretical atheism. He was a man of fierce passions, who valued the content of character more than superficial differences. When he hated, it's to the death, and it's the same when he loves. Whether it's his country, his comrades, or the only woman in Thedas to truly see the depths of his heart.

**A Year Later...**

Time phased forward once again, after Aedan's victory over the Blight. They found themselves at yet another castle, but none that any of them recognized. Like many of Ferelden's castles, it looked like a converted fortress, built during the time when Ferelden was not a kingdom but a land of warring Arls and Teyrns. This fortress, however, looked like it had seen better days. The keep look like it had recently been under siege and took a terrible beating from whatever enemy invaded this place.

"This must be Vigil's Keep in Amarathine, then." Ranier confirmed. "The former land and holding of Arl Howe, given to the Order after the Blight. The Hero of Ferelden was tasked with rebuilding the Grey Wardens here."

"A kingly gift, but we've seen the consequences of what happens when you give this shady Order too much power." Vivienne condescendingly referred to the events at Adamant fortress.

"Did you forget the destruction we saw Denerim, Lady Vivienne?" Ranier balked defensively. "The whole purpose of having Wardens is to ensure that carnage like that doesn't happen. To paraphrase an old quote of yours, _'when a horde of darkspawn appear at your doorstep, suddenly the world has too few Warden'_."

Masons were hard at work repairing the damage to the fortress, craftsman were pushing themselves to their limits at the forges and alchemy labs while green recruits were being outfitted for equipment and sent off to run drills. It quickly became apparent that the people of this keep were preparing for battle, and they were in a hurry. Like they enemy could show up at any moment. However, it didn't look like this castle had enough soldiers to man it, and they walls didn't look ready to withstand a strong assault.

Standing in the courtyard, looking over the necessary repairs and training was the master of this fortress, Aedan Cousland. The Hero of Ferelden wasn't wearing his usual black Fereldan armor, but was instead wearing heavy silverite Warden issued armor that had his rank of Warden-Commander emblazoned on his chest. These were not the companions that fought alongside Aedan during the Blight, all except one. All of them were set to their own tasks. Some were just exchanging witty banter between each other, while some of them were training, or just wanted to be left alone.

Three men encompassing the three disciplines of combat, an elven woman, and male and female dwarf both clad in heavy armor. They recognized most of these new comrades of Aedan's. There was Nathaniel Howe, scout and archer. Sigrun, former member of the Legion of the Dead. Oghren Kondrat, Aedan's companion during the Blight. Even as a memory, Oghren reeked of alcohol and body odor. Then there was the apostate Anders. Even though Varric was the only one here to have ever known him, everyone recognized the progenitor of the Mage-Templar War that set the world down a path of destruction.

The elven woman looked Dalish, judging from her facial tattoos, and they were of similar design to Junnarel's. She had a dusky complexion with sandy blonde hair and wore robes of animal furs. She also carried a staff that looked like a tree branch with its roots wrapping around a magic sphere at the top, revealing her to be a mage.

The last one was a queer-looking human, if he could be called that. He was tall and powerfully built, wearing heavy, high-quality armor and armed with a kite shield and very mean-looking spiked mace. What was so strange about him was that his skin and eyes were unnaturally pale, as if no blood flowed in his body and was now congealing into a black mass in his veins. There was a crook in his neck that shifted to the left like his spine was out of alignment, or something snapped his neck then put his head back on straight.

"I recognize some of these people. Most of them were the Grey Wardens who came to assist us against the Order at Adamant." Cassandra recalled.

"Yeah, all of them served in the Amaranthine Crisis under Aedan Cousland, back when he was promoted to Warden-Commander and tried to reestablish the Order in Ferelden." Varric added. "Blondie told me about how the horde fled north from Denerim and broke into two different tribes that began some kind of civil war with one another."

"Yeah, but who're these other two, the elf and the gross looking guy?" Iron Bull asked.

"I know who they are." Zevran answered. "Aedan told me about them once during one of our conversations. The charming elven woman is Velanna, a mage from the Dalish clans. Her clan ran afoul of humans in one of the nearby villages, and was subsequently exiled from by her Keeper when she refused to give her notions of vengeance. Others wanted what she wanted and joined her, including her younger sister, but I think she wanted to convince Velanna she was wrong. They were all killed by the darkspawn."

"That's a terrible shame. I'm sure that was a horror that was inflicted on many families in the Blight." Ranier said sympathetically. "And who's the last man here? He looks like a Warden, but there's something very strange about him."

"More so than you might think, Ser Ranier." Zevran said grimly. "To answer your question, yes and no. The man before you is the late Warden Kristoff, and current host for a Spirit of Justice."

"You mean to tell me that Aedan Cousland not only allowed one of his own Wardens to become a possessed Abomination, but he actually allied himself with it!? The man is more insane than I realized!" Vivienne shouted.

"So this is the spirit Blondie was friends with before merging with him." Varric observed. "If you were to judge this book by its cover, I guess you'd think twice before even stepping near it. I guess there must've been something good about this guy. Blondie said even Aedan considered Justice a friend."

"Hey, you guys ever notice that the Inquisitor, Champion and Hero all have a strange assortment of freaks and weirdos as friends, or is that just me?" Iron Bull pointed out.

Everyone watched curiously as Aedan stood by himself next to the nearby forge. He wasn't training or painfully dismembering someone in battle, or giving orders, like they would have expected him to. Instead, he was just standing there with his arms crossed, like he was waiting for something. Waiting _eagerly_.

"Warden-Commander! The blade you requested, it's finished!" A giddy voice called jubilantly. A bald man with a thick, knotted beard wearing a smith's apron eagerly motioned the Warden-Commander over to him. Aedan's eyes lit up as the man approached the smith's forge and looked down on the item concealed beneath the canvas like a hidden birth day present.

"I know that man. He is Master Wade of Denerim. One of the finest smiths in all Ferlden." Cassandra realized. "He is famous for his works, though he is known for being very particular about what he makes. He claims to be an artist, not a mere smith, and only works on memorable pieces. If you were to show him Bianca, Varric, he'd probably go green with envy."

"The guy must know quality when he sees it then." Varric chuckled.

"How well did the ancient dragonbone work, Master Wade?" Aedan asked with anticipation.

"Oh, the Eldest Dragonbone and materials you brought me were magnificent." Master Wade answered joyously. "It was so receptive to the enchantments, and the Avvar runes you told me to carve into the blade practically added life to the weapon. I have never seen anything like it before in my life, and am proud to have made it myself."

"You made it to specifications?" Aedan inquired.

"Down to the most minor detail." Wade assured. "This weapon was made to suit not merely your fighting style, but reflect your very abilities as a warrior. There is no other weapon like this in all of Thedas and all of history. It is the best weapon I have ever made, and adequately replace the Starfang. Take it, and use it well."

Master Wade unveiled the weapon he had created for the Hero of Ferelden's hands only. With the way these two were talking, Cassandra and the others thought it would be the most beautiful sword to ever grace the grip of a warrior's hands. Instead, what they saw was without a doubt the most gruesomely ugly and vicious brutal greatsword any of them had ever seen.

The long handle was made in the form of a bone with a skull shaped pommel. The hilt was carved into the shape of a dragon's skull with its horns curved downward towards the handle. Clenched in the dragon's maw was the most heinously cruel blade ever forged by a man's hand. It was a single edged blade with a slight curve, but the edge of the blade wasn't smooth like it should be for cutting. Instead, the blade was serrated with deep grooves that were formed like teeth along the edge of the blade, meant not for cutting, but for ripping flesh apart. Carved into the hilt and blade were ancient Avvar runes that were glowing with life, and gave the sword a demonic aura. It was the perfect weapon for a man like Aedan Cousland.

Aedan looked down on his newly forged sword with an anticipated grin on his face. "As the man who forged this weapon, what did you name, Master Wade?"

"I call it _'Vigilance'_. I know it's nightmarish, but I felt it deserved a noble name." Master Wade answered proudly as Aedan reached to pick it up. "Now, I must warn you, because of your rather specific designs, there are some, shall we say, drawbacks? Because of its serrated edge, it cannot cut very well, but will rip your enemies to shreds. And there was also an issue with the weight..."

Aedan grabbed the weapon and clenched it firmly in his grip. The weapon gave him a sense of euphoria as he held it for the first time. A demonic red aura consumed both the weapon and it wielder as the blade woke with a life of its own. The runes on the blade burned brightly and the eyes in the skull seemed to be glowing, almost as if the blade itself were alive, and hungry.

Aedan's own eyes burned with power as his Reaver powers manifested with the blade in his hands. His sinister grin grew wider as he felt the power of this weapon join with his.

"With the sword, forged from the bones and soul of the Queen of The Blackmarsh, there will be no enemy I cannot slay, and my power will dominate any foe that stands against me!"

"Man, with a sword like, I wouldn't doubt it." Iron Bull commented, seeing the power the sword possessed.

"That sword looks just like his fighting style: brutal, vicious, and meant to inspire fear." Cassandra noted, recalling how merciless Aedan fought against Rajmael and Hawke.

"Aedan told me about the Vigilance once, and only once." Said Zevran. "He told me it was the greatest weapon he ever held in his hands, surpassing even the Starfang he used to kill the Archdemon. It was a weapon he commissioned to his own specifications and was meant to be wielded only by his hands."

"What's so special about the weapon that would make the Hero so practically in love with the damned thing?" Ranier asked curiously.

"From what Aedan told me? The Vigialnce...siphons entropic energy from its victims, and Aedan in turn feeds off that entropic energy to heal the wounds he suffers to increase the power of his Reaver abilities. That's what Aedan told me." Zevran recalled.

"If that ugly thing is phwaor, what doesn't Ser-Bites-A-Lot have it with him?" Sera pointed out.

"And that's why he only told me once." Zevran sighed. "Turns out his sword was...stolen. By Antivan Crows, no less. Even after over a decade, Aedan still hates talking about it."

"General Cousland is a man of considerable means. If the sword means that much to him, why didn't he search for it?" Vivienne inquired.

"He tried. Even enlisted my help to get it back from the Crows." The former assassin assured. "Turns out, the Crows who stole it got themselves killed by other people who wanted the sword. Ever since then, all we've heard is unreliable rumors and ghost stories. Like the blade has a mind of its own, that it kills whoever wields it, that it's haunted by the soul of the dragon it was made from. Untraceable stories that lead to nowhere."

"Then perhaps it is a good thing that the Hero lost that sword." Cassandra said dourly. "We all saw what he was capable of against the Champion and the Inquisitor, and that was just with his bare hands. Maker knows what that man would be capable of if he actually had that terrible weapon in his hands."

**~XoXoXo~**

They found themselves in a nightmarish place. A wasteland of death with rotting corpses littering the ground and piled into giant mounds that had been lit on fire, filling the air with black smoke and the horrid stench of burning flash. There was evidence of the Imperium's influence here; their architecture littered the landscape in many crumbling ruins. The Tevinter ruins, however, were completely dwarfed by the literal mountains of bones that filled this place. The scariest part was that most of these of these bones weren't human: they were all the skeletal and fossilized remains of dragons.

"Man, would you look at the size of these skulls! Some of the are bigger than warships I've sailed on." Iron Bull marveled with admiration glinting in his only eye.

"Yes, Amatus, this smoldering wasteland of bones and death is certainly a charming place. Maybe we should make a summer home here. We can admire all the carrion as they come to feast on the dead carcasses." Dorian said sarcastically.

"Awww, you're the best, Kadan." Iron Bull said graciously, not registering his lover's sarcasm.

"Where in the Maker's holy name are we, Zevran?" Cassandra wondered in aghast at the mass grave before them.

"I'm Aedan's friend and occasional hitman, not his wife or journal, Seeker. I don't know everything he's done or everywhere he's been." Zevran groaned in annoyance. "But from the look of things, I'd say we're in the Dragonbone Wastes."

Dorian quirked a curious eyebrow when he heard the name of this place. "The Dragonbone Wastes? There are legends of this place back in the Imperium. A place deep in the cold wastes of the South where High Dragons would go at the end of their lives to die. I always thought it was a myth."

"Well, as you can see, Master Pavus, it most certainly isn't." Zevran confirmed.

"Yeah? Well, what the heck are we even doin' in a place this creepy?" Sera shuddered.

"What do you all know about the Amaranthine Crisis?" Zevran inquired.

"I've heard of it. A lot of the farmers and people I encountered in the wild talked about it when I was living as Blackwall." Ranier spoke out. "Supposedly, after the Blight was ended in Denerim, the Horde fled northward towards Amaranthine and fractured into two warring tribes, and some kind of darkspawn civil war broke out right in the middle of the arling. The darkspawn invaded Amaranthine City, and the Hero drove them back and hunted them down to their layer, ending the threat."

"Wow. That was pretty well said for a rookie storyteller." Varric complimented with a small applause. "Blondie told me about this mission once, and only once. That the two darkspawn factions were led by leaders, the Architect and the Mother. The Mother created a new breed of really disgusting darkspawn called the children, and both her and the Architect were capable of granting other darkspawn intelligence and speech."

"Sweet Maker, talking darkspawn!?" Cassandra said with revilement. "What monstrosities could create such things?"

"You mean there were other darkspawn more gross and creepy than the ones we've seen? Eww!" Sera groaned sickly.

"What else did your apostate friend say?" Vivienne asked curiously. "That is, if the word of a terrorist can be trusted."

"Something about the Mother having a grudge against the Architect, and the Architect wanting to free the darkspawn. I really don't know." Varric admitted honestly. "To tell the truth, Blondie neever really liked talking about his days as a Warden. Said it gave him nightmares. Something about a lot of nipples."

Before any of them could event take a moment to dread what that could possibly mean, they saw Aedan and his crew charging through the paths between the hills of bones, slaughtering any darkspawn that dared to stand in their path. It would seem they would get to watch the answer to the questions unfold right before them.

Aedan and his Grey Wardens had repelled the Mother's attack on Amaranthine and were now here to pay her back for all the pain and terror she had inflicted on the arling. Aedan had brought all his Wardens with him, an act he now regretted, now that he knew about the siege that was happening at Vigil's Keep right now. He couldn't let himself think about it now, he had to focus on the mission. The best thing he could do to help his men back at Vigil's Keep was slay the Mother, and have faith in the fortress he built.

All of them watched as all these Wardens unleashed their anger against their hated enemies. Each of them a venerable army unto themselves. Oghren and Justice cut down scores of them with their respective sword and hammer. Oghren had been fighting the wretched 'spawn since his youth, none here knew how to fight them better than him. Justice was a warrior-spirit, a being of the Fade that reflected righteous retribution against the wicked and unjust, he would not falter against these creatures whose very existence exhumed evil.

Velanna and Anders were mages from almost literally two different worlds, but they set their differences aside to accomplish their goal here. Anders used his healing magic and protective spells from the Spirit School to keep his comrades from harm. He would repay the Warden-Commander for saving him from Rylock and her Templars, for giving him his freedom. Velanna unleashed two-thousand years of elven resentment and abuse on the darkspawn with her primal Dalish magic. There was no fear in this elf's heart, only hatred for what the darkspawn did to her. She would kill them all and find out what happened to her sister.

Sigrun gripped her hatchet and dirk tightly and dashed between the darkspawn with such speed it was like she was wearing silk instead of plate-mail. She darted past each genlock and Hurlock before they could even touch her, severing their arteries and cleaving their bones, laughing as she went. Sigrun, just loved her job. While his companions were engaging the darkspawn in close quarters, Nathaniel found the perfect vantage point on one of the massive mounds of bones inside the mouth of a dragon's skull. From here, the former nobleman could see the entire battlefield, but no one could get to him. Nathaniel unleashed a hail of arrows from the Howe Ancestral Bow with devastating accuracy, each arrow finding its mark in a darkspawn eye, heart and liver. These vile beasts tried to destroy the city his family spent centuries protecting, now he would destroy the darkspawn in their own lair.

Cassandra and the others watched as Aedan unleashed his fury on the monsters who threatened his homeland. They watched as he wielded the Vigilance like it was an extension of his own arm. With that gruesome blade in hand, Aedan cleaved through scores of darkspawn and ripped them to shreds. The more blood the sword drank, the more alive it seemed to become. The injuries he sustained from the darkspawn's crude weapons only served to increase Aedan's power, and when his sword tasted blood, the entropic energies it fed on healed Aedan before he became too badly injured. With the Vigilance in hand, Aedan was nigh invincible.

The constitution of the Inquisitor's companions was put to the test when they saw the true monstrosities that dwelled within this wasteland. The Mother's Children. They spewed forth from giant gestation pods like man-sized maggots from a dead carcass. Giant, grotesque grubs covered in tainted black slime with humanoid faces that opened up into rows of poisonous teeth. Some quickly sprouted spider-like legs and leapt at the invading Warden, spewing poisonous slime at their enemies.

Aedan and his Wardens squashed the children like the bugs they were. Cutting them down, riddling them with arrows and roasting them with fire. These vile monstrosities would not stand in their way. They would eradicate every one of these sins against nature, and their Mother would spawn no more after today.

The Hero and comrades pressed to the Tevinter ruin in the middle of the Dragonbone Wastes, killing any and ever monster sorry enough to stand in their way. As they pressed in, Cassandra and the other witnessed a reunion occur within this memory. Not long after they broke into the ancient ruin, a strange figure emerged from the darkness. A young Dalish woman, with severe signs of the taint on her body. Dark blotches, milky eyes and brittle hair. It was a wonder she wasn't a mindless ghoul.

"I am glad to see that you are well, Sister." The younger elven woman announced, catching Aedan and the others off guard.

Velanna gasped in relief and horror at the sight of her sister and what had become of her. "Seranni! Oh, thank Mythal you're alive. What has the Architect done to you? Why are you with him?"

"The Architect is kind to me, and tender, and he has told me of his pain, his plan." Seranni whispered almost affectionately. "Velanna, the darkspawn are just like us."

"If I were an elf, I would take serious offense to that comparison, child." Aedan interrupted sardonically.

"Yeah, elves are infinitely better looking." Anders joked.

"And they smell better." Sigrun added. "Like trees and sunlight, and fresh air."

"Last I heard, the elves didn't wipe out most of the dwarven empire." Oghren huffed.

"I fail to see how these wretched creatures have anything in common with any mortal race." Justice stated shaking his head.

"Do you even realize what you're saying?" Nathaniel asked disbelievingly.

"The Architect has freed his people." Seranni declared. "They're searching for a place in this world, a place where they can live in peace, just like the Dalish. Everything he's done, he did it to help his people. You can respect that, can't you sister?"

"This is lunacy! The darkspawn are a cancer, a living disease to be wiped out! They are not a _people_!" Aedan rejected with hateful disgust.

"That is no longer true!" Seranni defended.

"Seranni, they killed our friends, and so many others. Don't you remember?" Velanna beseeched her sister.

"I do, and that is exactly why I must help them." Seranni confessed. "They are like children, come into the world with no understanding of what is good and fair. They have a bestial nature, but I have seen them overcome it They just need to be shown how."

Aedan gritted his teeth furiously, he refused to listen to any more of this insanity. "Enough of this bullshit! Because you're Velanna's sister, I'm going to give you a choice, which is more than what most people get from me: you can walk away and forget this madness, or you can stay here and die with the darkspawn who have brought ruin to my country!"

"No, stop! You can't!" Velanna shouted, getting between her sister and her Commander.

Seranni took the opportunity to run back into the shadows, leaving he sister behind. Desperately shouting her pleas for understanding. "You don't have to do this! There can be peace between our races. Think about what I said, please!"

Aedan could see that what Seranni said had some effect on her sister. That killer instinct that dwelled in her eyes didn't shine as brightly, and that concerned him.

"Velanna, wake up! We still have a job to do, and I don't want your sister's idiocy interfering with our duty." Aedan ordered.

"I know what I'm here for, Commander." Vellana assured vehemently. The exiled Dalish elf looked back one last time in the vain hope of seeing her sister there, only to find nothing but shadows.

After their encounter with Seranni, Aedan did what he had done best for the past two years: leading highly skilled individuals into the jaws of death and horror where even the Maker and all other gods dared not tread. The darkspawn and the Children didn't stand a chance. Not when Aedan held that sword in his hands and it fueled his powers and healed his wounds. His companions followed his lead and obeyed his orders, and in doing so, they all left a trail of carnage in their wake. Cassandra and the others watched in a strange sense of awe as Aedan devastated the enemies of all Thedas.

As they delved deeper into the ruins, all the Wardens felt a strange presence approach them, and held their ground, ready for battle.

"He's here. Another of the Awoken." Cole whispered fearfully.

"And so we meet again, Warden-Commander." A strange, hollow-sounding voice greeted.

Cassandra and the others looked up in horror at a nearby balcony to see a creature of unnatural ghastliness approach the intruders. It was twice as tall as any human any of them had ever seen, with long skeletal arms and large, demonic claw-like hands attached to them. Its face was unlike any darkspawn any of them had ever seen. It was almost human, with a long gaunt face, and a sharp nose over thin lips. It's head was crested with a strange chitin-like shell that intricately intertwined atop its head, making it look like it was wearing a holy man's miter. Its scawny body was garbed in an old robe with faded, drab colors and golf embroideries intertwining on the chest and feathered pauldrons. And covering its face was a richly embroided Orlesian-style mask resting over its eyes, as if it wanted to hide its ugliness. It was almost as if the creature wanted to appear civilized.

Standing next to the queer darkspawn was a dwarven warrior in heavy plate-mail that was of unmistakable Smith Caste make. It was nearly impossible to tell that the dwarven warrior was a woman because of how thick the taint was on her skin. She was practically a ghoul in appearance.

"Merciful Andraste..." Cassandra gasped in horrified realization. "That creature, it looks...just like Corypheus!"

"Ah, so that's the Architect." Zevran realized grimly. "Aedan described it to me once, but I never realized just how hideous the damned thing was."

The dwarven warrior silently went for her weapon and prepared to engage in battle with Aedan and the others.

"No, Utha. That is not how we should begin." The Architect bade. A strange magical energy burned in the creature's hands and floated down to talk with Aedan face to face. "I owe you an apology, Commander. When last we met I intended to explain myself. Fate, however, intervened."

"Oh, that's bullshit!" Aedan spat angrily. "I escaped your putrid dungeon after you captured us, experimented us in our sleep, and stole our stuff!"

"I restrained only to prevent the misunderstand...that occurred with the rest of your Order." The Architect explained.

"Yeah, the kind of _misunderstanding_ that ends in a field of dead bodies. Uh-huh. I get those sometimes." Oghren commented sarcastically.

"Oh, well, when you put it that way, I guess it was all just an honest mistake. I'm sure all the people you killed will understand." Anders said with more contempt than sarcasm.

"Of course they saw it as an attack, shit-for-brains! Darkspawn aren't exactly known for approaching people's doorsteps to sell cookies!" Sigrun mocked with detest.

"You show up with an army and ogres and weapons drawn, how else do you think rational people are going to react?" Nathaniel asked rhetorically.

"This creature confesses to the slaughter its minions committed under its orders. It must be slain for its crimes!" Justice stated righteously.

"I sent the Withered to ask for the Grey Wardens' help. I should have anticipated that our approach would have been viewed as an attack." The Architect informed sympathetically. "I am rarely able to judge how your kind will react. It was most unfortunate."

"Unfortunate!? You took the Grey Wardens posted there and bleed them dry in your dungeons!" Aedan spat hatefully.

"They Grey Wardens brought to me were already dead." The Architect defended.

"Dead because of you!"

"Yes, but I still needed their help. I took their blood, just as I took yours because I had little choice. Things...have not gone as planned." The Architect said morosely. "I only ask that you hear me out, Commander. If you wish to slay me afterwards, you may try."

Aedan laughed at the creature as if it just told him a hilarious joke. Oghren also started laughing, but most of them, especially the Architect, failed to get the joke. Aedan never had to _try_ to kill anything. _Trying_ implies the possibility of failure.

"Tell you what, creature: I'm a little tired from killing all the darkspawn here and back at Amaranthine. I'll take a short break and let you explain yourself, before I rip your fucking head off."

The Architect ignored Aedan's threat and proceeded to explain itself. "My kind has ever been driven to seek out the Old Gods. This our nature. When we succeed, a Blight begins. Each time, we invade your surface and you fight back until we are defeated. To break the cycle, my brethren must be freed of their compulsion. For that, I need Grey Warden blood."

"Urge to decapitate: rising." Aedan warned seriously. "Aside from your naturally wretched inclinations, what could you possibly need Grey Warden blood for?"

"For the same purpose you need our kinds blood." The Architect answered. "In order to become what you are, you take the taint of my kind into yourselves, in order to transform from the rest of your kind. Similarly, my kind must transform from the rest of ours. I have created a version of your Joining ritual using Grey Warden blood. You take the taint into yourself, what we take is your resistance. That is how my kind our freed. In your blood, lies the key to their immunity from the Call of the Old Gods "

"I like my blood right where it is. In my veins, where it belongs." Anders commented disdainfully.

"The darkspawn can't do anything that isn't gross." Sigrun groaned.

"The Wardens are supposed to stop the Blights, no matter the cost. And this cost doesn't sound too bad. We'll be retired and talkin' about our glory days over ale in no time!" Oghren suggested loudly.

"If it can stop the Blights, isn't a little blood worth it? This is the opportunity my sister saw!" Velanna urged.

"Hold a moment, if this is true, how did you get darkspawn blood in the first place?" Nathaniel inquired.

The Architect directed their attention upwards towards his dwarven companion, who gave a respectful bow. "The first blood came from Utha, freely given. She was a Grey Warden, as you are, and joined us many years ago."

"Now let me guess, this is the part where you tell me that there's a problem with your precious plans." Aedan guessed sardonically.

"Once they are freed, the darkspawn think for themselves. They speak, they act. Some, however, have reacted poorly." The Archited said grimly, finally getting to the heart of the matter. "They are flawed, and they rage against me. The Mother gathers them to stop me. She created the Children to destroy both our kinds. I cannot defeat the Mother on my own, and I cannot defeat the darkspawn on my own unless she is defeated. Our goals are the same, Warden-Commander."

"Really? To me, it sounds more like you want me to clean up the mess you made of your unnatural experiments." Aedan snorted. "Just what the fuck is the Mother, anyway?"

"My most flawed creation." The Architect lamented woefully. "Freedom drove her mad. Now she poisons the minds of the others. She has influence over those who have not been freed, and gathers them as an army. She seeks my death as well as the deaths of your kind. I do not seek to rule my brethren, I only seek to free them from their chains."

"And just what the fuck are you? How is it you do not adhere the Calling? How is it you can speak, wield magic the way you do?" Aedan asked, eager to know what kind of monster he was dealing with.

"I was born as I am, an outsider amongst my kind. Why? I do not know." The Architect stated with melancholy.. "How is it some of your kind are able to become Wardens and others are not? Why are some of you born with magic? I have no real answers."

"And let's say I help you, then what? What happens when you've taken control over the rest of your kind after the Mother is slain?" Aedan demanded.

"I will take my brethren and return to the Deep Roads, where we will be of no harm to your kind. And I will continue my experiments, to try and free my brethren from their chains." The Architect answered truthfully. "I do not seek war with your kind, Commander. I seek peace. I want to free my brethren from the Call of the Old Gods so that we will never have to wage war with the surface world again."

"You can't be serious. Please tell me you're not taking this seriously, Commander." Sigrun bade. "This reeks of utter stupidity. The last thing we need is more darkspawn thinking for themselves."

"I don't know, hot stuff. Might be worth thinkin' over." Oghren interjected. "If darkspawn are too busy playing with their newfound brains, maybe they'll finally leave Orzammar the sod alone."

"This is what my sister saw! An ally, amongst the darkspawn! This is opportunity we cannot pass up!" Velanna all but shouted in her Commander's ear.

"No, this is absolutely out of the question!" Justice rejected ardently. "These monsters are responsible for more death and horror than other creature in existence. Remember your cause and do not falter. Slay it now!"

"Darkspawn or no, the Architect has a point." Nathaniel spoke out. "Do we really want to keep killing each other until there's no one left? Who's to say the Grey Wardens will succeed next time a Blight occurs? If what we do now saves millions later, isn't this alliance worth it? After what just happened in Amaranthine, is not worth considering?"

"And who's to say these new thinking darkspawn won't be as dangerous as the Archdemons?" Anders argued. "We're playing with fire here, and we're the ones who risk getting burned the worst."

Aedan paused for a moment, looking like he was considering the options before him. "So, let me see if I've got this straight: I help you destroy your own creation, a monster who is a threat to us both, then you will leave, with your Awakened brethren, and not trouble us? I scratch your back, you scratch mine?"

"Yes, that is precisely what I mean. There will be no need for any more bloodshed between my brethren and yours." The Architect answered with a glimmer of hope in his strange voice. "Will you help me?"

_**"FUCK NO!" **_Aedan shouted with livid outrage.

Everyone was taken back by the Commander's rage, some were glad for it.

"Now, that's the Aedan I know!" Zevran laughed loudly.

"I knew you wouldn't do something so stupid." Sigrun smiled.

"This is as it should be. The righteous cannot stand alongside villainy." Justice affirmed.

"Oh, good. Because I want absolutely nothing to do with darkspawn and blood ever again." Anders sighed with relief.

"No, no! The Architect is a visionary. Do not be foolish!" Velanna insisted desperately.

"But we could end the Blights from ever happening again!" Nathaniel admonished.

"It does sound like we're missing out on an opportunity here, Aedan, but who am I to say no to a little murder?" Oghren chuckled reaching for his warhammer.

The Architect lowered his head and shook it sadly. It did not want things to go this way. "How very unfortunate, Warden-Commander, but I cannot blame you. You are as bound to your nature as we are by ours..."

"Do not compare your putrid, disgusting race to me, you rancid piece of shit!" Aedan growled hatefully. "It's not my nature that compels me, it's my duty. Look at you! You're a walking plague of pestilence and disease! Your very existence is a sin against nature, and you defile everything you touch! You said so yourself that the Mother is one of your creations. Anything capable of creating such a monstrosity can only bring death and horror to the world. So I'm going to do the world a favor and slaughter you like the freak of nature that you are, then I'm going to do the same thing to the Mother. Neither of you will every threaten my country ever again."

The Architect looked up to Utha with deep sadness on his face and in his voice. "I am sorry, Utha. It appears that I won't be able to keep my promise after all."

The dwarven ghoul drew her sword and silently ran as fast as she could to her leader's aid.

"You will have to forgive me, Commander, for fighting to preserve my destiny."

"Your destiny, freak, is death at my hands." Aedan smiled sinisterly, his eyes and the Vigilance glowing red. "And on behalf of my brethren, who you killed and experimented on, I will enjoy killing you."

Utha and the Architect attacked all the Wardens. Aedan and his comrades, even the reluctant Velanna, engaged their sworn enemy.

Cassandra watched as the battle unfolded before them like an intense play. The power the Architect wielded was beyond incredible. Whatever magic he possessed, it was beyond the level of any mage they had encountered outside of Corypheus. With a mere flick of his claw, the very ground around them erupted in flames as balls of fire rained down from the ceiling with enough heat to smote a volcano. When Aedan and the others moved for cover from the flames, the Architect used a telekinetic blast to knock them of their feet and expose them to the fire.

Utha was no push-over, either. Her technique was flawless and powerful, attained from a lifetime of arduous training and discipline. Her style was that of the Silent Sisters of Orzammar, a mix of speed and power, and her stature made it difficult for the others to hit her. Her weapon was two metal rods held together by a metal chain. With silent precision and devastating power, Utha dashed between her former brethren with her chained club and used it to smash their joints and break their armor.

Any lesser enemies would have been quickly killed by these two powerful enemies, but they were not fighting against lesser combatants. These were Wardens chosen and led by Aedan Cousland himself. They saved Amaranthine and broke a siege of darkspawn with only a handful of guards and conscripted peasants. They didn't overcome all that and delve into the Blight-ridden hole just to fall to these tainted fanatics. They would not fall.

Utha may have been a Silent Sister and a Grey Warden once, she might have been a hardcore fighter her whole life, but Sigrun grew up in the pits of Dust Town. Her first fight to the death was against three full-grown thugs over moldy loaf of bread when she was six. And in all the time she had spent in Dust Town, the Carta and the Legion of the Dead, there was one thing she learned how to do better than anyone else: how to fight dirty.

Sigrun brought her hatchet down on the traitorous Warden, Utha blocked and locked the axe with the chain between her metal rods. With her weapon caught, and the two of them so close together, Sigrun found her opportunity. Sigrun hawked in her throat and spat a lugi in Utha's eye, blinding her. In that brief moment of distractions, Sigrun quickly slashed her dirk across Utha's throat. Utha's tainted blood sprayed from her wound and gurgled from her mouth, and the traitorous Warden fell to the ground dead.

They couldn't let the Architect control this battle, nor could they afford to let this fight linger on when they still had the Mother to contend with. It was time to end this. Justice used his connection to the Fade as a Spirit Warrior to unleash a burst of spirit energy from his own being. The blast of spirit energy disrupted the Architect's magical energy for the briefest of moments, and that was all the time they needed.

Anders conjured the most powerful paralysis glyph he could summon beneath the Architect's feet, freezing him in place. Velanna used her Dalish magic to unleash Nature's Vengeance and summoned massive roots from the roof and ceiling to capture the Architect and pierce its body with spear-like thorns. While the mages captured the Architect, Nathaniel used his ancestral bow to loose a rain of arrows down on the the creature, hitting all the vital areas. Oghren came in from behind and smashed every bone in the Architect's torso with his warhammer. The Architect cried out in pain and black blood spurted from its mouth.

Aedan approached the bound and broken darkspawn mutant, himself and his sword cloaked in that demonic red aura. Aedan held the Vigilance ready and prepared to execute the wretched monstrosity.

"Commander...please." The Architect pleaded pitifully, blood dripping from his mouth.

"There can be no pity for a freak like you." Aedan growled hatefully. He gripped the Vigilance tightly in hand and carried out his duty, by slowly, very slowly, sawing off the Architect's head off with the serrated edge of his sword.

Velanna shook her head angrily as a sense of loss, bitterness and that all too familiar feeling of rage consumed as she watched her Commander murder not only the best chance they had of finally being rid of the Blights, but the only chance she would have had for finding her sister.

"How could you? How could you be so blind!?" Velanna screamed at her Commander. "The Architect was our best chance to stop the Blights. Of getting my sister back!"

"We could have stopped the Blights before they ever became a threat again. Why waste this opportunity?" Nathaniel questioned indignantly.

Aedan glared back at his two subordinates with an angry gleam in his eyes and the Architect's blood on his face. "You two really want to talk to me like that when I've got a sword in my hands after viciously murdering something?" Aedan wiped the blood off his face and looked at his two Wardens with a deathly seriousness. "Now, I'm only going to say this once, so you two had better listen: Our job, our sworn duty is to fight our enemy, hold the line and man our post. Not search for an easier way out or exploit some scheme to outsmart the Blight by making deals with our enemies. Once you start compromising your duty, giving up what you swore to do for the sake of convenience or ease, that's when you've failed and corruption truly begins to set in your heart. Just like with Loghain."

"And what about my sister?!" Velanna demanded angrily.

"What happened to your sister and clanmates is tragic, Velanna. I know what it's like to lose family, and there's nothing worse." Aedan said genuinely sympathetic. "However, your sister chose to be counted amongst the enemies of all Thedas, including your people. And I have more important things to worry about than one misguided elf who's bought into the lunacy of some monster that thought it was some kind of savior. For all I know, the Architect might have been responsible for the Blight!"

"Aedan, I don't mean to interrupt your chew-out session, but we got a date with the Mother. And I'd rather be back at the tavern sooner rather than later." Oghren called out.

"I haven't forgotten, and neither should either of you." Aedan glared at Nathaniel and Velanna.

Nathaniel felt a sense of shame come over him. As much as he hated to admit it, the Commander was right. The entire reason why his house fell was because his father kept making underhanded deals, kept doing whatever it took to achieve his goal, no matter how selfish, instead of remembering what his true duty was. Nathaniel would not make the same mistake.

Before pressing on, Aedan ransacked the Architect's headless corpse, never minding all the blood and disease-ridden flesh. In the tattered robes of the slain monster, Aedan found two items of particular interest to him.

"Find something interesting, Commander?" Sigrun observed.

"Some kind of journal...and a strange amulet. Tevinter by the looks of it." Aedan answered showing it to his comrades.

"Let me see that." Anders requested, taking a closer look at the rare piece of jewelry the Architect once had. "Oh, this is definitely ancient. Pre-Andraste, at least. Possibly from before the First Blight. Why would a darkspawn emissary on the opposite side of Thedas have such a thing?"

"Another matter for another time. Velanna? Burn this things corpse." Aedan ordered.

"What?" Velanna questioned incredulously.

"I said burn that wretched thing." Aedan repeated deliberately. "That was an order, not a suggestion, Warden Velanna."

Velanna cursed under her breath in elven and contemptuously did as she was ordered. She stood over the Architect's corpse and begrudgingly used her magic to set it aflame. As she burned the Architect's body, she also burned any chance she might have had of finding her sister again.

"Now that we've taken care of that, let's go see what kind of bitch this Mother is, and slaughter her, too." Aedan ordered, stuffing the journal and amulet in his satchel.

As Aedan and his Wardens marched on towards their final battle in this place, Cassandra and the others tried to comprehend what they had just witnessed. Just what kind of monsters his in this world.

"What in the Maker's name was that thing?" Cassandra asked aghast. "That was no mere darkspawn Emissary. It was almost exactly like Corypheus!"

"Blondie used to tell stories about talking darkspawn back at the Hanged Man. Before I actually saw Corypheus for the first time, I thought he was just spinning yarns to make the drunks piss themselves. Now that I know there are things out there that are worse than just regular darkspawn, I wish he was." Varric shuddered.

"If that thing was anything like Corypheus, then it's blessing that the Hero killed it." Ranier said approvingly.

"It_ was_ just like Corypheus." Cole spoke out cryptically. "Like Corypheus, it was lost, confused, wandering and searching for a thousand years, looking for a purpose. It couldn't remember what made it what it was, the trespass he and the others committed. All it could remember was that it was the Architect."

"I know that amulet that..." Dorian stated in disbelief. "Two years ago, the Inquisitor had me research into the genealogy and records of the High Priests to the Old Gods. He gave me two amulets to start my search. One he received from the Champion of Kirkwall, and the other he received from the Hero of Ferelden, both taken off of incredibly powerful and intelligent darkspawn. The amulet the Hero here discovered belonged to the head priest of a cult called the Builders called the Architect of All Thing Beautiful, the head priest to the Old God Urthemiel. The one the Champion discovered belonged to a head priest called the Conductor of Silence, head priest to Dumat."

"That cannot be a coincidence. That must mean that this Architect was one of the Magisters who invaded the Golden City, just like Corypheus." Vivienne concluded.

"How batty do ya gotta be to look at somethin' like that and says, _'yeah, I wanna help that thing that fucked up the world'_." Sera asked unable to comprehend Velanna, Nathaniel and Utha's thoughts to join the Architect.

"Take it easy, Sera. Don't forget, these guys have to live with this kind of horror every day and night, no rest, no retirement, and no appreciation. Sometimes, looking for the easy way out seems a lot better than having to go through a life of shit." Ranier informed sympathetically.

"Yeah, trust me when I say that every sorry duster and his mother back in Orzammar would probably give up their own lives just for a chance at not being under threat of the darkspawn and not be on the brink of extinction every day." Varric added.

"I witnessed the Blight first hand with Aedan back in Fereldan. I saw the horror these things inflict on people, the evil they poison the world with." Zevran recollected with sour look on his face. "During the Fourth Blight, Antiva was almost completely destroyed by these creatures. I can understand anyone's desire to wish to do anything to stop this nightmare from ever happening again. But Aedan did what he felt was right, he always does."

"Hey, maybe we should keep following them, and see how this story ends?" Iron Bull suggested, pointing after the Wardens.

Taking Iron Bull's advice and followed the Wardens and the trail of dead darkspawn they left behind down further into the vile, tainted ruins. The further they delved, the more gestation pods they discovered, and the vile Children darkspawn emerged from the slimy, rotting ruins. This was no mere base, as they knew it. This was a breeding ground, where the Mother and her Awoken darkspawn allowed these vile monstrosities to grow and mature. Aedan and his Wardens left none alive as they roved their way past them like an angry death squad.

They finally reached the very bowls of the Dragon Bone Wastes. It was godforsaken put of putrid filth and rotting flesh. Even as a memory, the very smell of this place was enough to turn even the strongest stomach, it was thick with the smell of rotting meat and the taint. All around them were those vile gestation pods with the Children growing and writhing inside them like maggots inside a dead carcass. It was like one of Cassandra's worst nightmares come to life.

When they saw what Aedan and his Wardens were up against, their hearts practically stopped inside their chests. The very creature responsible for so much devastation and horror, the Mother in all her malignant despicability. It was a horror unlike any of them had ever seen. It surpassed even Corypheus in being so horribly grotesque.

Cassandra and the others couldn't believe what had just transpired right before their very eyes. It was a grotesque mass of pale, diseased flesh covered in weeping sores and blistering boils stacked on top of itself like a hill of rot. Slithering from bloated mound of flesh were massive tentacles, dripping with black ichor thick with the taint, and beneath their lethargy were muscles powerful enough to shame a kraken. Writhing beneath the wretched flesh were future generations of darkspawn, all thrashing and squirming, eager to enter the world and spread their taint. This was no mere slab of flesh and fat line an engorged giant, but a massive womb of unholy portions filled to the brim for an unholy purpose.

Resting atop this foul hill of flesh filled with unborn darkspawn was the torso of a woman. Whatever beauty she might have had once was now replaced by the freakish mutations of the taint. Her clawed arms and slicked hair were painted black with the Blight, and it oozed from her black lips and red eyes that were filled with insane malice. Protruding from her back were spider-like legs so sharp they tore at her own flesh. And trailing down from her bare, naked chest was trail of breasts that grew more monstrous and vile as the led down her hideous body. The many teats she possessed were filled with what fueled the darkspawn: the taint, hatred and evil. This creature was the most foul offense against all creation. This was The Mother.

All of them, memories and viewers alike, even the mighty Aedan Cousland was appalled by such a nightmarish horror. Justice and Aedan held their weapons ready while Anders looked as if he was going to vomit. Sigrun tried to block out the smell from fouling her lungs and choke her out. Nathaniel and Velanna both called upon the strength and mercy of their respective gods to aid them against this monster. Oghren merely commented on the vast amount of nipples this creature possessed.

"And so, at long last, the great Hero has come to visit me in my parlor. I see you are at a loss for words. Does my image leave your tongue tied? Am I not beautiful!?" The Mother cackled insanely at the intruders.

This was more than some of them could bare. They could not stomach to look upon this heinous memory any longer.

"Blessed are those who stand against the darkness and do not falter." Cassandra whispered in horror.

"What manner of horror is this?!" Vivienne gagged behind her handkerchief.

"I think I've permanently lost my appetite." Zevran groaned in disgust.

"Now that's fucked up!" Iron Bull cursed.

"No, no! NO!" Sera screeched, covering her eyes as if she could block out the horror before them. "I'm not seeing this! I don't want see any more. Make it stop!"

**~XoXoXo~**

As if the memories adhered to Sera's desperate cries, the images of this terrifying memory disappeared, leaving them in a world of blank light. Not even bothering with their new surrounding, everyone tried to come to grips with the horror they had witnessed. The horror Aedan was tasked to contend with.

For most of her life, Cassandra believed that out of control magic, bloodmages, corrupt Templar were the gravest of threats. Until Corypheus, she had never fully comprehended the true threat the darkspawn pose, the true evil that they are. Not all that long ago, she wished that Rajmael had banished all the Grey Wardens out of Orlais. Seeing what those brave men and women must fight against made her realize what a fool she was.

"Is it over? Please, for the love of Andraste's tits, tell me it's over!" Sera cried hysterically.

"Take it easy, Buttercup. It's over. I don't know what happened back there, but it's over." Varric said trying to calm the Red Jenny down. He too was deeply disturbed by what they saw. "Holy shit, that was a lot of nipples!"

"If such things like that exist, then perhaps the Wardens serve a purpose after all." Vivienne admitted contentiously.

"There was so much hatred inside it. Hatred for the Architect, for the world, for itself. The Mother wanted to destroy everything, anything to hear the Call again." Cole shuddered

Ranier remained calm, but was just as disturbed as the rest. "And you'd better remember that, Vivienne. This is the reality Wardens live in every day. While the rest of us get to bask in the sun, sleep in a bed, enjoy simple companionship of other people, the Wardens are down underground fighting horrors like that so we can enjoy those pleasures. No reprieve, no benefits, and no appreciation. They live and die in pain so the rest us of don't have to."

"That...thing was a human woman, once. It was someone's daughter, could have been someone's mother." Cassandra uttered shakily. "Maker, I never realized just what it is the Grey Wardens truly face. Compared to that, runaway and rogue Templars seem like a small matter."

"Regardless, when this is all over, I'm going to deal with this the same way I'm going to deal with witnessing the Hero's cannibalism: with lots and lots of alcohol." Dorian proclaimed.

"I second that motion." Iron Bull agreed.

"I don't think even every drop in the Inquisitor's liquor cabinet is enough to forget all this shit, but that doesn't men I'm not willing to try." Varric declared.

"So far, I've yet to find any problem that is solved, or started, by the right amount of alcohol." Zevran chuckled.

**~XoXoXo~**

Their hopes that they were done with Aedan's memories were crushed when they found themselves on the scene of yet another one. When would these trail of events cease? They weren't sure they could handle any more of the Hero's horrific life. They didn't even know how the hell Aedan was able to put up with it. No wonder he was so pissed off all the time.

Instead of finding themselves in some nightmarish monster lair deep underground, they found themselves back at Vigil's Keep. There were obvious signs of battle, battered and burned walls, but repairs were quickly being made to the now legendary fort. This must have been after the Mother's army assaulted the Keep and after Aedan killed the wretched thing. This was no battle, but a gathering of cheering crowds all gathered to celebrate the men and women who defended the arling from the darkspawn.

Aedan stood in the center of the jubilant crowd, surrounded by his Wardens, and strangely enough, had a proud smile on his face.

"We gather here today to repair the damage that has been done, to rebuild what we have lost, and to remember those who died giving their lives so that others might live." Aedan announced respectfully. "And we're also here to honor those who stood brave and valiant against the darkspawn horde that assaulted us. Amongst these brave souls, there is one who deserves particular attention. Private Alec, please step forward."

"Hey, I remember that guy." Iron Bull stated. "He was one of the Knights of the Silver Order the Hero brought with him."

"More specifically, Iron Bull, that's the current Lord-Commander of the Silver Order." Vivienne corrected.

Alec approached the Warden-Commander, bashfully lowering his head. He was not used to being the center of so much attention, but was infinitely proud to be standing here.

Aedan looked on the former sheepherder with pride. "When you first came to me, you were charged as a criminal. Now, you stand before me as hero. There is no finer example of greatness rising from humility than you here. There is only one thing I can grant to recognize such valiance. Please, honor me, and take a knee."

Alec did as he was bade, and knelt before the Warden-Commander. Aedan drew the Vigilance from his back, and gently rested the blade on Alec's shoulder.

"Alec, I, Aedan Cousland, recognize your bravery and leadership skills against the darkspawn horde who assaulted Vigil's Keep. Your actions saved the lives of many men and women who fought behind these walls, and were instrumental in breaking the horde here. The only word for such deeds is heroic. For outstanding courage and magnificent valor in the face of overwhelming odds against a terrible foe, I knight thee Ser Alec the Valiant, that none may ever forget your deeds. Now, rise Ser Alec, knight and defender of Amaranthine!"

Alec had knelt as a convicted conscript and rose to his feet as a knight. The cheers of the people and his family behind him was enough to make him weep, but he would not show tears here, even as his heart soared with pride.

"Thank you, Warden-Commander."

"I'm thinking of petitioning the king and founding a new knightly order, one that will be dedicated to protecting Ferelden's borders." Aedan stated to the newly appointed knight. "Can I count on you to be one of my first recruits? You're exactly the kind of man we need to defend this country."

"I would be honored, Ser." Alec saluted with pride.

This was an unexpected memory. All of them were expecting more violence, more blood. Examples of Aedan sheer will to dominate. But this was not one of those times. It was a moment of recognition, of honoring another man's heroism. To tell the truth, most of them didn't even realize Aedan was capable of being so magnanimous. It was certainly a side of the Hero none of them had ever experienced in person.

"I had no idea General Cousland was capable of such generosity." Vivienne commented with, quirking her eyebrow.

"Most people don't realize that Aedan is a man of outstanding judge of character, and he always honors those who prove themselves through deeds of character and accomplishment. Much like the day he spared my life and made me his companion." Zevran spoke out on his friend's behalf. "To be shown any kind of respect by Aedan Cousland is an honor most can't even imagine. I know that from personal experience."

**~XoXoXo~**

The landscape changed before their eyes once more as the memories shifted forward to another event of importance in Aedan's life. They found themselves once more in an underground dwelling. Except this was no monster's lair covered in slime, decay and death. No, this was a dwarven thaig. But unlike so many thaigs that had fallen to the darkspawn and left the dwarven empire a crumbling shadow of what it once was, this one was full of roaring fires and cheering dwarves, all shouting and praising a glorious victory. Dwarven soldiers stood around the great halls and building of blue stone, their banners flying high and their swords raised in victory as toasted on another with full mugs of dwarven ale.

Varric looked at the banners that were hanging upon the walls and recognized them. "I know that heraldry. That's the symbol of House Helmi. I guess they must've reclaimed this thaig for Orzammar."

"A tremendous victory, given how much Orzammar has lost." Ranier remarked.

"More so than you might think." Zevran added. He pointed ahead towards a massive feast that was being held with every manner of food and delicacy one could think of. At the head of the table was a dwarven man wearing noble armor with crown upon his head. "That's King Bhelen. I'd recognize any man who Aedan placed upon a throne."

"Holy shit! Do you any idea what members of the Merchant's Guild would pay just to get a look at the King of Orzammar? And here I am seeing him for free!" Varric laughed.

"Looks like some kind of party. This must've been one helluva victory." Iron Bull commented.

"Joy, victory, dominance and hope. All these things swirling together in an ocean of celebration. None of them ever thought they'd live to see a day like this, yet here they are, and they want to shout it to all the Deep Roads." Cole said clairvoyantly.

"Wow! Would you like at the spread they got goin' on!" Sera practically drooled.

The massive stone tables were almost spilling with every kind of food a chef could possibly make. Barrels of dwarven ale, Antivan wine, Fereldan beer filled the mug and glass of every guest here with no signs of running out. Roasted and braised nugs on silver platters and there was even a whole-roasted bronto cooking on a spit over an roaring fire. And not just dwarven food, but also hearty Fereldan stew, Orlesian pies, roasted ducks, links upon links of sausage, plates of veal and venison. After all the stomach churning grossness and terror they had seen in Aedan's memories, the sight of so much food made most of their stomach's growl and wish they were back at the Winter Palace.

All the dwarves went silent when King Bhelen raised his mug to give a toast. "All hail the brave warriors who gave their lives to reclaim this thaig for the glory of Orzammar. The Warriors of House Helmi have proved their mettle and loyalty to our people and reclaimed a piece of our empire we once thought lost. Let us also praise the brave souls of Kal-Hirol who were born Casteless and died Warriors, giving their lives to defend the dwarven people, for without their sacrifice, Orzammar surely would have perished."

"All hail!" The dwarven warriors cheered.

"Let us also give thanks to the man who rediscovered this thaig and made it possible for Noble House Helmi to reclaim it." King Bhelen continued. Aedan and his Wardens approached the feast table and showed the king great respect. King Bhelen in return also showed the human noble and his Wardens equal esteem. "Warden-Commander Aedan, Kal-Hirol was once the seat and pride of the dwarven Smith Caste, it's loss was a great blow to our people, and many of its secrets were lost to the darkspawn. Your efforts here made it possible for us to reclaim what our people had given up in the name of survival. With this thaig back under our control, we now have access to all the secrets we lost, and have a renewed chance to reclaiming more of our lost territory. First crowning Orzammar's rightful king, and now this. If you had the fortune of being born a dwarf, you'd have been made a Paragon twice over! For you truly must have the Ancestors' favor!"

"Valos atredum!" The dwarven warriors cheered.

Aedan smiled proudly and respectfully saluted the dwarven king. "You do me great honor, King Bhelen. I could not have done this without the aid of my brave Wardens. Nor without the aid of Dworkin Glavanok's lyrium explosives."

Oghren, Sigrun, Anders, Nathaniel and Velanna all stood proudly as the mighty Warriors of Orzammar cheered their praise. A mad-looking dwarf with singed eyebrows who could only have been Dworkin Glavanok also took a bow as the Warriors cheered his name. An honor most people never achieve.

"May this be yet another sign of friendship between the kingdoms of Ferelden and Orzammar!" Aedan shouted, raising a mug of beer to the dwarven king.

"To friendship!" King Bhelen toasted.

"Frienship!" The dwarven army cheered.

Music played and merriment filled the thaig as all the attendants drank, ate sang and celebrated this victorious occasion. Every member of the Warrior Caste showed tremendous respect and gratitude to Sigrun and Oghren, two dwarven warriors with no Caste or standing in dwarven society, and at one time, considered lower than dirt in the eyes of Orzammar. Now Orzammar's elite warriors cheered their names and sang their praises.

Anders and Justice sat at the feast table with several plates of different kinds of foods stacked in front of them. Neither one of them had ever expected to partake in such revelry. Anders always thought he'd be on the run and the only time he'd ever get some good food was at his last meal before the Templars executed him. As a spirit, Justice had never thought to see the waking world outside the Fade, let alone partake in its splenderous chaos, but now he was here being celebrated by these mortals simply for doing what he was meant to do. The mage and the spirit took the time to enjoy this celebration while it lasted, and Anders tried to show Jutice the simple joys of getting drunk every now and then.

Nathaniel and Velanna both kept to themselves, neither one of them were much for celebration and revelry. Despite this, both of them recognized the weight this accomplishment meant to others, and a sense of pride quietly swelled inside the human noble and Dalish mage. After all the shame and revilement that had been slandered on his family's name thanks to his father's action, Nathaniel was beyond proud to have taken part in this achievement and removed some of the dishonor that stained the Howes. Not all that long ago, he never would have imagined being here, let alone celebrating it with Aedan Cousland. When Velanna was exiled, she thought she would never feel proud to be Dalish again, yet being a part of this made her feel like she was a part of something great once more. She only wished that her sister was there to share this moment with her.

Cassandra never realized Aedan was capable of being so festive after everything she had seen of the man. She and the others watched as Aedan drank beer and sang songs of victory with the dwarven warriors, and even danced with them. All of them were reminded that deep down, beneath all that intensity and wrath their still dwelled the soul of a human being. Even a man like Aedan Cousland remembered how to take a moment to breath and celebrate well-deserved praise with friends, for moments like this were not common and should be savored while they lasted.

"Man, these dwarves sure know how to throw a party!" Iron Bull laughed.

"One thing I can positively say about the dwarves as a compliment: they know how to fight hard, drink hard, and party hard." Zevran complimented.

"When the dwarves actually take a moment to not kiss up to the Ancestors or let themselves be restricted to the sodding Castes, they can actually be a pretty tolerable people." Varric smiled.

"And to have been attended this soiree with the King of Orzammar? Most people can't even dream of such an honor." Vivienne said rather impressed.

"Well, of course Aedan has met the King of Orzammar, he put the man on the throne himself!" Zevran reminded.

"Did you see the Warden-Commander? I didn't know the man was even capable of being joyous, let alone sing and dance."

"Yeah, didn't think Cassandra was capable of bein' love-dovey, smooch-faced, but look at how long she's been with the Inquisitor." Sera joked.

"Ugh. Thank you, Sera." Cassandra said sarcastically.

"This was another happy day. When victory not tragedy and loss sang in the Deep Roads, when the dwarves reclaimed what they believed lost. Getting it back made them feel whole again. And he made it possible, so he shared in their joy."

"I guess in some ways, the dwarves of Orzammar got a lot in common with the elves." Varric sighed sympathetically.

Aedan took a moment to sit down, weary from all the singing and partying he had done with the dwarven warriors. Now, he wanted to take a moment and enjoy the fine dinning that King Bhelen had served for this banquet. As he poured himself a tall mug of beer with a perfectly cooked, rare steak in front of him, Aedan was approached by yet another dwarf. Judging from the fact that he didn't wear armor, but dwarven finery, the man was of the Noble Caste. A son of House Dace, judging from the heraldry embroided on his tunic.

The dwarven noble gave a humble bow of respect to the human warrior before introducing himself. "Stone met, Warden-Commander Aedan Cousland. My name is Jerrik Dace of Noble House Dace, and it's an honor to finally make your acquaintance."

"Atrast vala, salroka." Aedan greeted in dwarven.

"My uncle Anwer Dace told me how you rescued him and his men from Deep Stalkers in Aeducan Thaig. With this and settling Orzammar's throne, you're quickly becoming a hero to the dwarven people. You've certainly done more for our people than Paragon Branka ever did." Jerrik praised respectfully. "I had hoped that, perhaps, you would be willing to hear of another way you can help me and my House reclaim another piece of our people's lost glory."

Aedan finished his drink and looked over to the dwarven noble, raising his eyebrow with interest. "What do you have in mind, Jerrik Dace?"

"Have you ever heard of thaig called Amgarak?"

**~XoXoXo~**

The world around them faded to black once more, and they could already feel another shift in these memories shaping around them. They once again found themselves in the setting and trapping of Vigil's Keep. It had been completely repaired since the battle against the Mother's darkspawn, and now showed no signs of ever being under siege. In fact, is was grander than ever.

Aedan was standing in the Keep's throne room. The brazier was burning brightly, and the sounds of men training out in the courtyard echoed into this place, revealing the intensity of their instruction. The vast hall was empty except for him and one other soul. It was Nathaniel Howe, the man who once wanted to assassinate Aedan and now served as his second-in-command. The two Fereldan Wardens had come far from the expectations their fathers had set out for them.

Aedan sat on his throne with his prized and beloved mabari, Dane, sitting next to him. He scratched the massive hound behind his ears, and Dane enjoyed every second of his master's attention. The two of them had been apart from each for a long time now, and both master and mabari missed each other like two close brothers would.

Nathaniel stood quietly before his commander while he petted his mabari, not knowing why he had been summoned here in private. Usually, such meetings with Aedan were never good ones. "You wanted to see me, Warden-Commander?"

"Yes, I most certainly did, Nathaniel." Aedan answered, directing his attention to his subordinate and away from his dog. "In the past year since your conscription into the Order, you and I have seen a great deal."

"That's an understatement if I ever heard one." Nathaniel confirmed.

"And in that time frame, much has been accomplished." Aedan continued. "Our victory over both the Architect and the Mother and rebuilding Amaranthine. Now, thanks to the resources we're mining from the Dragonbone Wastes, the Silverite Mines, and our friendship with the dwarves in Orzammar, our nation's military is almost back on its feet. The Silver Order has fully replaced Maric's Shield."

"A tremendous accomplishment to be sure, especially after suffering a Blight." Nathaniel acknowledged. "However, we've also lost much, as well. Velanna leaving the Order to find her sister, and then losing both Anders and Justice in a single ill-fated encounter. Who knows where he is now, and what Justice might be doing to him."

"A sad loss, but one of Anders' doing." Aedan said unsympathetically. "And now, you and the rest of this Order are going to suffer another loss."

"What? What do you mean?" Nathaniel asked completely off guard.

"I'm stepping down from the rank of Warden-Commander. I am leaving the Order, Nathaniel. For good." Aedan clarified specifically.

"You...you can't do that! Can you?" Nathaniel questioned confusedly. "The Order is supposed to be a lifelong commitment. You can't just turn your back on that."

"I have given more for this Order and its cause in the past two years than most have done in an entire lifetime." Aedan rebutted sternly. "Not only did I have to recruit an army to combat the Blight, I had to solve a civil war and solve everyone else's problems in Orzammar, the Circle Tower, and the Breceilian Forest before finally killing the Archdemon, which was no small or painless feat. Then I had to put down two darkspawn armies here in Amaranthine. I think I've done more than fair share for this Order, and am entitled to a little selfishness now."

"Isn't that why you joined the Order? To fight these monsters and keep the world safe?" Nathaniel inquired, still not believing they were even having this conversation.

"Truth be told, I never gave a single nug-shit about the Grey Wardens." Aedan answered honestly. "I only joined the Order to save our country and avenge my family. I have more than fulfilled my obligations to the Order. And after the shit I saw in Amgarrak, I realized that I don't want to die in some hole in the Deep Roads without fulfilling my own affairs. It's time for me to look to my own heart.

Nathaniel still couldn't believe this was really happening. "And what about the rest of the Order? Do you think they'll simply accept this?"

An amused chuckle rang in Aedan's throat. "If the rest of the Order or the First Warden have a problem with it, they can kiss my ass. After everything I just said, they have no business telling me what I can and cannot do. What I brought you here for is to discuss my immediate replacement as the Warden-Commander of Ferelden."

"Who do you have in mind?" Nathaniel asked curiously.

"You, of course. Who else?" Aedan stated factually. "I am abdicating my rank as Warden-Commander and Arl of Amaranthine to you."

Nathaniel's eyes went wide with revelation and shock. Ever since he returned to this country and was conscripted into the Wardens, he never thought to ever be placed in a seat of any kind of authority in Amaranthine.

"Warden-Commander, you cannot be serious..." Nathaniel said disbelievingly.

"And why not? You know this land, it's people. Amaranthine was your family's seat, and as the elder son, you were groomed for rulership of this arling one day." Aedan listed, unconcerned with Nathaniel's surprise.

"Yes, but now my house's name is lower than mud! My father's crimes will forever haunt my family, even when my nephew has grandchildren of his own. The people of this arling will never accept a Howe are their ruler!" Nathaniel argued painfully.

Aedan was unconvinced and undeterred by Nathaniel's reasoning. "Your remarkable service to the Order and actions against the darkspawn horde has scraped away the blemishes your father left on your houses name. In the time I have known you, you have shown tremendous leadership skills and outstanding character. And I didn't believe it when we first met, but I have come to consider you a friend. Now, I am asking you, as a friend, to take my place, the place you have earned, and protect our people."

Nathaniel was practically stunned by Aedan Cousland's words. When they first met, the Hero actually wanted to execute Nathaniel, but was convinced to put him through the Joining by Oghren. Then Aedan punched Nathaniel out cold. Nathaniel was the son of the man who murdered the Cousland family, now Aedan wanted to make him Warden-Commander and Arl of Amaranthine? Nathaniel was humbled by Aedan's confidence in him, and honored that he considered him a friend. With so much faith in him from a man of such accomplishment, how could Nathaniel refuse?

"I...I would be honored to take you place, Aedan." Nathaniel obliged respectfully.

"I knew you wouldn't disappoint me." Aedan smiled and Dane barked happily. "Seneschal Garevel will swear you in and host the formal proceedings with the rest of the Order. Watch over this land, Nathaniel. Protect our people. When I leave, I don't know if I'm coming back."

"That was always the case whenever you set off on a mission, Commander." Nathaniel responded unworried. "What are you leaving the Wardens for?"

Aedan turned his back to Nathaniel, but Cassandra and the others could see him carefully holding a ring in his hands and looked upon it forlornly. It was a twisted band of rosewood, the grain of which seemed to change and shift from one moment to the next, taking on the forms of animals and people. Aedan looked upon it with such affection that it had to have been more than just a souvenir or keepsake. That ring held a place in his own heart.

"Let's just say I've got some unfinished business to complete. Very personal business." Aedan answered after a long pause.

"Allow me to say this then, before you go, Commander." Nathaniel bade respectfully. "When we first met, all I could think about was how much I blamed you for what happened to my family. And despite our original hostility, serving with you gave me the chance to redeem the shame my father smeared on our family. Serving with you has been my life's honor, and I am proud to consider you a friend."

"The honor was mine, Nathaniel."

"In case anyone asks, what do I tell them you left for?" Warden-Commander Nathaniel asked the Hero.

Aedan stopped for a moment and smiled. "Tell them I'm going on a Witch Hunt."

The two Fereldan nobles saluted one another then Aedan and Dane made their way out of Vigil's Keep one last time to start another adventure. They started by heading south, to the Korcari Wilds.

"This must have been around the time when the Hero of Ferelden all but disappeared from the world." Cassandra discerned. "After he abdicated his position as Warden-Commander, Leliana could only find rumors of scattered sightings of him. The only time he ever truly reappeared to the world was when he traveled to Kirkwall with King Alistair."

Zevran nodded his head in acknowledgment. "It's true. Most of us who kept close relations with him didn't even know where he was for all those years. Even his brother Fergus was in the dark, but he wasn't worried. He knew his younger brother could take care of himself."

"Yeah, well, a guy like Aedan Cousland is best taken in small doses. Maker knows I wouldn't want to be near him all the time." Varric commented.

"With the way the Hero is always taking about duty and honor, I'm surprised he chose to leave his post." Ranier contemplated. "What could possibly be so important that it would take a man of such convictions like Aedan Cousland away from his duty?"

"Hey, so long as he ain't eatin' people, he can go where he wants for all I care." Sera dismissed without care.

"It was love." Cole answered without even needing to wonder. "It left an emptiness inside him, just like when he lost his family. He couldn't stand to suffer that feeling again, and sought her out. She was the only one who could make him feel whole once again."

Vivienne scoffed and quirked an eyebrow, more disappointed than unimpressed. "You mean to say that he left for a woman? If General Cousland is that emotionally fragile, than he is less impressive than I believed."

"We just watched this man destroy one of the darkspawn monstrosities that invaded the Golden City with Corypheus, who survived an avalanche in the Frostback Mountains, ended a Blight, oh, and we witnessed him commit the taboo of cannibalism, and you think he's emotionally fragile?" Dorian listed off scathingly. "I think you need to take a moment to reevaluate your judgment of others, Madame Vivienne."

"Yeah, and what better reason is there to leave everything behind than find a woman?" Iron Bull chuckled. "Right, Varric?"

"Hell, yeah!" Varric agreed loudly.

"In that case, there is only one woman in all of Thedas that is more precious to Aedan than any military commission. His golden-eyed darling." Zevran realized with a wide grin on his face. "He would have moved mountains and slain armies for that woman. If there was ever a woman to abandon the world for, it was her."

**~XoXoXo~**

The walls and trappings of the keep faded away, leaving the visitors to this strange place standing in darkness. Light slowly filled the world around them again, revealing them to be standing in another realm of the Crossroads. It was serene and quiet with elven ruins scattered across the landscape. There was no sign of danger around them, all they could feel was a strange yet welcome sense of tranquility that seemed to radiate from this place like a warm sun.

"Are we back at the Crossroads? Is it finally over?" Dorian asked, hoping dreadfully that it was.

"I don't think so, Sparkler. Look over there." Varric pointed to the nearby distance.

There was a small ruined shrine that looked like it had been converted into a house. A small pillar of smoke billowed from its stone roof with the smell of stew coming from it, and outside the humble home was a small garden filled with fruits and vegetables ripening in the fertile soil. Someone had take great effort and care into turning this ruin into a home.

Standing before the humble home was an Aedan Cousland none of them recognized. There was a look of such utter joy on his face, not like the look of celebration he had in Kal-Hirol, but one of truest and complete happiness. Like he was truly content to be here and nowhere else. Standing next to him was the object of his joy. The only woman who could ever love a man like him, the witch, Morrigan.

Morrigan also shared in Aedan's unrequited joy. And in her arms was the object of their shared happiness: a baby wrapped in a blanket. Morrigan carefully handed her child to Aedan, who held him with great. For the first time ever, Cassandra and her comrades saw something they never thought possible: Aedan weeping, not in sadness but from the pure joy that filled him. The hands that had delivered so much death, brought so much pain to his enemies, now held his son for the first time. For any man with a soul, there was no greater day of pride and joy than holding their child in their arms for the first time.

"His name is Kieran. Our son, Aedan." Morrigan introduced, her voice filled with blissful happiness.

"He's beautiful, Morrigan." Aedan smiled joyously, happy tears streaming his face as his son smiled at him for the first time. "He has your hair."

"And your eyes and smile, my love." Morrigan placed her hand on Aedan's tattooed face and wiped the tear from his cheek before gently kissing him. Aedan carefully wrapped one arm around her, gently hold her and their son close to him. "I...I'm sorry I left you, Aedan. I never want to lose you again."

"You will never lose me, Morrigan. I live only to hold you both in my arms. I love you, Mo Siuile Orga Whurnin."

"And I love you, Aedan of Highever." Morrigan returned, her golden eyes filled with longing and affection that she had kept buried for too long.

The Hero and the Witch embraced each other and their son closely, their love from one another radiated from their whole beings. For the first time in Aedan's life since the destruction of his house and joining the Grey Wardens, he felt complete. All the anger he felt, the pain he had suffered, it all washed away. It was like his soul was a raging storm, but being with his family brought calm to it. Some people thought they needed the Maker to find inner peace and meaning to their lives. Aedan had his country, and now he had a wife and son. His life was complete.

For the fist time since they met, Cassandra's heart now truly went out to Aedan. These weren't merely his memories, but an insight to the depth of his soul. "But it wasn't to last. According to what Leliana told me, Aedan had to leave known Thedas for the East to seek out a cure for the Blight."

"And this, right here, is the reason why he sought out that cure." Zevran elated. "Aedan does not fear pain or death, but he has something worth living for."

"This is where he found completion. All the pain, and loss and anger, all gone. He was beyond happy here, and he would do anything to be reunited with them." Cole said with a sensation of contentment as he looked upon the memory.

"Giving up everything, risking it all in the unknown, just so he can go back home to his woman and kid? Guess the Hero of Ferelden is more human than most people will ever know." Varric said quietly.

"Not human enough. He still eats people." Sera shuddered.

"After everything that man has been through, everything he accomplished, I don't fault his decision to leave the Wardens." Ranier admitted. "What man with half a soul wouldn't give up all the power and rank in the world for a life with the woman he loves and his son?"

"Such men are extremely rare indeed. Either existing only in a child's story, or dying before their time." Vivienne confirmed. "Aedan Cousland is surely a rare breed."

"If that's not true love, I don't know what is." Dorian sighed. "I'd be even more moved if I wasn't irrevocably scarred by all his other memories."

"Back in Par-Vollen, amongst the Ben-Hessrath, we all were taught that this guy wasn't to be underestimated or fucked with unless absolutely necessary. If they knew about this, they'd probably be even more afraid of him." Iron Bull said ominously, catching everyone's attention. "Men with something to lose are always the most dangerous."

The memory of Aedan starting his life with Morrigan and Kieran came to an end as the world around them began to change as though it had a will of its own. This change was different than the others. The ground they stood on shook strongly under their feet. The same white magic that brought them here to begin with whited out the rest of Aedan's memory and enveloped them in its strange magical energy. As it surrounded them, they heard a strange, majestic music coming from all around them. Was this the end of this venture, or the beginning. They didn't know. The only way out was forward.

**~Language Codex~**

**Seth'lin:** Elven slur. Translates as _"Thin Blood"._

**Valos Atraedum:** Dwarven phrase. Translates as _"Favor of the Ancestors"._

**Atrast Vala, Salroka:** Dwarven greeting. Basic translations is _"Greetings, My Friend"._

**Mo Siuile Orga Whurnin:** Old Alamarii. Translates as _"My Golden-Eyed Darling"._

**Author's Note:**

**Alright so here it is, my latest chapter!**

**I know it's a bit later than usual. Things got pretty busy on my end, and I had computer issues.**

**This is the longest chapter I have done so far, so I hope that makes up for the tardiness on my part.**

**These will be my last chapters of this story, and after that I will be done with writing for a while. **

**So, I have decided to take an opportunity to answer some questions and reveal some things I didn't with my previous heroes.**

**I hope this chapter was to your liking and that you will all continue to read, review and enjoy.**


	48. The Path of Memory: Part II

**~The Path of Memory: Part II**

The bright flash had finally dissipated and, some of the companions had hoped that this horrible trip down memory lane had ended, but at this point they all knew better than to kid themselves.

"Oh, someone please tell me this magical shit is over with and we can finally go back home and get smashed!" complained Iron Bull, still rubbing his eye.

"Please!" Sera began, looking nauseous. "Don't let that bright light show happen again!"

"Where are we know?" Cassandra asked with great concern. "Is this another one of Aedan's memories, or are we back in the library?"

"I don't thinks so, my sweet Nevarran princess." Answered Zevran. "I can still tell we're somewhere in Fereldan, and a rather rustic part of from the looks of it."

"That's not very specific, Zevran. _All_ of Ferelden is rather rustic." Vivienne added while she placed her handkerchief back over her nose.

They all looked around their surroundings, and yes, it truly did look like a Fereldan settlement. It was a was a humble village. Quite a few houses were built close to the most important buildings in town: the Chantry and the local tavern. The weather was actually rather fair. But as they all looked further they saw many farmsteads and fields of crops and grazing cattle, all going up along the Imperial Highway.

"Ah, rural Fereldan." Vivviene said with veiled disdain. "How...quaint. I do hope the mud in these blasted memories doesn't stay with us should we find our way back."

"Pardon me, but haven't we been here before?" Dorian asked.

"Yes." Ranier answered. "We're somewhere on one of the farmstead on the outskirts of Highever." The knight pointed over yonder and could all see the mighty Cousland Castle as it overlooked the port town of Highever Village.

"Hey! Look over there!" called out Varric.

They all looked towards where the beardless dwarf was pointing and they all felt a mix of relief and bewilderment; it was Garret Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall. Not adorned in the fineries as befits a scion of the Amell family, nor in his signature black armor. No, he dressed as a humble farmer, but still sporting his signature beard. Sitting in front of modest household with a look of bliss painted on his face.

"Hawke!" Varric cried out, jumping and waving to his friend. "We're over here!"

"That's not your friend, Varric." Cassandra told him, gently taking hold of his forearm. "This is probably one of his memories, just like the Hero's"

"You can't know that for sure!" Varric argued, sounding like he was trying to convince himself. "He could be trapped here too!"

And before anyone could try to convince the storyteller otherwise he began running towards his friend and they all followed.

"Hey, Garret!" Varric called out as he rushed out, reaching towards one of his closest friends. "Man, I'm glad your safe. You won't believe what..." Varric extended his hand to the Champion, but his hand passed through him like passing through smoke.

"I'm sorry, Varric." Dorian said with a look concern. "But I'm afraid we're all still stuck in your wayward friend's memories. And from the looks of things we will now be experiencing those of our favorite champion."

"Shit!" Varric cursed angrily and sadly. The poor deshyr seemed to be on the verge of tears. "I had a feeling it wasn't really him, but...but I just...If anything happens I don't..."

"We understand, Varric." Cassandra said consoling, understanding how he felt. She put both hands on his shoulders to calm and comfort him. "We'll find him. We'll find them all, I promise."

"Thanks, Seeker." Varric sighed, regaining his composure. "I guess you guys will get to see the Hawke like I do now."

"He's happy!" Cole chirped aloud and everyone turned their attention to the former spirit. "He is so happy and so proud. He didn't think he could be so blessed."

"Yes, I'm sure the life of a...farmer in this wet and muddied country must be so...enriching." Vivviene commented as if sounding she wanted to puke.

"Hey, come here!" Hawke yelled out pointing the Iron Lady's direction.

"Uh-oh!" Zevran half giggled. "Now you're gonna get it."

"Preposterous!" The enchanter called. "This just a memory! This not the real..."

"Garret! Come on!" Hawke called once more, in a very excited tone, motioning someone towards him. And then they all saw whom he was calling to. A robust looking boy, no older than five years old with a head of thick black hair was running towards him. This truly caught them all of guard, they were looking at Hawke all right, just a different one.

"Holy shit!" Varric exclaimed in realization. "That's _Malcolm_ Hawke, Garret's father!"

"Wow!" Sera piped. "Could've fooled me! The look so alike, it's scary, innit?"

They all watched as the boy ran up to his father, and Malcolm caught his son in his arms and raised him up in the air, both of them smiling and laughing.

"Is Mother alright?" The future Champion asked.

"Oh, Garret, she's better than alright. She's couldn't be better!" Malcolm answered as if he was on top of the world. "Come on, it's time to meet your new brother...and sister!"

Garret looked up at his father in confusion. "But I thought I was only having one sibling."

"Well, it seems like the Maker decided to give you both." Malcolm have chuckled as he led his son back into the house. "Come. Your mother wants you to meet Carver and Bethany.

As father and son went to go a greet their new family members, the world around them shifted and faded, giving way to a new memory to witness.

**~XoXoXo~**

They were now witnessing an older Garret and a much older Malcolm together behind their house. Malcolm was holding a greatsword in his hands while Garret was holding a longsword in his. Not far from the two of them was a young boy whacking away at practice dummies with a wooden sword, and on the porch of the house was a beautiful woman, with fine long brown hair, braiding the hair of an adorable little girl, giggling as her mother's hands made knots of her long mane.

Garret at this point couldn't have been more than fourteen, yet he was tall and quite muscular for a lad his age. Growing up a farmer and receiving training from not just his father, but the local Templars and traveling Chasind had done wonders for his body. Even as young as he was, he was exceptionally handsome.

Carver and Bethany were both seven. Carver looked like a younger and lesser version of his brother and had a very surly look to his face. While Bethany was cute as a button, with fair cheekbones and fine raven hair.

Malcolm was certainly older, his beard was longer and hair had started to grey but still appeared fit and firm as an oak tree. The woman whom everyone could assume was Leandra Amell, had long, beautiful brown hair tied into ponytail. Her long face and pale green eyes still held the beauty of her youth, unmarred by age and motherhood.

"Aw, that's just sweet." Zevran said. "The Champion learned to eviscerate his fellow man from his papa. That's good quality family time."

"Well it's certainly more quality time than my father gave me!" Dorian half joked.

"Hot damn!" Varric exclaimed. "I had always heard Leandra was a fine catch, but seeing her now! I'll bet half the young lords of the Free Marches and their younger brothers killed themselves when she got married!"

"Yes! And to an infamous apostate and mercenary, no less!" Dorian agreed, extremely amused. "It's both a great scandal and a fairy tale!"

"Quiet, you two!" Cassandra scorned. "Pay attention." And everyone went back to watching the Hawke's martial training.

"Now listen very carefully, Garret, because I'm going to tell you a the secret to victory in combat." Malcolm instructed while his son continued his forms. "The secret to victory, is to never restrict yourself to a single discipline, but be open to all possibilities. Focus not on defeating your opponent, but achieving your goal."

"I don't understand, Father." Hawke said, trying to grasp his father's wisdom.

Malcolm smiled at his son, looking to impart on his eldest what he had learned through many near-death experiences. "Any brute and killer can simply hack and slash at his opponent to take their life, but success hardly ever comes from a mere display of force. Victory is found through understanding your opponent, his fighting style, his equipment, the kind of person he is. When you learn to understand who and what your opponent is, you will find the way to achieve your goal. Only through understanding do we achieve peace."

"How can I learn to understand my opponent if he seeks to harm me, Father?" Hawke questioned.

Malcolm stretched out his arms and gestured his son to look at everything around them. "Learn to observe the world around you, down to the smallest detail. Master the power of observation, a power most people ignore or underestimate. Never limit what you learn, whether it's from other humans, or mages, or even elves and dwarves. Because when we learn to understand everything around us, victory in combat is easy."

The young Carver grew impatient with the lack of attention he was getting jealous that his older brother was receiving all their father's instruction.

"Father, Garret's been training all day! Can you start teaching me now?" Carver complained for his father's attention. "You promised you'd teach me those moves that the Champion from Starkhaven taught you."

Malcolm chuckled to himself, remembering that he did indeed promise to teach his younger son. "Alright, Carver. I'll show you those techniques now."

"Can we use real swords!?" Carver asked excitedly, his eyes wide with hope.

"When you're older, Carver. Real swords are still too heavy for you."

"Aw, Father!" Carver whined.

Malcolm turned his attention back to Garret one last time before keeping his promise to Carver. "Remember this, Garret, for this applies to more than just combat, but to all aspects of life. Master the power of observation. Observe the fact, and be open to all possibilities."

"Like a detective?" Garret wondered.

"_Exactly_ like a detective." Malcolm smiled. "When we learn to understand the world around us do we achieve peace. And you've achieved peace, victory is easy."

As his father left to keep his promise to Carver, Garret stood there, contemplating his father's words. He didn't understand how observing everything around him was supposed help him win in a fight? Hawke didn't know, but he would make it his life's effort to learn how.

Varric and his companions watched as his best friend's childhood memories unfolded before them. How he grew up in rural Ferelden, learning everything he could from both his parents' examples. Leandra was once the crowned jewel of a prominent noble family, educated and cultured by some of the finest scholars and tutors in the South, but gave all that up to be a simple wife and mother, and never regretted it. Nevertheless, Leandra passed on everything she learned as a noble of House Amell to her children. History, arithmetic, philosophy, literature, languages, the cultures and customs of other countries. Leandra was a patient and caring woman, and took care to assist her children as they needed. Garret and Bethany were eager to learn everything they could from their mother, while Carver was more content with learning combat with their father.

**~XoXoXo~**

"Alright, my fearless warriors, it's time to get started on dinner." Leandra called out to her husband and sons while she held Bethany's hand.

The Hawke family all went inside their house and all the wayward visitors followed them. To their surprise the cottage was much larger than it looked outside. A very large living area with a decent sized hearth and a large cauldron to cook their meals. There was also four fairly large rooms towards the corner of each side of the house. The parents both shared a room and so did the twins, though Garret had his own room and the last room in their abode was a storage area, where Malcolm kept some his more...secretive belonging such as his weapons and armor from his time with the Crimson Oars mercenary band, and a few items of magic that he took with from the Circle of Magi.

"So, how are our boys coming along? Will you make knights of them yet?" Leandra asked as she readied dinner.

"Garret's training is coming along excellently, he'll probably be surpassing me soon when it comes to combat. Carver, despite his bravado, is still falling a little behind." Malcolm told his wife honestly. "He has great potential and he's eager to perform, but he overlooks the subtleties of the techniques and just wants to force it to work."

"Ah. So you mean to say he's a seven-year old wanting to act like a seven-year old." Leandra laughed lightly. "He's young, dear, and wants to have fun with what he's learning. Give him time, he'll master your techniques yet."

"True, but he's not catching on as easily as Garret did at Carver's age. I'll just have to give him more attention to help him catch up." Malcolm determined.

Something about what her husband said reminded Leandra of something that brought an amused smile to her face. "Speaking of attention, it would seem Garret got more than his fair share of it last night...with our neighbor's daughter, no less! What was her name? Peaches!"

Hearing his mother speak to his father about his incredible first night with a woman made Garret's blood turn to ice and he froze stiff. He was just glad his mother hadn't found out about him and Peach's sister, too.

"Oh, really?" Malcolm replied half impressed and half worried. "Well, I hope you took proper precautions, son."

"From what the gossiping hens around the village say, they have. And they also say quite a few farmers heard the two of them going on all night long." Leandra continued in a teasing tone making Garret turn as red as a cherry.

"I think the hearth needs more wood!" Garret said quickly, needing an excuse to get away from his mother and went quickly to the storage room for the wood axe.

"Well, lets hope he doesn't make us grandparents too soon." Malcolm continued as his son scurried away.

"And now there's Bethany." Said Leandra in a very worried tone.

"What about her? Is something wrong?" Malcolm asked noticing his wife's concerned look.

Leandra exhaled slowly to tell her husband the upsetting news. "There was an incident earlier this morning when you and boys where out helping Old Barlin with his roof. Bethany was out playing with the chickens, trying to make them follow her. She... she made a ball of bright blue light in her hands and practically hypnotized them. She showed it to me like she had learned a new a trick and I her told her stop immediately and not to do it anywhere were anyone can see her."

Malcolm sighed morosely as his wife relayed the news to him. It their worse fear realized but they couldn't have been to surprised. "So...she has inherited the magic in our blood."

"What are going to do, Malcolm?" Leandra asked, gravely worried. "Do we tell the Chantry or do we..."

"No, Leandra." Malcolm responded gently, but sternly. "We always knew that this would be a possibility and I promised myself when each of them were born I would never let the Chantry hold them and chain them like they did to me. I will never let this family be torn apart."

Leandra nodded slowly. Malcolm never talked about his past, and she never pressed the issue knowing what a sensitive subject it was. The only thing her love ever said was that the Chantry claimed him when he was young and only gained his freedom through much bloodshed and strife. She always knew that he was mercenary and would often feign being a member of Kirkwall's Circle, that's how they met, but the man she had loved so much didn't need to give him his past so long as they could have a future.

"Then what will we do? She needs to be able to hide her magic."

"No. She needs to learn how to_ control_ her gift." Malcolm said correctively. "She can't learn to hide it; there is no hiding it. I will teach how to hone and wield her abilities with discipline and humility, so she uses only when it's absolutely necessary."

That didn't put down Leandra's fear entirely. "But what about demons!? What if they seek her out and she doesn't have the strength to..."

"Trust me, love." Malcolm said as her embraced his consolingly. "I've been an apostate most of my life and I haven't fallen to any demon or blood magic, despite all of Val Royeaux's propaganda. I will teach to never fall victim, either."

"I hope so but if..."

"Mother, the stew's boiling over!" Garret called, just returning with firewood.

Immediately Leandra turned her attention back to her family's supper and it helped put the fact that Bethany is a mage our of her mind, which Malcolm was grateful for.

"Son, go get your brother and sister for dinner." Malcolm chuckled as his wife frantically tried to stop stew from overcooking.

"Yes, Father." Garret complied to his father with slight grin face, but his smile died quickly as he turned his back on his parents, both of them ignorant that their oldest boy heard everything they said about his sister. Dear Andraste, what was going to happen to this family now?

All the companions just stood there for a moment, letting the moment of a day in the life of the Hawke family sink in. None of them had such a loving family growing up, most of them had their childhood cut short and seeing such a warm, loving family together made some of them wish they had.

Varric was the first one to break the ice. "Well, this sure explains a lot."

"Such as what, Varric?" Cassandra asked.

"Well to start of with, the relationship between Hawke and his kid brother, Carver. Sunshine and Hawke always told me the two of them were never really close. I was never really close to my brother either, but you learn to appreciate what family you've got."

"What surprises the shit of me is the Champion's daddy." pointed out Iron Bull. "I mean how does a guy like learn both how to control magic and have what looks like a ton of martial training?"

"Well from everything I could gather Malcolm escaped the Fereldan Circle while he was still pretty young and spent most of his life in the Marches." Varric explained.

"Hmmm, I suppose what he did was understandable." Cassandra started. "No parent wants their child to be separated from them, perhaps to never be seen again."

"Really?" Dorian interrupted. "I guess I lucked out on the lottery draw with my parents."

"But, still..." The Seeker wasn't finished. "Not sending such a young child to receive _proper _training is dangerous and perhaps even selfish."

"I agree." Vivienne said, not surprising anyone. "Better to receive an education from experienced instructors rather than apostate that never finished his own training, than to run the risk of danger from a misused spell or running afoul of the wrong kind of spirit."

"I take exception to that." Cole replied, mildly insulted.

"Yeah?" Varric questioned challengingly. "Shows what the two of you know, doesn't it."

"And what's that's suppose to mean, darling?" Vivienne said, accepting the challenge.

"Malcolm learned everything from magic to swordsmanship by being out and about. Becoming worldly and actually experiencing what life is actually like, not being cooped up a stuffy tower filled with old tomes and hoping he gets to see a little daylight, or catching the right noble with a lot privileges and connection."

"Yes, yes." Vivienne said as if talking to an ignorant child. "And for all that...accomplishment he died in a backwatered hovel with nothing to show for his efforts."

"He died surrounded by the family he love and loved him in turn." Varric retorted angrily. "That's better than most people actually get, and a wide mile better than the Chantry would ever have allowed him. And now his son is one the greatest heroes in all of Thedas and his daughter is the First Enchanter of Kirkwall, and she's not even thirty yet. I'd say raising them was the _**greatest**_ of accomplishments!"

"Here, here!" Zevran laughed. "How old were you when you were offered the position of First Enchanter."

"Don't you all think this rather pointless?" Ranier reasoned. "It doesn't matter what was right or wrong anymore, everything turned out the way it did. What matters now is finding our comrades."

**~XoXoXo~**

All of them agreed on the point the knight had made, and as if on cue, the memories shifted forward to another point in Hawke's life. They were all standing amongst massive ancient ruin on the outskirts of a forest, large enough to house an entire army. Many walls and spires of Tevinter origin were erected all around the landscape, with many of them now falling into great disrepair. Despite it's decay, the ancient Tevinter outpost still held strong against the wear of time, and were strong enough to stand against any foe that might seek to overtake it. A testament to the Ancient Imperium's ingenuity. Standing tall over the entire ruin was a great tower, that was now looking over the great host of the Fereldan Royal Army.

"So, this Ostagar." Ranier pointed, almost in awe. "Incredible, even in the ruined state it is now, this fortress is still standing tall and proud."

"Oh you should see Minrathous." Dorian added. "It's the oldest and most ruined city of them all, and it hasn't fallen into the sea yet."

"Yeah, that's one good thing I'll say about the Vints." Iron Bull joined. "When they build something, they build it to last."

"Especially when the were built to fight against the Chasind." Cassandra finished for them. "Why are we here?"

"Have you forgotten already, Seeker?" Varric asked. "Hawke and Carver were soldiers here. And since we all know what happened here twelve years ago nobody act surprised, okay?"

"What? Something happened here?" Asked Sera and everyone groaned in annoyance. "I'm kidding! Just trying to lighten the mood."

They were led to a makeshift circle were a loud mix of cheering, jeering and cursing was going on.

"Come on! Get 'im!" One of the soldiers called.

"Kick his arse!" Screamed another.

They all looked to the combatants in the circle, one was wearing a helmet holding a shield in his left hand and mace in the other. The other wore a plane conscripts armor and wielded a greatsword in both hands, and since he wore no helmet they all thought the knew who they were looking at. He had short black hair, blue eyes and a strong jaw but he carried himself with youthful pride and the arrogance of a child.

"That's the...Champion?" Sera asked almost skeptical. "Where's his beard?"

"He has some skill." Ranier pointed out. "But he lacks discipline and restraint, relying more on his muscles and talent rather than thinking with his head. That might get him some victories against raw recruits, but against trained and seasoned fighters, I doubt he'd last very long." Thom Ranier being a seasoned knight and experienced tourney goer, everyone agreed with his logic.

Iron Bull looked like he wanted to gag at seeing such a lousy melee. "Please tell me that twerp isn't the Champion!"

"Nope." Varric answered. "Believe me, the Hawke we're looking for actually knows how to use a sword."

"Ah, so this must be the younger brother, Carver." Vivienne huffed, still upset about being in this miserable country and looking rather nauseous from being in such close proximity to he wilds and amongst grouped up soldiers who most likely hadn't bathed in at least a month.

They watched the small contest go on for a few moments as Carver continued to batter down his less-than-skilled opponent with his sword. When the other man finally yielded everyone around either cheered or cursed as some of them passed coins around for the wagers the made. A few soldiers went over to complement Carver on his victory, while Carver himself looked rather pleased if a bit winded. All of the companions however were not all that impressed. And somehow Carver could see it.

"And what're you looking at!?" The younger Hawke asked indignantly.

"Not much." A familiar, thick, growl-like brogue answered right next behind them all, startling Varric and everyone else. None of them expected to see Aedan Cousland in one of Hawke's memories.

Carver obviously didn't think much of this blue-tattooed warrior, even though the man was clearly his physical superior and could easily break him like twig.

"And what, pray tell, do you think I did wrong?" Carver scoffed at the nobleman. "In case you didn't notice, I won!"

"Winning by luck and winning by skill are two totally different concepts. You swing your sword without any balance or finesse! If your opponent had dodged, you would have thrown off balance, leaving you wide open for a counter-attack. If you're supposed to be our country's first line of defense, then we're all screwed."

By the look on Carver's face, one would think Aedan had just insulted his mother. So walked up to the future Grey Warden with his chest puffed out like an ape, looking for a fight that wasn't going to end well for him. "You think you could do better!? Why don't come here and do your worst."

"You couldn't handle my worst." Aedan growled, and entered the fighting circle.

"Don't worry..." Carver scoffed arrogantly. "I'll try to make the fight last."

"I don't fight...I _kill_." Aedan pulled out his battle-axe intending to do just that when suddenly...

"Carver! That's enough!" Shouted an authoritative voice.

"And there he is ladies and gentlemen!" Varric announced with pride.

They all looked in the direction Varric was motioning at and some of them were a little surprised. A young Garret Hawke, as a soldier in the Fereldan army. The Hawke brothers shared great physical traits but looked completely different in terms of appearances and temperaments. Garret was taller and far more physically imposing. While Carver had a square jaw, his brother's was angular. And unlike his younger sibling, Garret carried himself with authority but also humility. As he walked towards the small crowd, all the other soldiers went quiet and excused themselves, not wanting to reprimanded by this Sergeant.

"Huh. So this is how the two of them met." Iron Bull observed.

"Yeah." Zevran spoke. "The both of them showing up the kid brother. That couldn't have be good for the boy's ego."

The two future legends exchanged their greetings and farewells than the two of them went in the opposite direction of each other to meet their destinies. Hawke's continued in his brother's direction, and Carver looked pissed.

"Why do you always have to do that, Garret!?" Carver berated indignantly.

"Watch your mouth, _Private_." Garret warned his brother sternly. "I may be your brother, but in the field I am your superior, and you will not speak to me in that tone."

"Oh, but of course." Carver said sarcastically while giving his superior a mocking salute, which Garret responded by kicking his brother's feet from underneath him, landing head and shoulders first into the mud. Carver picked himself up while still flashing him an indignant look but said nothing. For the next few moments the two brothers just glared at one another until finally the elder spoke.

"Consider yourself lucky." Hawke continued. "Anyone else and you'd be either in the stocks, or on the block."

"Yes." Carver responded while still rubbing the back of his head. "I'm so lucky to have you as my superior in ever little aspect of my life."

"The hell's that supposed to mean?" Garret demanded.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Sergeant." Carver continued standing at attention. "That would be breaking professional regulations"

"Go ahead." Garret dared. "Speak freely. You always do."

"Every time I try to do something for myself, you show up and show me up!" Carver exploded. Garret quirked an eyebrow but said nothing and let Carver continue. "I joined the Royal Army and so did you, not only do I end up in the same regiment as you, now you're my acting Sergeant, and I have genuflect to everything you say instead of finally becoming something for myself!"

"That's a load of crap and you know it, Carver." Hawke rebuked firmly. "I was made a Sergeant because I served in Lothering's militia for seven years. And you didn't _join_ the army, you were _conscripted,_ like everyone else back home."

"I was trying to stand up for myself against that painted asshole back there, and then you come along and make me look like a chump in front of everyone, and you brought up the fact that we're related!" Carver continued his angry rant.

"Because it's only way I know to make you stop making a fool of yourself." Hawke defended.

"I could've taken him!" Carver shouted angrily at his older brother.

"That's not the point, you stuck-up brat!" Now Garret was starting to get angry. "You're trying to start a fight with a Grey Warden recruit while we're getting ready to go to battle with the darkspawn, all because he told you your not as great a warrior as you think you are! And guess what? It's the truth!"

"You two!" A new and unfamiliar voice called. Both brothers turned their attention over to a tall, muscular woman with long ginger hair, wearing a Lieutenants badge and both of them stood at attention and saluted.

"I don't know what your argument is about and I don't care!" The red-haired officer reprimanded. "Report to Captain Varel at once!"

"Yes, Ma'am!" The Hawke's said unison. Both of them walked off to meet with the rest of their platoon and both said nothing.

"That is truly sad." Spoke Cassandra. "They should be working together, trying to build each other up, not fighting with one another."

"Well, they get along better the Bartrand and I did." Varric pointed.

"Why does he always have to do this?" Cole said cryptically.

"Hey, It looks like Cole's doing his mind reading thing." Iron Bull called out. "Let's listen."

Cole looked in Carver's direction and continued to speak how he was feeling. "Why does he always do this to me!? I try so hard to make something of myself and he's always there either doing it before I did or doing it better than me! Everywhere I go people always go on about how great my brother must be, and don't even get me started on how many women want him! I'm just a poor man's imitation of Garret in every aspect of my life! Even father favored him over me! It's not fair! This time things will be different! I WILL makes something of myself, today, here, in Ostagar!"

"Wow!" Zevran exclaimed, amused. "Aedan was right, that kid did get himself killed pretty quick, especially for having a chip on his shoulder that large."

"It's one thing to know how to use a sword..." Ranier started. "But knowing why to use a sword should be something all warriors should consider, first and foremost." Seeing Carver reminded Thom Ranier of himself when he was younger; skilled and strong but arrogant and conceited. Maybe if he had an older brother to knock sense into him when he was younger so many people that died because of him would still be alive.

"It's very sad, really." Commented Dorian. "He only wanted to make a name for himself, and he died so young before he could even do that."

"How do think Hawke must've felt?" Varric asked, and Cole turned his attention towards the Champion to find out.

"Why does he always act like this? He wants too much too fast and it's going to get him killed. I'm only trying to keep him out of trouble. But no matter what Carver acts like I'm some sort of obstacle for him to defeat. I promised father when he died I'd protect the family, even him. All I can do is hope that one day he understand that I'm trying to protect him."

When Cole had finished all of his comrades were silent. For all of them it was sad to see how the Champion and his brother were distant from one another and how Hawke just wanted Craver to be safe. They all stayed queit until Varric broke the ice. "I'm sorry, Hawke. I wish things had turned out better for you and your brother. Your whole family."

**~XoXoXo~**

The memories shifted once again and this time it was another battle, this time it was the great failure that happened at Ostagar that saw King Cailan dead and the Royal Army broken. Time to see how the Hawke's were affected by it. The memory showed the brothers Hawke locked in battle against the Darkspawn. The two of them fought vigorously, with Garret felling three for every one Carver killed.

"Where are the reinforcements!?" Carver yelled out shoving a dead darkspawn off his greatsword.

"They'll be here soon!" Hawke responded as he impaled a genlock through the head. "Just keep your sword up and your head down, when the Tower of Ishal lights, Teyrn Loghain will flank the spawn."

"Well, whoever supposed to light it better hurry up!" Carver panted. "The lines have already been broken!"

"Carver, look!" Garret pointed with his sword northwestward towards the Tower of Ishal as it was lit. Finally, Teyrn Loghain would charge in with his army and finish this battle and the could finally take a breather. A war trumpet was sounded and Garret finally began to come down. What was going on. No. NO! This couldn't be happening. The army that stood proudly under the Yellow Wyvern of Gwaren had begun to march...away from the battle! Hawke's relief quickly turned into horror and horror turned into panic.

"What's going on?" Carver asked, still not comprehending what was happening. "What's going one? Why are they leaving!?"

Before Garret could answer and a Hurlock swung it's crude and rusted longsword at Carver's head. It took all of Hawke's energy to reach his brother in time and shove him down as blocked the attack with his shield and then jam his longsword through the fell creature's throat.

Garret quickly picked up his brother and began to pull him away. The line was broken beyond redrawing and no effective leaders were around to give command. Soldiers and conscripts began fleeing by the dozens, only to be killed by charging darkspawn or stray arrows. Garret had to get Carver out of here now!

"Carver!? Carver, we have to leave now!"

"What!?" The younger brother still couldn't understand their situation.

"Teyrn Loghain has turned his back on the king and fled the field!" Garret explained while trying to pulls his brother away as everyone was fleeing past them. "We have to go now!

"No! I'm not leaving! I will stay and fight for the king!" Carver rebutted as he pulled himself from Garret.

"The King is _dead_!" Garret yelled while yanking Carver closer to him by the collar. This wasn't an assumption this was a fact. "The battle is lost, and I'm not letting you die here because you're too stubborn to accept that we cannot win! Now, do you want to die here!?"

The defiance in Carver's eyes quickly turned to realization. No he didn't want to die here. As Carver calmed down Garret let go of him and the Hawke's fled the lost battle. They had to move and move fast. They had to reach Lothering and get their mother and sister out of there before the darkspawn overran everything. With waves of seemingly endless Hurlocks and Genlock it seemed unlikely anybody was going to escape alive.

As the two of turned and fled, trying to avoid any darkspawn they encountered the viewers of this memory were once again stunned into silence. They had all heard about the tragedy at Ostagar, but it was different seeing it first hand.

"And everyone thinks what Aedan went through at Ostagar was traumatic." Remarked Zevran

"Holy shit!" Iron bull cursed. He had always heard about the Blight but now to actually witness it made him think of how the Qunari would handle them if they ever succeeded in conquering the south. "The fact they actually escaped something this FUBAR'ed is incredible."

"They didn't, Tiny." Varric scoffed. "Trust me."

"Shit." Sera cursed in utter horror at the darkspawn's brutality. "And this would've happened to the rest of the world if Ser Eat-Other-Peoples-Bit didn't stop it."

"The battle here was worse than we thought." Ranier said, remembering that he was stationed with the Grey Wardens at Jader. Not long after they heard of the failure at Ostagar, Teyrn Loghain blocked any reinforcements from entering Fereldan's border and blamed the Wardens for their defeat and his treachery. "And not long after abandoning his post, he began to try to steal his king's throne."

"I don't thinks it's as simple as that, Ranier." Vivienne pointed out. "The battle was lost, no matter what. Even if he did bring his forces to the field, the darkspawn would still have overwhelmed them and no one would have defended this country."

"That's an irrelevant point, Madame de Fere." Ranier responded adamantly. "He abandoned his post and his king! Even if he retreated with his army to spare them annihilation, he blamed it all on the Grey Warden, dubbing the traitors and murderers. Those were the actions of a guilty man. And because of his ignorance and carelessness tens of thousand died horrible deaths!"

"As you said before, Ranier, it doesn't matter anymore." Cassandra said sadly, not looking at the field. "It happened the way it did and right or wrong, it can't be changed." Everyone took a moment to be silent for the lives lost at Ostagar as they were moved on to the next memory.

**~XoXoXo~**

The memories showed that the Hawke brothers were running as fast as the could from the battlefield, not having anytime to rest, the horde was a little less than hour behind them. They reunited with their mother and sister back at Lothering, and the whole village had already gone to hell. It turned out Teyrn Loghain had already recruited their local Bann and took his whole army with them to Denerim, leaving the village unprotected and an easy target for the Blight. Garret had barely enough time to get his family from the doomed settlement in time, and it was still too late. The family looked back on the village they lived in for so long, it broke Leandra's heart the most. Her home for over twenty years, where her children were born and raised, where her husband was buried, all of it was gone.

The Hawkes were just a few hours away from Lothering when they were surrounded by more darkspawn. Bethany stopped them with fire magic while her brothers cut them all down with their swords. Tired from all the running and fighting, the displaced family took a moment to breath.

"Maker save us, we've lost it all." Leandra said as she panted, trying so hard not to cry. "Everything your father and I built together."

"I know how much Lothering meant to you, Mother." Garret said trying to comfort her while trying getting ready to move again. "But we must keep moving."

"Yes." Leandra responded, regaining her composure. "Your right."

"We should've left sooner." Bethany pointed out. "Why did we wait so long?"

The companions took a moment to get a good look at Bethany now. She had blossomed into a lovely young woman of eighteen. A slender figure and graceful frame, a heart-shaped face complimented by coal black hair and sky blue eyes. She was truly a fine catch that the young men of Lothering didn't deserve, especially since most of them didn't wish to cross her protective older brother, nor was interested in pursuing boys due to her status as an apostate.

"Why are you looking at us!?" Carver retorted angrily. "We've been running since Ostagar!"

"It doesn't matter." Garret interjected. "We need to leave and leave now."

"Please." Leandra addressed her twins. "Listen to your brother."

"Fine." Carver said as if he lost an argument. "Lead on."

"But where are supposed to go?" Bethany called. "Where are going?"

"Away from the Darkspawn!" Carver hollered, wanting to get movie quickly. "Where else!?"

"And then where?" Bethany responded. "We can't just wonder around and hope the Blight won't make it there!"

"Look, wherever we go what's important is we don't get separated." Garret said trying to calm them both, but truthfully he had no idea where to go, or was even sure if he could protect them all. His mother knew it.

"We can go to Kirkwall." There was something Leandra never thought she would say.

"Kirkwall?" Her firstborn asked, skeptically. "Are your sure that's wise." Even in rural Fereldan they were aware of the City of Chains reputation. Kirkwall was one of the three largest and wealthiest of the Marcher cities, but word held that the Templars ruled there with absolute authority. Not healthy for a family trying to shelter an apostate. Bethany knew it.

"Kirkwall is where the Templars are at their strongest!" Bethany protested.

"I know. But we still have family there...and an estate." Leandra made it sound as if it was more of a last option than an actual plan.

"If that's the case we need to get Gwaren." Garret said and began to lead his family further southward.

Not even ten minutes of trekking further did the run into another large group of Darkspawn. Fortunately, there was a pair of fellow armed refugees there to join them in the fight. One was a Templar judging by his armor and shield. The other was the redhead officer that barked at Garret and his brother before the battle at Ostagar. As the Hawkes came over, the Templar was already injured by a Hurlock's crude blade, but before the fell creature could finish him, the ginger woman tackled it to ground and proceeded to beat the freak to death with her fists. Just the sight of it made Hawke feel attracted to her.

"You! Will! Not! Have him!" The officer yelled with each punch she landed before decapitating it with her longsword. She helped the Templar to his feet. "The will not have you." She said to him, longingly.

With that the Hawke siblings helped to rebel the darkspawn. When it was over they Bethany went to help the injured knight. "Apostate! Keep your distance!" The Templar backed away as if Bethany was a leper.

"Well, this day just keeps getting better." Bethany replied while choking out a small laugh. "If its not darkspawn threatening us, its the Templars."

"Wesley..." The red haired woman said, trying to make the man see reason. "These people just helped us."

That made this Wesley calm down, but he was still committed.

"That woman is an apostate." He continued as if he was trying to convince himself. "The Order dictates..."

"The Order isn't here. **_I_** am. And I won't let you near my sister." Garret responded, placing himself in front of the Templar with his longsword drawn threateningly.

"Wesley, they saved our live." The Lieutenant implored, placing her hand on his shoulder. "The Maker will understand."

That finally made him back down and so Hawke sheathed his weapon.

"I'm Aveline Vallen." The redheaded soldier finally introduced herself. "This is my husband, Ser Wesley. We can hate each other when this is over." Oh. So she was married. a pity, Hawke thought. He won't be hitting on her anytime at all.

"My name is Garret Hawke." The future Champion introduced. "And this is my family. We've barely managed to keep ahead of the Horde."

"And these one's are just the start." Carver continued. "Just like Ostagar."

"You where there?" Aveline questioned. "Yes. I remember now, Third Company under Captain Varel. I caught the two of you arguing."

"Then you know about how the whole army was crushed by the Blight." Carver finished.

"We fell to betrayal, not defeat." Aveline said vehemently. "This arm of the Blight won't have the same advantage."

"I won't say I no to two extra pairs of swords..." Garret offered. "So long as your husband doesn't cause my sister any grief."

"So long as we all trying to escape, we have an accord." Wesley nodded in agreement. "My sword arm is gone, even with healing." He winced as tried to move his arm up and Aveline gently brought it back down.

"Then you'll have mine, like always." Aveline said. "For now we'll travel with you. The north is completely cut off. We barely managed to escape the main body of the horde."

"Oh no." Leandra said meekly and Bethany went to comfort her.

"Then we're trapped!" Carver remarked angrily. "The wilds are to the south, that's no way out!"

"We have no choice." Garret cut Carver off. "We go south and try everything we can to avoid the horde and get to Gwaren."

"Don't you know what's in those woods!?" The younger Hawke son refused to relent.

"Shut up, Carver! And get moving!" Garret retorted. This was no time to argue and everyone else had began to follow of Hawke.

They didn't get far. In between a middle-aged mother and a severely injured Templar their pace was slowed, even more so trying to cut down every darkspawn the came across. Just as they made it to a clearing that would to lead an entrance of the Kocari Wilds, there we surrounded by hurlocks. The three warriors made quick work of any darkspawn that got to close while Bethany used ice, fire and any other spells her father taught on the ones that were further away. And that's when the ground began rumble, hard and quick, like the fast marching of an army battalion. Rushing towards them was an Ogre. Hawke had never seen one before but had heard stories of their monstrous size. How he prayed to Andraste they were just stories.

The ogre gave a large bellow that made all the lesser darkspawn back down, dominated. And then the creature began to look towards the closest thing to crush. Why did it have to be his mother...and Carver?

"Carver!" Garret called to his brother. "You and mother get back!"

The Ogre continued to growl and slowly made its to his mother and brother, like a cat about to pounce a mouse. Carver stood there, did he not hear him? Was he afraid or just being foolish? Why wasn't Garret moving? Was he afraid too? For himself or for his family? It didn't matter, Carver made the fist move and his last.

"You soulless bastards!" He cried out and attacked from overhead with his greatsword.

The fell qunari just blocked it with it's massive forearm and then grabbed his younger brother and picked him up, as if he were some ragdoll. The creature slammed poor Carver into ground not once but twice, as if to taunt his family. And then threw him passed their mother.

_**"NOOO!"**_ Garret yelled so loud it could be heard over the ogre's snarl.

"Carver!" His mother cried and rushed to her younger son as Bethany cried out in anguish.

Aveline rushed to her husband, who looked ready to faint from blood loss and Bethany, distraught from what the ogre did to her twin, began to rain whatever spell she could on it and it began to make it's way over to her. Garret wasn't going to lose another sibling.

Hawke remembered his trump card. "Over here, you son of a bitch!"

The ogre heard Hawke's challenged and came lumbering towards him, to visit the same fate it dealt his brother. Hawke had do this quick but had to time it just right. With a precise and deft flick of his wrist, a small, sleek black dagger flew from Garret's hand and right into the horrid beast's left eye. As the creature began to bellow and roar in pain and anger, Hawke saw his opportunity to finish it off. He charged the half-blind ogre as fast as he could, and as the beast grabbed it's own head with both hands in agony, Hawke leapt into the air with his longsword and with all his might jammed it into the ogre's heart. Again it roared an unnatural screech, but Hawke was not done. As he hung in the air, holding desperately to his sword, he could feel the feverish heat that radiated from the ogre and it's presence made him want to vomit. Before the muscular monster could regain itself, Hawke, with both hands on his sword, pulled himself downward using his weight. He could feel the creature's black blood spurt out from the trench he made in the ogre's chest and he felt the blade slice and break upon the muscle that was the darkspawn's heart.

Hawke quickly jumped off and scurried away to find a new weapon. As he stood back up he watched the damned thing still standing, still screaming and still bleeding like a stuck pig. Blood spurted everywhere, from it's chest, mouth and head. Giving one final angry howl it fell backwards on it's back. Garret wasn't leaving anything to chance and still owed the beast for his brother. Picking up Carver's greatsword from where it fell, Hawke jumped up and the tainted giant's chest once more and plunged all five feet of blade into the monster's skull. The ogre gave one last pathetic screech and was finally dead.

Garret looked around to see his sister, Aveline and even Wesley in awe at what he had accomplished by himself. Most normal men would've revealed in such a feat, but Hawke had no time for it. He joined Bethany in joining their mother in seeing to Carver.

"Carver?" Leandra wept as she tried to rouse her little boy. "Carver, sweetheart, please, wake up! It's over, we're fine!"

Bethany gave a sharp, horrified gasp as she saw the horrid state her brother's body was in. Garret was just as horrified. Carver's arms and legs had been broken and bent out place, with a sharp stump bone sticking out on at least one of each limb. The most disturbing black to look was his head. Half of his face had been scraped off and there was a small pool of blood towards the back of his head. Garret wouldn't dare say it but he could tell the back of his brother's skull was smashed.

Seeing that, Garret couldn't say anything, Aveline thought it would be best if she did, if but to spare the Hawke's anymore emotional turmoil. "I'm sorry, Madame. Your son is gone."

"No! These things...will not have him!" Leandra cried in anguish.

"Mother, please." Bethany was already crying and trying so hard not to sob. "Carver wouldn't want us to...stay here."

There was no time, they had to leave now, but mother loved her children so much, she could never abandon them, not even in their death.

"Mother, you must save your grief." Garret tried sway his mother without sounding callous. "We have to leave now."

"Don't you dare speak to me about grief!" Leandra lashed out at her eldest as if she were speaking to a stranger. "How could you let him run off like that!? Your little brother! My little boy." Leandra cradled Carver's head in her lap and wept over his body.

"Mistress, please." Wesley began, sounding sympathetic. "Allow me to commend your son to the Maker." Leandra nodded sadly, and the warrior priest began the prayers. "Ashes we were and ashes we become. Maker, give this young man a place at your side. Let us take comfort in the peace he has found in eternity."

Leandra kissed her younger son's head one last time. "I will never forget you, Carver."

Garret felt they should have more time to mourn, but the damened Blight wouldn't permit them.

"Carver wouldn't want us to make his death meaningless." That was best he could say at the moment as he lifted his brothers sword. "Let's go!"

"Blood and flames!" Aveline cursed, baring her sword and shield. The darkspawn had surrounded all of them. There was no way out. They were trapped.

Then they heard a great roar, one that would put even an army of ogres to shame. Looking behind them, they saw emerging from a tall hill, a High Dragon, one of the mightiest creatures ever to grace Thedas. The situation hadn't improved, in Hawke's mind; either to be fodder for the darkspawn of food for the dragon, but it would seem the Maker had finally shown them His favor.

The dragon nosedived towards the darkspawn, fire streaming from it's maw. As she glided above them, she thrashed at the darkspawn with her claws, rising again in the air with several Hurlock in her jaws, dropping them back down to earth from a high height. She landed on the ground with a resounding crash and began law fire on the horde and those that were fortunate to avoid it's breath were crushed by her claws or sent flying by her tail.

The surviving darkspawn realized this was a fight the couldn't win, and all fled. Hawke was still frightened; now that the spawn had fled that just left them to face the High Dragon. Hawke and Aveline took a stance and Bethany prepared a spell as the dragon walked towards them. Strange, the beast didn't act hostile or hungry. Instead it just stared at all of them as if curious and perhaps...amused?

The High Dragon wrapped her body with her wings, then a great wind swept around her. Light sparked from her body, shining through the membranes of her wings, and the beast seemed to shrink in size before a great, golden light sprung from the dragon, Hawke and the others shielded their eyes to not be blinded. Then a new figure emerged from the fires, carrying a dead Hurlock in it's grasp before letting it fall dead to the ground. It was...a woman?

"Well, well, what have we here?" She asked in a coy, amused tone. Before any of the companions could get a good look at her, the memory faded.

"What? That's it?" Sera asked. "Who was that lady?"

"That, my dear Buttercup, was Flemeth." Varric answered.

"The Witch of the Wilds?" Dorian asked surprised. Even in the Tevinter they've heard of Flemeth and her infamous daughters.

"Trust me, Sparkler. I saw her just once and I could never forget someone so...ominous" Varric confirmed.

"It's true." Zevran added. "Aedan and Alistair told me they were rescued by Flemeth herself from the Tower of Ishal."

"That was so horrible." Cassandra replied. "Having to witness your entire life destroyed. Fleeing your home, watching your family killed and having to leave to a new country just to survive."

"Yeah." Varric sighed. "Nobody ever said it, but for a while Leandra blamed Hawke for his brother's death and that just hurt him even more. And having to live in the pits of Kirkwall didn't help either."

"But that changed, yeah?" Sera chirped in. "My Friends their told me how a big shot named Hawke was living the high life while helping the little guys."

"Somehow I doubt he was rich fresh of the boat, Sera." Ranier pointed out.

"That's true. As soon as he met his dear uncle, Gamlen, they all learned how the family fortune was wasted on stupid shit and how Gamlen sold their ancestral estate just to pay of his debts." Varric informed. "Believe me, Hawke had to work hard to get to up in the world. The _Fereldan way_, he'd call it."

"He was filled with regret." Cole spoke all of sudden. "He witnessed his brother's death and couldn't stop it. They were never close and now they will never have a chance to make peace with each other. He can't lose his family again. He has to protect what he has left."

As Cole interpreted how his friend felt, Varric just looked sadder. "His misfortunes aren't over yet. Thing are gonna get worse before they ever get better. I think we all know that as a fact."

**~XoXoXo~**

The memories shifted, yet again. This time they were in a large city square. The streets were full to bursting with citizens coming and going through the market district, merchant's of every kind showing off their wears to whole crowds of people. The companions would've hade a hard time navigating through such crowded street if they weren't incorporeal. The walls and columns were made of marble and hard, white stone and the roads seemed to be carved, polished marble. Aside from the bronze statues of men in chains holding a woeful form, this city seemed nothing like how the imagine the place were the Mage-Templar war began.

"Ah! Welcome to my backyard!" Varric exclaimed, happy to be back home, even if it was just a memory. "Everyone, welcome to Kirkwall! One of the largest and richest cities in the Free Marches, now ruled by yours truly."

"Some of us have been here before, Varric." Cassandra pointed out.

"Huh. From all the things I've heard about the City of Chains, I expected everyone to be dismal and woeful." Dorian commented, surprised. "Instead, I see merchants selling, people buying, and coins exchanging. This doesn't seem all that bad."

"You're only seeing Hightown, Sparkler." The Viscount replied. "Believe me, in the lower districts things are much worse. Hell, things aren't all that great up here either."

"Yes." Vivienne confirmed. Being an experienced player of The Game she could read a lot about people. "All this spending and buying you see right now is to distract the young nobles, their wives and children from the harsh reality. Having a weak ruler and sharing your city with a small army of Qunari can't be good for the morale. No offense, Iron Bull."

"Oh. None taken." Iron Bull half chortled. "I'm not a Qunari anymore. Though, I would like to see how all those guys did here."

"Not well, Tiny." Varric answered dismally. "Not well at all."

"So, how did our favorite Champion get into this city." Zevran asked. "I'm not trying to sound rude but, how does a Fereldan refugee with no coin and a small family come in here. I doubt Kirkwall was all that anxious to let so many fleeing citizens when this place already looks full to bursting."

"You couldn't be more right, Shanks." The beardless dwarf confirmed. "Since Gamlen wasted the Amell name and fortune, Hawke and Bethany had to go into indentured service with a local smuggler gang."

"Wait a minute, that wasn't in your novel." Ranier pointed out.

"Somethings are best left unsaid, Hero. Less incriminating that way." Varric said under his breath. "Anyway, the two of them worked for a smuggler named Athenril for about a year. After said year was done, they were out of work and had to find some way to make coin and make sure Bethany had protection from the Templars."

**~XoXoXo~**

The company was now in some dirty hovel in, what they could guess, was Lowtown. They found there, of all things, a Chantry Sister. She had trimmed blonde hair with a narrow face. She had a natural prettiness to her, but sadly is was covered by the urgent scowl on her face. She had a companion with here, a Templar, that had his own unique brand of ugliness; he had a large square head, with a jutting forehead and prominent chin under huge, gaped teeth. As if to intentionally enhance his homeliness, his hair was shaved around his head, while the top tried, desperately, to imitate the stem of a carrot.

"Now, be quick but be thorough, Ser Varnel. There mustn't be any trace of us ever being here." The Chantry Sister commanded, not noticing a very displeased Garret walking in though the door with his friends in tow, looking equally pissed.

"Leaving so soon, Sister Petrice?" Hawke asked accusingly, crossing his arms.

"Hawke? H-Hawke! It was Hawke, wasn't it?" The Chantry Sister stuttered, greatly surprised to see the refugee. "You... took the Qunari from the city? Without incident?"

"Drop the act." Aveline demanded, threateningly. "We already know you set us up."

"Mind your tongue, Fereldan." The Templar barked.

"Please, do speak your mind." Petrice beckoned, motioning her guard to silence, whilst in an arrogant tone. There was no point in maintaining this charade.

"You set up the bodies of that Sarebaas' Karetaam right to us, to make it seem like we were the ones that killed them, so the Qunari, in turn, would kill us." Hawke declared, this wasn't an accusation, all of the facts said by Ketojen and Arvaarad were no coincidences.

"You return speaking their heathen language and seek to lecture me?" Petrice rebutted, as if she was the offended party.

"I return with my sword bared, demanding answers." Hawke replied, calmly, but drawing his sword. He was no one's fool.

That seemed to register with the fanatic, but she remained calm and tried to maintain control. "If you were slain by the Qunari, whilst training to help their slave, yes, someone might have found that useful. It would have cast doubt on appeasement, so your death might have been a...tragic necessity. Perhaps..."

"Enough with the ifs, perhaps, and maybes, woman." Garret ordered sternly. He had heard enough of her rhetoric. "Your an idiot that want's to incite violence against the Qunari, hoping it will oust them."

"And you're a mercenary sympathizer, that has no idea of the stakes at hand." The Sister remarked in a superior tone. "Take your coin and slink back into the refuse. The next time I seek to do the Maker's work, I shall not look outside the faithful again." Petrice finished, tossing a bag of gold towards Hawke that he caught in mid-air.

Garret felt the weight of his payment, but now she just made it personal. Hawke was, indeed, a religious man. He had always attended Mass with his mother and siblings, even here in Kirkwall. But he was always also a mindful man. His father once told him that a man's religion, regardless of what it was, was between him and his deity. He had no right pass judgement on another's belief's and neither did this zealous sister, looking to use violence against the Qunari, in the name of the Maker.

"You set me up to be murdered in the name of bigotry, Petrice." Hawke declared. "Now I want _DOUBLE_ this amount."

"You're as unfaithful as you are greedy, you filthy Qunari, dog-lord!" Varnel growled, drawing his blade. Not smart, because then Hawke's friends drew their weapons and got spells ready. Petrice could tell the odds weren't in the favor.

"You dare to extort a member of the Chantry? Are you truly looking to make an enemy of the Faithful, Hawke?" Petrice glared angrily.

"Of the Faithful? No." Hawke clarified. "But you certainly made an enemy out of me. And now, I want _TRIPLE_ this amount, for your Templar's poor attitude."

The Chantry sister was looking very nervous. "You there! Guard! If this heathen attacks, you must defend us."

Aveline crossed her arms and showed no inclination to aid the lying Chantry sister. "Nope. I don't think so. I could very well arrest the both of you for conspiracy to commit murder. Imagine how that will affect your cause."

"This whole thing is pointless, Hawke." Fenris replied. "We should just kill them both and hide their corpses."

"I know a perfect place in the sewers we can dump their bodies." Anders spoke out in agreement.

"Here, here!" Isabella said cheerily.

"Do you really think the Chantry will notice two of it's most prominent servants have disappeared!?" Petrice demanded, trying to maintain a strong face.

"Believe me, Sister, it wouldn't surprise anyone." Varric informed. "Just another couple'a dead do-gooders, lost to Lowtown.

Petrice was beginning to realize that this whole this was out of her depth, the next time she acted for Maker, she would need more of the true and believing servants. For now, she had to get out of the situation she was in. "I don't have that amount."

"It just isn't your day then, now is it?" Anders glowered.

"Fine." Hawke said, surprising them all. "Your Templars arms and armor. Give them to me."

"Are you serious?" Petrice asked incredulously.

"As the Blight." Hawke confirmed sternly. "Templar arms and armor are of very high quality and a good fence could fetch me a high price. Besides, it's not like it would've done him any good anyway."

The veins in Varnel's head looked full to bursting, but Petrice gave him a calm look and nodded. The Templar began to strip his armor without a word, but his face said it all. He left them on a pile behind him and tried to usher his charge out quickly.

"Spend it well, Hawke." Petrice called out as she began to exit. "The Judgement comes faster than one might expect."

A black knife flew right passed her face, and Hawke was in no further mood for debate. "Your going to face my judgment if you're not gone in the next minute."

"So...now what do we do?" Merrill asked innocently.

"Varric, Isabela, Anders, take the Templar's armor and see who will buy it at the best price. The rest of us will go straight to Qunari Compound and explain this to the Arishok." Hawke stated.

"Are sure that's a smart move, Garret?" Bethany asked. "Won't this whole thing just make him angry?"

"We need to explain to him why a small band of his soldiers and his Sarebaas are missing. He could very well find out about this, and would be even angrier that we tried to sweep it under the rug. I'd rather inform him of what really happened and avoid some sort of reprisal." The future Champion explained.

"I agree." Aveline said. "Better he knows the full story, than cause trouble trying to find out what happened."

The memory ended there and the whole company just stood there trying to understand what happened.

"Okay, who the hell was that and what has any of this got do with the Qunari?" Asked Zevran.

"Petrice, an official of the Chantry." Their Varric answered disdainfully. "Long story short, she was a zealot that had been stirring the feelings of the people against Qunari for years, and pretty soon began inciting violence against them."

"We've heard of people like her." Cassandra added. "Many within the Chantry see the Qun as a challenge, if not a threat."

"Yeah, well, when she took the challenge to heart." Varric wasn't finished. "Years of propaganda against the Qunari and people all of the Kirkwall converting to Qun, hoping for a better life, finally set her over. Tired of Hawke's constant interference and viewing him as a Qunari himself, she murdered Viscount's Dumar's son and tried pinning Hawke for it."

"The shit!" Sera cursed. "The hell she do that for?"

"Seamus was a recent Qunari convert, if the son of the Viscount converted how many more would follow his example." The deshyr explained.

"Not to stray off track or sound a like dick, but what happened to that Sarebaas, their Ketojen?" Iron Bull asked.

"He explained that he couldn't live outside the Qun, nor could he return to them with the possibility of attracting a demon, so he lit himself on fire and died." informed Varric.

"Damn." The former Ben-Hassrath cursed sadly. " The sarebaas have a raw deal in the Qun, either their loyal and faithful to the Qun or their bitter and angry."

"Well this guy sure as shit wasn't bitter about in the Qun." Varric went on. "And this guy had his lips and eyes sewn shut, with a collar chains around his neck."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Iron Bull didn't want to argue. "No religion is perfect, this part in the Champ's memories certainly prove that."

"What ever became of that bitch?" Ranier asked. "Someone like her couldn't have prospered with the Champion as an enemy."

"You couldn't be more right, Hero." Varric confirmed. "Like I said she tried to blame Hawke for Seamus' murder to Grand Cleric Elthina, but she'd been aware of Petrice's misgivings earlier and Hawke was known to an honest goody-goody. So instead she stripped Petrice of her rank in the Chantry, and allowed Hawke and Aveline to arrest her."

"Wow." Dorian huffed. "The very religion she committed murder for left her high and dry. Sounds poetic."

"Yeah, especially the part where she was killed by a Qunari archer, right before Hawke and Aveline could arrest her." Varric informed. "After that feelings against the Qunari got worse, if the could kill someone for breaking the city's own laws, what else could the do?"

**XoXoXoXo**

The memory shifted away from the rundown hovel where Hawke extorted Petrice. They found themselves on the outskirts of Kirkwall. Not at the docks where the giant chains leading from the immense weeping statues of slaves were at to greet oncoming ships, but just outside the entrance to the rest of the Free Marches. Walking over the hills on the dusty trail leading to the City of Chains was Hawke and several of his companions. Hawke, Merrill, Isabella, Fenris, Anders, and of course Varric.

All of them looked like they'd been through one horrible ordeal. Their clothing and armor was in tatters, all covered in dirt and mud, looked as though none of them had bathed or had a decent night's sleep in at least two weeks. However, despite their fatigue and ragged appearance, there were wide smiles on all their faces. After what must have been a terrible venture, it was finally good to be back in foul-smelling, corrupt, yet so familiar Kirkwall.

None smiled as brightly and victoriously as Garret Hawke. The reason for his sense of jubilation was slung over his shoulder in a massive sack so heavy that lesser men would have collapsed under its weight, but Hawke would not let something as meaningless fatigue keep him from getting home. If anything, carrying the sack's weight only served to make him walk faster to his destination.

"Now what is this? It looks as though Ser Hawke and his compatriots have been rolling in dirt and haven't even bothered to bathe in weeks." Vivienne observed with a raised eyebrow.

"You got that right, Madame Vivienne." Varric answered, looking on the memory of himself and his friends with deep nostalgia. "I could never forget this day. It set us down the road to everything that happened in Kirkwall."

"And what day was that?" Zevran inquired curiously.

"The day we left the Deep Roads with enough gold to fix an economy." Varric answered without a hint of sarcasm.

"I remember this from when you told Hawke's story." Cassandra recalled. "It was when you and Hawke went into the Deep Roads to search for treasure, and found that Primeval Thaig."

"Yeah, it was also when we found that damned red lyrium idol that my brother Bartrand left us to die to have." Varric said with disappointment and regret. "But we came out of that damned hole rich men, richer than my family ever was back when we were nobles in Orzammar. Everything that led to the Mage-Templar crisis started today, and Hawke's grudge began."

"Grudge? What grudge?" Cassandra asked.

"Just keep watching Seeker. You'll see." Varric assured with a sense of regret in his voice.

All of Hawke's companions went their separate ways to finally find some relaxation. After being trapped in the Deep Roads and forced to fight its horrible denizens, they had more than earned it. He left the treasure they were able to take with them with Varric, he knew who would pay the best price for what they found. No longer being burdened by the treasure or fear of the Deep Roads, Hawke practically raced back down to Gamlen's hovel in Lowtown.

He didn't care that he was caked in blood and reeked to high heaven, because after today, his family's troubles were over. No more smuggling and working for the scum of the city to make ends meet, no more living in shame of where they were, or in fear of being discovered by the Templars. And best of all, no more Gamlen. After a year of eking a living in the pits of society, Hawke can fulfill his promise to his father, and give his family the life they deserved. It was the least he could do after failing to save Carver.

Garret ran past everyone in Lowtown and made it to the sorry excuse that was his uncle's house. The thought of his mother and sister's faces when they saw him filled Garret with unbridled anticipation.

"Mother! Bethany! We did it! The venture paid off! We never have to worry about money again!" Hawke shouted as he burst through the door, unable to restrain his excitement any more. What felt like a burning knife buried deep in his chest quickly killed all sense of joy and replaced it with dread the instant he walked into the house. His mother, sister and uncle were all there to greet him, with a group of Templars with them. Cullen was there with them.

"Uh-oh. This doesn't look good." Iron Bull observed.

"Oh, you don't know the half of it, Tiny." Varric assured, a sad look covering his face as he watched the scene unfold before him.

"This was when Hawke's sister was taken to the Circle, isn't it?" Cassandra realized.

"Yeah." Varric answered melancholically. "Everything just wasn't the same without Sunshine around."

"What's going on here?" Hawke blatantly demanded the Templars.

Cullen stepped forward, his face stern and unapologetic. "Mistress Bethany is being taken to the Circle of Magi in the Gallows."

All feelings of joy and celebration inside Hawke instantly died and replaced by anger and outrage. After everything he had gone through just to get back to his family, and the Templars dared to break his family apart even further.

"You're not taking my sister anywhere!" Hawke shouted so furiously his voice rang out from the dingy hovel and echoed throughout Lowtown.

"Serrah Hawke, please, be reasonable. You know that this is what is supposed to happen." Cullen said calmly, trying to rationalize with his fellow Fereldan.

Hawke drew the dwarven steel longsword from his hip and flashed it at the Templars, ready to decorate Gamlen's shack with their blood. "You come into my family's home, tell me that you're going to take my sister to that sorry prison you call a Circle like it's nothing, and have the gall to ask me to be reasonable!? I've spent the last few weeks killing things far worse than Templars, and I didn't go through all that just to let you take my sister from us now!"

Cullen and the Templars went for their weapons, refusing to let Hawke's emotional fit interfere with their duty, and Hawke refused to let these Templar bastards damn his sister to the Gallows. It seemed like a bloody confrontation was unavoidable, and people were going to die, until Bethany stood between her brother and the Templars, and placed her hand on Garret's sword arm.

"Garret, please, stop this now." Bethany beseeched earnestly. "It's done. I don't anyone to die on my behalf."

Hawke looked at his last remaining sibling pleadingly, unable to let her go. "Bethany, please..."

Bethany shook her head. Her mind was made up, and she would not let her fate undo what her brother accomplished. "No, Big Brother. I've accepted what's happened, you must, too. Maybe this is for the best. I'm tired of hiding in the shadows, scared to show who and what I am. It's time I found my own life."

Hawke's face twisted with emotion. He went through hell to provide for his family and keep his sister safe, and he failed miserably, again. Just like with Carver. Hawke finally relented and sheathed his sword, honoring his sister's wish. He hugged his sister close to him, one last time. Maker knows if he'd be able to see her again after today.

Cullen and his Templars withdrew their weapons when they were confident Hawke wasn't going to be a threat. Having siblings of his own, Cullen understood Hawke's anger, but he wouldn't apologize for carrying out his duty. "Consider yourselves fortunate. Her cooperation allows us to spares you from punishment for harboring a dangerous mage, this once."

Hawke flashed an angry glare at Cullen and instinctively went for his sword again at Cullen's insensitive tone, but refrained on his sister's behalf.

Leandra hurried to her daughter's side with the worry only a mother could have for her child. She hugged her daughter as close as possible, as if that would make her stay. "Oh, Bethany, what's going to happen to you?"

"Don't worry, Mother. I'll be fine." Bethany assured, trying to convince herself as much as her mother. She turned her attention back to her older brother, that pleading look still in her eyes. "Garret, please take care of her."

Hawke joined his mother and hugged his sister one last time, guilt and shame welling up inside him for failing her. "I'm sorry, Bethany. I failed you."

"No, you did not fail me. This wasn't your fault. It was no one's fault." Bethany promised, knowing the guilt her brother was feeling right now. She took a deep breath to find her courage, and quietly walked out with the Templars.

Leandra fell to her knees on the floor and cried in grief as she helplessly watched another of her children being taken from her. Hawke went to his mother and held her gently while Gamlen placed a caring hand on his sister's shoulder. As Hawke watched the Templars take his sister away like it was nothing, a spark of anger awoke inside him. The Templars never noticed the vengeful glare the future Champion gave them, but Varric and the others did. It was almost the same as Aedan's Cousland's, as close as anyone could get.

"Maker...suddenly I don't feel too bad about when the Champion punched out Cullen back in Skyhold two years ago." Dorian said sympathetically.

"What a bunch of pricks!" Sera said with disgust. "I mean, there he was, all happy and everything, then those guy in their skirts and fancy armor take a big, fat shit on his family."

"I had a sister once, her name was Liddy." Ranier said sorrowfully. "She died of a fever when she was very young. I would have done anything to protect her, just like the Champion."

"Except the Champion's sister was taken away by some terrible illness, she was_ stolen_ from her family." Zevran stated disdainfully. "By Cullen of all people. I still remember when the man was trapped in the Fereldan Circle, crying like a little girl."

"I sympathize with what happened to the Champion's family, I truly do, but the Templars were simply carrying out their duty, and it was probably for the best." Vivienne spoke out in her usual calm, almost cold demeanor. "Too many times has such sentimentalities led to magical disasters where many innocent people paid the price. Bethany was wise to go to the Circle willingly."

"Yeah, straight into the loving and merciful arms of the most paranoid, ruthless zealot in all of Thedas. I'm sure living under the same roof as Meredith must have been an utter joy for Bethany." Varric said satirically, and looked up at Vivienne with anger. "Vivienne, you've got no idea what you're even talking about. Bethany was no misguided child who needed to be schooled, or a walking danger to others, you saw yourself how well her father trained her. You have no idea what Hawke went through to try and keep his sister safe! He went further into the Deep Roads than even the Wardens could dream of, killed scores of darkspawn, demons and rock-wraiths to bring back that treasure and give his family a good life! Who were the Templars to just take that from him!?"

Everyone was taken back Varric's unusual outburst of anger. Apparently, Vivienne had stepped on a raw nerve. Even after over a decade since this memory occurred, it was still a source of pain for the dwarven rogue.

"While certain people here got to go around sipping wine, or rub elbows with the Chantry's most powerful, good people like Bethany and her family were suffering from Meredith's tyranny and lunacy! And none of you gave a single nug-shit about what was going on here until it became an inconvenience for you life. So don't you dare act as if what happened here was some minor misfortune. Don't even go there!" Varric finished angrily getting his point across.

Vivienne didn't know whether to be shocked or impressed with Varric's sudden outburst. She didn't realize that he was capable of being this loud, given his stature, or was this sensitive on the subject. "My dear Viscount, I'm sorry if what I said offended, but the fact of the matter is..."

Vivienne's self-righteous explanation was cut very short when she felt a certain strong hand grip her shoulder firmly, warning her to be quiet. It was the sword hand of Seeker Cassandra. "Vivienne, that's enough. You are hardly one to judge what happened to the Champion's family, and it's despicable for you to use this tragedy as another means to justify your own agenda. I thought the very same thing when I first heard this story, and I was wrong. This is just one more reminder as to how we failed to protect the innocent, and instead made victims of them."

**~XoXoXo~**

The world warped around them, and the magic of this strange place took them to yet another memory in Hawke's life. They found themselves standing in some kind of giant stone tower in the middle of nowhere. It was a massive monolith of solid rock, erected like a dead bone jutting out from the ground, but was hidden from the sight of the world by the wall of arid mountains that covered the landscape. It was hidden in plain sight in a wasteland that none dared inhabit.

"Where...where are we now?" Dorian asked curiously.

"If I was to guess, I'd say we're still in the Free Marches." Iron Bull observed as he took in the landscape around them.

"We're in the middle of the Vimmark mountains, just north of Kirkwall, over a pass that leads straight into the Deep Roads." Varric said, his hands shaking and his face turning pale.

"Master Tethras, what's wrong? You look as though you've seen a ghost." Zevran asked curiously.

"How's about a darkspawn magister!?" Varric shouted pointing behind them.

Everyone turned around to see the object of Varric's fear, and were instantly filled with the same sense of horror that would cause other lesser people to die of fright. It was Corypheus, the Elder One, and he was preparing to attack. All of them instinctively went for their weapons as the apex of evil stood before them. They had all faced his power before and lost, but they would not be easy marks for him. Just as Corypheus summoned an extremely powerful beam of red destructive energy at them, Hawke jumped between them and Corypheus' attack, deflecting the column of red energy with an enchanted shield bearing his family crest.

"Burn you miserable insect! Your blood is my key to freedom!" Corypheus yelled as he furiously unleashed his magic on Hawke.

"You're going to have to do a lot better than that if you want either, you vile thing!" Hawke shouted from behind his shield. Corypheus wanted his blood, which made Hawke the perfect distraction. While this darkspawn monstrosity was focused on him, it gave his companions the opportunity they needed to use their own strengths against the creature. "Hit him with everything you've got! NOW!"

Sebastian and Varric loosed their arrows as rapidly as possible, aiming right for the tainted abomination's eyes. Merrill and Anders fought fire with fire and unleashed their own magic on Corypheus, Anders' spirit magic and Merrill's Dalish spells combined with her bloodmagic. Fenris' lyrium tattoos burned like torches on his skin as he unleashed all his years of repressed anger and disgust for Tevinter on this progenitor of the Blights, and slashed at Corypheus with his greatsword with astounding speed, cutting him deeply. Isabella threw a swarm of daggers at Corypheus, each one lodging deep in his wretched body. Aveline delivered the coup de gras by charging the ancient darkspawn and planting her sword deep in its vile being with all her might.

**"ENOUGH!"** Corypheus roared furiously. He clasped his hands together and unleashed a shockwave of concussive energy that matched the power of an earthquake and sent them all flying back. The force was so powerful it shattered the ground. Their efforts to harm him were meaningless, as Corypheus used his magic to quickly heal all the wounds they inflicted on him.

Hawke had shielded himself from Corypheus' counterattack and watched helplessly as his comrades were sent flying backwards, and Corypheus began to heal himself. Despite his power, Hawke knew this creature was still weak after being dormant for over a thousand years, and despite the power of his magic, it was outdated. Magic had evolved sine the days of the Ancient Imperium, and Hawke knew how to fight against the Primal School of Magic Corypheus was using. The only problem was being able to actually harm this monster. Thankfully, Hawke held the only weapon that could harm Corypheus, the very thing that had imprisoned him: his father's Keyblade.

Cassandra and the others watched as Hawke engaged Corypheus on his own. It took them a moment to finally calm down and realize that this was just another memory. Even after being dead for two years, none of them could forget the Elder One's power, and the thought of him being alive again was almost too much to bear.

"So, this is when Hawke first fought Corypheus in the tower the Grey Wardens imprisoned him in." Cassandra realized, remembering how Varric told her this story.

"Yep." Varric said, recollecting himself. "This is how the nightmare started."

"How in Andraste's holy name did the Champion end up in such horrid place and unleashing such a horrid creature?" Dorian asked.

"Long story, Sparkler." Varric answered. "Basically, the Grey Wardens imprisoned Corypheus here after the First Blight, but they needed Malcolm Hawke's blood to strengthen the seal. Corypheus used his power over the taint to corrupt a group of Grey Wardens and Carta gangsters to lure Hawke here so he could be freed from his prison. The Grey Warden who forced Malcolm to seal Corypheus, Warden-Commander Larius, was now a twitchy ghoul and led us to Corypheus, it was our only way out. We were forced to kill Janeka, the Warden who wanted to free Corypheus, and her Carta lackeys. And the only way out of this forsaken place was through the very cause of all the Blights." Varric paused a moment as a wide, proud smile spread across his face. "Hawke and Sunshine kicked his fucking ass."

"No kidding. Just look at them!" Iron Bull pointed to the battle between the Elder One and future Champion and his sister, his single eye filled with amazement.

Everyone watched in admiration as Hawke and Bethany stood fought against this terrible foe. It was like watching a well choreographed play unfold before them, and as they were the audience, they couldn't help but be awed by how in tune with each other's movements the Hawke siblings were. Their respective styles complimented each other flawlessly, each a reflection of their father's training.

Corypheus knew his only path to freedom was through one of these two, he would kill one and use the other. Neither of Malcolm's children made it easy on him. Bethany unleashed all the magic her father taught her on Corypheus, using the style of the Force Mage, she drew Corypheus' attention away from her brother by usingWhi the very powers of gravity against him to crush his body and slow his actions. She would not let this creature harm her brother.

While his sister kept Corypheus distracted with her magic, Garret attacked the tainted monstrosity head on with the Keyblade, his father's legacy. The weight of the sword enhanced the power of the swing while it's sickly-shaped end carved even deeper in Corypheus' disease-ridden flesh, and the flame enchantments on the sword cauterized the wound, making it impossible to heal, even with magic. Hawke deflected the magister's primal attacks with his family's enchanted shield, then exploited every opening he made. Corypheus' magic was powerful. Hawke couldn't give an inch or be caught off guard, not for an instant. This creature threatened his family, forced his father to go against everything he believed in by using bloodmagic. Hawke would slay this monster, and finish what his father started.

Cassandra and the others watched as the two Hawke siblings engaged Corypheus, and were amazed by not only their effective synchronization, but also just how weak Corypheus was compared to when they fought him, when he destroyed Haven and attacked the Temple of Mythal. He wasn't nearly as powerful. Then they all realized that at this time, Corypheus didn't have the Orb of Destruction to empower him. Solas said that it drew on the power of the elven gods, and Cassandra began to wonder just how powerful they truly were. It was no wonder Solas was so upset when it was destroyed; with that kind of power, the elves could have overthrown humanity.

Hawke deflected another blast of magic energy Corypheus hurled at him, redirecting it right back at him. Corypheus own magic turned on him, causing him terrible pain. Hawke found the opening he needed, and charged the towering darkspawn creature, cleaving him from neck to navel. Corypheus cried in agony as his torso opened, his black, tainted innards falling out, and collapsed to his knees. It was time to finish this.

Hawke loomed over the tainted monster. If this thing truly assaulted the Golden City, it was Hawke's duty as an Andrastian to slay it. Corypheus looked up at him, and sick, twisted grin spread on his foul face, like the creature was taunting him. Hawke used the sickly end of his sword to rend Corypheus' vile head from his body in one deft stroke, knocking that smile off his face in the process.

Hawk looked down on Corypheus' dead body, his mind deep in thought. Was this truly one of the Magister's that broke into the Golden City? Was what it said true, that Golden City was black and full of decay? It didn't matter, not to Hawke. This thing was a threat to his family, and Hawke stopped it, he had completed his father's mission. Hawke looked at the Keyblade in his hand, and raised it to his head reverently.

"That was for you, and all you did for us, Father." Hawke spoke like a prayer.

**~XoXoXo~**

The memory of Hawke's victory over Corypheus faded into blackness, and Varric and the others found themselves standing nowhere once again. Even after the memory had passed, all of them were still standing in awe by what they had witnessed.

"Holy shit, that was awesome!" Iron Bull hollered excitedly.

"And I thought watching the Champion kill an entire hit squad of Antivan Crows was impressive. That was something else!" Zevran stated, sharing Bull's enthusiasm.

"It was brilliant, yeah?" Sera said, getting hyper. "I mean, Coryphy-nuts didn't stand a chance!"

"And did you see his sister's magic? It was magnificent." Dorian said with admiration. "I've never seen a mage with such control over Force-type spells."

"They came here together, family, friends, and lovers, to defend those they cared about. Corypheus didn't know how strong they were until it was too late." Cole said empathically.

"It was extremely impressive, I cannot deny that..." Vivienne said honestly. "But, it was all for naught, as we've all seen. The Champion didn't slay Corypheus, only delayed him. If the Champion actually had the means to slay the creature, everything that happened to years ago would never have come to pass."

"More than that, did any of you notice how much weaker Corypheus was compared to when we fought him?" Cassandra spoke informally. "At Haven and the Temple of Mythal, he was infinitely more powerful than this, even Rajmael wasn't a match for him."

"It was the Orb, remember?" Dorian recalled. "Solas said that it channeled the power of the ancient elven gods. Corypheus harnessed that power to increase his own power."

"If that thing channeled their power, then just how powerful were the Evanuris themselves?" Ranier wondered.

"None of that matters. Not here, anyway." Varric spoke out somberly. "Hawke didn't fail here, he did what he set out to do: protect those he loved. That, as far as I'm concerned, is the noblest of all goals."

**~XoXoXo~**

The environment once again shifted around them, placing them in yet another memory of Hawke's life long since passed. Why they were witnessing such things, why they were being allowed to peer into his life, as they did with Aedan, none of them knew. They found themselves standing outside the Kirkwall Chantry, a many torches had been lit and many people had gathered, their faces forlorn and full of sadness. None sadder or more bitter than Garret Hawke, who stood at the head of the gathering, his face twisted with grief, try as he might to hide it as he stood before a large, unlit stack of wood meant for a pyre.

"Oh, no...no. Not this again." Varric said, his face matching Hawke's sadness, and turned his back away from the memory.

"Varric? What's wrong?" Cassandra asked concernedly, wondering what kind of memory this was that even Hawke's best friend couldn't bare to look on it.

Varric face fell into his hand, to keep himself from seeing the memory, or to keep his comrades from seeing him like this. "I'm sorry, Seeker. I already saw this once, I don't need to see it again."

Grand Cleric Elthina and a procession of her flock walked out of the Chantry, carrying a coffin between them, and set it on the unlit pyre. On the coffin there was an inscription clearly written, and Cassandra suddenly realized what was happening, why Hawke was so tormented, why Varric couldn't bare to look.

_**Leandra Hawke of House Amell**_

_**Beloved Wife, Mother, Daughter, Sister.**_

_**She Loved Many, And Was Loved By Them.**_

This was Leandra Hawke's funeral, after she was horribly murdered by the insane Maleficar, Quentin. How could Cassandra have forgotten that story? A sense of guilt came over Cassandra, realizing just how profound this moment was. This was one of the worst days in Hawke's life, yet none of them ever cared to know how it effected him. In her search for Hawke, she never took a moment to understand how much his family had suffered.

Grand Cleric Elthina spoke the funeral rites, invoking the Maker's love and wishing Leandra's spirit peace. When she was finished, Hawke lit his mother's funeral pyre, and watched as she was given to the flames. She watched over him in life, now he must help her pass over in death. Many people had come to pay their final respects to his mother.

All his companions were there for him, and showed reverence for this ceremony. Varric stood silently next to Hawke. No jokes, no sarcasm, just respectful silence, and never feeling an ounce of remorse for killing that bastard, Gascard du Puis. Aveline kept a strong face, though it was obvious Leandra's death hurt her as well. Leandra was the closest thing to a mother Aveline ever had, and would miss her deeply. Anders gave his deepest condolences, and wished that he could have done something to save her. Fenris remained silent, but showed the utmost respect, knowing how much Leandra meant to all these people, while Sebastian recited the prayer rites as Elthina did.

Both Hawke's lovers stood closest to him, trying to offer what comfort they could. Both of them knew how much this was tearing Hawke up inside, that he blamed himself for his mother's death. Merrill brought a flower pot with a juvenile rose bush planted in it. In Dalish tradition, they plant trees to remember their loved ones, and Merrill wanted to plant something beautiful to honor Leandra's memory. Isabella held Hawke's hand tightly in hers, and couldn't help but be moved to tears for Leandra, and wished with all her heart that her own mother had loved her as much as Leandra did her child.

Gamlen did everything he could to keep himself together, but he couldn't stop the tears from flowing. Despite his many faults and what he had put her through, Gamlen loved his sister, and now wished he had been a better brother to her. Hawke was surprised to see how many other people came to honor his mother. Both the lord and lady De Launcet came and offered their sincerest regrets, for they both knew and grey up with his mother, and knew there was no other woman like her in all of Thedas. Even the Arishok sent an emissary to convey his respects, for Leandra must have been an exceptional woman to have raised a man like Hawke, and would have been worthy of being a tamassran.

"Hello, Brother." A familiar greeted sadly behind Hawke. It was his sister Bethany.

Hawke took a deep breath to brace himself. He was too ashamed to even look at his sister. Instead, she turned him to meet her, and Bethany hugged him closely to her. Garret's strong face broke, and finally allowed himself to cry with his beloved sister.

"Bethany...I'm so sorry." Hawke wept bitterly. "It was my fault, I couldn't save her."

"No, Garret, you can't blame yourself." Bethany cried in her brother's arms, trying to assuage his guilt. "You didn't kill our mother, and she wouldn't want you to blame yourself for another man's crime."

"First Carver, then you, now Mother." Garret said, his guilt tearing him up inside. "Father would probably be ashamed of me for failing to protect our family."

Bethany looked up at her brother, shocked and almost angry at what he just said. "Garret, you know Father could never be ashamed of you. You did everything you could for our family. All you've ever done since we arrived in Kirkwall was honor our father's memory. If he were alive now, I know he would be proud of you, just as Mother was every day of her life."

Hearing his sister tell him this, helped assuage the guilt and shame Hawke felt inside. Usually, it was always Garret trying to lift Bethany's spirit, and now here she was doing it for him at his time of need. "It's funny, Sister, you sounded just like Mother right now."

"You've still got me, Big Brother. And I don't intend to go anywhere." Bethany promised, hugging her brother to him.

Another figure approached Hawke, and his feelings of sadness were replaced with outrage. It was the Templar, Cullen.

"And just what do you think you're doing here, Cullen?" Hawke demanded, angry that the man was interrupting his mourning with his sister.

Cullen remained calm and respectful. He couldn't expect Serrah Hawke to be the most cordial, given the circumstances. "I was assigned as your sister's escort so that she could attend your mother's funeral."

"Must be Meredith's good deed for the year." Hawke said sarcastically.

Cullen lowered his head and dared to drop formalities to show a modicum of sympathy for what happened to Leandra Hawke. After all, it was for reasons like this that he became a Templar in the first place. "Serrah Hawke, I am...very sorry, to both of you, for what happened to your mother. We should have caught Quentin years ago, then all this might have been avoided."

"Your condolences are appreciated, Ser Cullen." Bethany said politely.

Unlike his sister, Cullen's words brought no appeasement to Garret. If anything, the Templar's sentiment only served to aggravate Hawke even further. "Not as sorry as I am. Maybe if you Templars had actually been doing your jobs, instead of abusing the Circle mages and unlawfully rendering them Tranquil, maybe my mother and a dozen other women would still be alive!"

"I understand that you're angry, but it's for reasons like this the Order exists. It's easy to blame us when tragedies like this strike." Cullen tried to reason. "I would have saved your mother if I could."

"Don't speak as though you're some kind of friend to my family, Cullen. It is a fucking _**INSULT!"**_ Hawke shouted furiously than anyone had seen him before, and caught everyone's attention. "How dare you act as if you care about what happened to our mother after what you put her through!? You took my sister out of her life, breaking her heart, and didn't even bother to look back! And now, _after_ our mother is dead, you pretend to care. If she had been killed by a non-mage, none of you Templars would even bother to know her name! Your hypocrisy is disgusting, Cullen!"

Almost all the attendants were stunned by Hawke's words, but none more than Cullen. He didn't expect such anger to be directed towards him. "Hawke, I..."

"Get out of my sight, Cullen. Before I do what I should have done the last time you interrupted a moment with my family." Hawke's warning was no mere threat made in anger. After everything he had been through, the anger he still felt over his mother's murder, he was ready to follow through with that promise, for he was thoroughly offended by Cullen's presence.

Cullen said nothing. He just bit his lip, and remembered that this was funeral. He tried to convince himself that Hawke was merely angry and in mourning over his mother, but he knew deep down that this is what Hawke truly felt. And deep down, Cullen knew he couldn't blame him. The Templar did what was demanded of him and made his way to the back of the gathering, but made sure Bethany remained in his sight. After all, he still had a duty to perform.

Bethany stood next to her brother and all her friends, happy to see them all once again, even in the midst of this tragedy. Her heart was broken, but at least she still had Garret. She whispered a small prayer for her brother, and hoped that her mother would find peace with their father and brother. She also prayed that the Maker would be merciful, and not break up her family any more than it had been. She and Garret were all that survived her parents, the last of their family. She knew that neither one of them could bare it if something happened to the other.

**~XoXoXo~**

The memory of Leandra's funeral faded into blackness. Seeing how Hawke lost yet another member of his family and was helpless to do anything to stop it. Seeing how susceptible to lose, anguish and heartache the Champion was made them all remember that despite Hawke's legendary reputation, amazing feats and capability, he was still only a man. He wasn't a powerful mage like Rajmael, or a mutated freak like Aedan, but merely a man. And men have their limits, and they fail.

It wasn't until Varric was certain that the memory was over that he finally turned to face them. He rubbed his eyes, trying very hard not to make it seem like he was about to cry, even if that was what he was going to do.

"That...was one of the worst days of Hawke's life." Varric whispered, his face twisted with sadness. "No kid should ever have to lay their parent to rest in the state that freak Quentin left Leandra in. Every day, Hawke wished he could have found that sick son of a bitch sooner. Could have saved his mother and a dozen other women."

Everyone remained quiet as Varric spoke, not bothering to comment on what they saw. They chose to respect what this memory meant to both Varric and Hawke. None of them could possibly know what kind of pain Hawke, Varric and all their friends felt when Leandra died.

"But Hawke was right about one other thing." Varric continued, finally resuming his normal attitude. "He had every damned right to be angry with the Templars. Maybe if they had taken Emeric's investigation more seriously, maybe if they weren't too busy making the Circle Mages miserable, like that bastard Ser Alrik, and focused on finding actual bloodmages, maybe Quentin wouldn't have butchered and mutilated Hawke's mother and all those other women. Instead, Meredith, and all those other pricks like her, saw Leandra's death as yet another excuse to treat mages like shit."

"Given everything you just said, you don't think their measures were justified?" Vivienne asked more incredulous than curious.

"Meredith tried to use Leandra's death to try and make Hawke see things her way, and all it did was piss him off because it insulted his mother's memory." Varric answered sternly. "Leandra married an apostate and raised an apostate daughter, and those were the happiest years of her life. If anything, Leandra believed in peaceful coexistence with mages, not locking them away and treating them life prisoners."

**~XoXoXo~**

Varric and the rest of them were staring at his new office; the Viscount's throne room. Surrounding the room was a small squad of Qunari, armed and dangerous and already looked like they were in a battle. Huddled all together in the great hall, surrounded by a lot pissed off Keroshok, were many well dressed and frightened people, most likely the Kirkwall nobility. And descending from the foot of the throne was the Arishok.

"The hell's goin' on here?" Sera asked.

"We're about to find out." Ranier answered.

"Here is your Viscount." The Arishok announced as the Kirkwall elite screamed terrible cries of terror when the Qunari general threw Viscount Marlowe Dumar's severed head at their feet, staring back at them with blank, dead eyes.

"You dare!?" One indignant noble called out. "Your starting a war!" The Arishok motioned his head and one of his soldiers snapped the poor man's neck from behind, striking fear into the remaining nobility as if they were sheep to the slaughter.

"Look at you!" The Arishok bellowed as if he were speaking to ignorant children. "Like fat dathrasi, you feed and feed, and complain only when your meal is interrupted! You do not look up! You do not see that the grass is bare! All you leave in your wake is misery! You are blind! I WILL MAKE YOU SEE!"

"What's he talking about?" Ranier asked

"He's giving them option of either converting to Qun or dying." Dorian answered. "Standard Qunari protocol."

"Not really a smart move, on his part." Iron Bull added. "His job was supposed to military matters only, but you can tell he's so pissed off right now, he doesn't give a shit."

The great hall's door burst open, walking in ready for battle, was none other than Garret Hawke, here at his greatest moment of glory.

"But it would seem we have guests." The Arishok announced as the one worthy bas in all of this forsaken cesspool interrupted his sermon

He was accompanied by all of his companions, including his sister, with the notable exception of the pirate, Isabela, the one who stole the Tome of Koslun.

"Shenadan, Hawke. I expected you." The Arishok was not surprised that the Hawke had made it through all of his soldiers to Viscount's Keep, he even hoped that would arrive here.

"Maras tol Abreshok. You alone are bas alit dan" The Qunari General addressed, confirming that Hawke was the only foreigner that deserved recognition. "This is what respect looks like BAS! Some of you will never earn it!"

"This outrage has gone far enough!" Hawke called angrily.

"Yes. It has." The Arishok agreed. "Because you are the only one in this whole city worthy of my respect, not just for your martial prowess, but for your clarity of vision and strength of character I offer you this opportunity only once; Join us."

"Excuse me?" This truly caught Hawke off guard.

"Your role and purpose would change very little if you submit to the Qun." The Arishok clarified. "If anything it will only strengthen you and only enrich the Qunari."

"No." Hawke answered firmly. "The Qun, and lack of identity might be suitable to others, but I'm content with being Garret Hawke."

"Unfortunate." The Arishok replied, respectfully. "You know I am denied Par Vollen unless the Tome of Koslun is found. How would you see this conflict resolve without it?"

As if to answer the angry oxman's question, a fellow Qunari was sent flying trough the doors and who should step through them but Isabela.

"I believe I can answer that." The Queen of the Eastern Seas replied while stepping on the very Qunari she throttled, and then handing the Arishok are very large and ornate book. "I believe you'll find mostly undamaged."

"The Tome of Koslun." The Arishok marveled at the sacred text before handing it to one of his soldiers.

"Sorry it took so long to get back, what with all the fighting going one." Isabela casually replied.

"Welcome back to the Marches armpit." Hawke answered. Truly he was happy that his Rivaini lover did the right thing.

"This is your damned influence, Hawke." Isabela swore with disappointment in her voice. "I should've ran off when I had the chance."

"The Relic is reclaimed." The Arishok announce. "I'm allowed to return to Par Vollne...with the thief."

"What!?" Hawke, Isabela, and Merrill cried out.

"Like hell you are." Aveline growled. "If anyone is going to kick her fat ass, it's going to be me."

"She stole the Tome of Koslun, she must return with us." The Arishok wasn't budging from this.

"No. You have your relic, she is MINE. You will not have her." Hawke's answer drew some gasps from them nobles and caused Isabela to start blushing, something unusual for her.

"Don't worry, Isabela." Merrill said, trying to comfort her friend. "Hawke is here, and the rest of us won't let him take you either."

"Then you leave me no choice." The Heathen Ox let out. "I challenge you, Hawke. You and I will battle to the death, with her as the prize."

"No! If your going to duel anyone duel me!" Isabela yelled. She wouldn't let anyone else die for her mistakes.

"You are not worthy." The Arishok pointed out. "I _WILL_ take her, if you object, Hawke, then duty demands that we fight."

"You broke the Llommeryn Accord, destroyed my home, and now you have the gall to threaten a woman I love!?" Hawke patience with this foreign religion had finally reached it's breaking point. He would no longer suffer them. "You are not leaving this building alive, Arishok."

"Marevas! So shall it be!" The general declared.

All the nobles and Qunari cleared the center of the hall while these two warriors circled one another. The Arishok was armed with a large, forked sword in his right hand and a gruesome axe in his left, whereas Hawke was armed with his family shield, and his Keyblade. The Qunari watched their leader with calm indifference, while the Kirkwall residents looked on with anxiety, but none looked more nervous than Hawke's friends. Isabela was, perhaps, the most frightened. She deserved to be taken by the Qunari, for more reasons than any of them could know. And now Hawke was defending her from the consequences of her own actions. If Garret died because of her, she didn't think she could survive it. Merrill wrapped her arms around Isabela, trying her best to comfort her as they looked on as their lover was about to face one of the most dangerous fighters in all of Thedas.

"Oh, my!" Dorian exclaimed. "Two muscular men, fighting over the voluptuous pirate queen! Like something out of a smut novel."

"No kidding!" Sera agreed. "For a fine piece of arse like that, I'd fight all the Qunari and their mothers!"

"Qunari don't have mothers." Iron Bull corrected.

"Quiet!" Varric shushed. "We're about to see Hawke at his most badass!"

A vicious war cry erupted from the Arishok's maw, and he charged down his human opponent like an angry bull, a forked sword in one hand and grisly battle-axe in the other. Hawke was barely able to dodge the assault in time, and was rained down by a vicious storm of attacks from the Arishok's onslaught. Hawke stood his ground against the Qunari war leader. He would not back down, not here. He already ran from one horde that destroyed his home, he would not do that twice in one lifetime.

The battle between the Arishok and Hawke was vicious and without mercy. Both of them excellent warriors from two different races and cultures, with two different fighting styles. The Arishok embodied the natural and inherent rage that burned inside the Qunari race, and he discarded the discipline of the Qun to unleash every ounce of that fury and kill Hawke with his savage weapons and unrelenting assault. Hawke, on the other hand, maintained the discipline he learned in the Fereldan military, and even in such an intense battle, he kept a clear and level head, just like his father taught him. He was like a rock being beaten down by a storm, but no matter how intense it rained down on him, he stood firm. Hawke took the attacks as they came, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

The Arishok's rage made him strong, most men would break under such fury, but Hawke was not like most men. And while his rage made the Arishok strong, it also made him blind to how he left himself open as he swung his weapons, and didn't realize how much energy he was wasting trying to penetrate Hawke's defense. Hawke, however, could see those openings and had no problem exploiting them, using his Keyblade's scythed end to inflict deep gashes in the massive oxman's body.

The Arishok ignored Hawke's well placed strikes, even as they tore through his flesh and ripped his muscles. He had spent his entire life in war, and received many scars and injuries before being elevated to the rank of Arishok. He dashed away from Hawke for only a moment to quaff a powerful healing draught to heal his wounds and replenish his stamina, then charged Hawke once again with his merciless onslaught.

Hawke held firm behind his shield, waiting for that perfect moment to break through the Arishok's attack. Using two weapons like this, even for someone as powerful as this Qunari, was fatiguing. Hawke parried both the Arishok's weapons with his shield and swung his sword up at his opponent's neck. The Arishock evaded Hawke's attack and countered by bringing both his weapons down on Hawke's sword, knocking it right out of his hands. The Arishok followed through with a backhanded swing with his sword, aiming to finish Hawke off by cutting off his head. With his death, the demands of the Qun shall be answered, and the thief will answer for her crimes.

Hawke stopped the Arishok's blade mere hairs away from his neck by blocking the qunari's arm with his shield. Hawke's opportunity had finally arrived. He grabbed the Arishock's wrist with his now free hand and smashed the Qunari's elbow against the face of his shield, simultaneously breaking his arm and unarming him. Keeping a firm grip on the Arishock's now disabled arm, Hawke smashed his boot straight into his opponent's kneecap, shattering it under the force of his heel.

The Arishok hollered in agony as his entire right side was completely crippled by his smaller opponent. His cries of pain were silenced when Hawke backhanded him with his shield then punched him in the face with his mailed fist, knocking half of the Arishok's teeth out. Time came to a halt in the Viscount's throne room as Hawke hammered his massive opponent. His shield and fist broke his opponent's body and smashed his face, but still he refused to fall, and Hawke refused to show mercy.

The Arishok tried to stand and fight, but it was hopeless. His right arm broken, right knee shattered, almost all his ribs broken, and his head being pounded so badly he was no longer able to see straight. But he refused to stop fighting, he would not dishonor himself or the Qun by quitting the fight. He swung his axe with all his might at Hawke, putting everything he had behind it to bring the human down.

Hawke deflected the Arishok's wild attack with his shield, and left the Arishok wide open. He quickly reached for the dagger he kept hidden in under his wrist and jammed it deep into the qunari's thick neck. Blood sprayed from the Arishok's throat and spewed from his mouth, and both Hawke and the Arishok knew the wound was mortal.

Garret stepped back as his enemy staggered backwards, trying to cover the fatal wound in his throat. The Arishok removed the blade from his jugular, blood flooding out in obscene quantities. The Qunari general fell onto the steps behind, coughing and choking on his own blood, this was the end for him.

"One day... we shall...return." The Arishok gurgled his last words and the light from his black eyes faded. And so ended one of the Three Pillars of the Qunari. Seeing their leader had fallen, and with no further concern for this city, the remaining Antaam left in military formation, taking the Tome of Koslun with them and leaving Isabella alone.

Hawke was more exhausted than he had been in a long time. Fighting someone like this had taken every ounce of strength and wind from him, his arms were throbbing under his armor and shield, but it was over. He had won. Both his city and one of the women he loved were safe. That's when the door finally burst open, and who should arrive but Meredith and her Templar forces. Typical Templars, always showing up after the fact and never where you actually need them.

"Is it...over?" Meredith asked, completely astonished. She had fought through many Qunari to get here, expecting dead bodies and a harsher fight. Instead she happened upon this Serah Hawke standing over the now dead Arishok.

"Serrah Hawke killed the Arishok!" A grateful nobleman called.

"He's a hero!" A female noble cried out.

"The City has been saved!" Another declared.

All the people, nobles, guards and even Templars began to rejoice, clamor, and celebrate as this horrible crisis had ended. All began clamoring towards Hawke, their savior to express their gratitude, commend his courage, some of the women even began to kiss him. The small crowd made way, however, as the Knight Commander Meredith approached him.

"Well, done." The Knight-Commander commended. "It would seem that Kirkwall has a new Champion."

Hawke was standing in the middle of everyone and he still couldn't believe it. Everyone here was declaring him their hero. He was both awed and humbled, but at the same time weary of what this could mean for him now. For the moment though, he basked in the glory that was lauded on him. Making his way through the crowd, not caring for the cheering and applause, he came face to face with Isabela. In front of them all, he brought the pirate queen's mouth to his own. Isabela embraced her champion tightly, wrapping on leg around Hawke's body not caring for the scandalized gasps and louder cheers. She was so happy and so relieved she felt like she was going to break down, sobbing. Never had anyone done so much for her, more than what she deserved. She drove her tongue to meet Garret's and later tonight she and Merrill were going to give him one helluva night.

"There! You see now?" Varric hollered. "I didn't exaggerate at all!"

"That was so incredible!" Dorian applauded. "Everyone I know back in Tevinter will be positively envious."

"Now that is how a real Champion earns his title." Ranier complemented.

"Man, that guy was a badass!" Iron Bull laughed.

"It would seem the Champion's reputation is not merely an overstatement." Vivienne acknowledged.

"This was his home, she was his girl. He would not let the Arishok harm either." Cole said with a small smile on his face. "That's how I want Maryden to feel when I'm with her."

"Watching him beat the snot out of a shitty-arsed horn-head was loads better than watching that areshole Hero eat another guy's innards." Sera said approvingly, though she stuck her tongue out in disgust for that memory.

"The Pirate Queen bagged herself quite the prize with this one. In more was than one. Ga-row!" Zevran chuckled.

"That was _so_ romantic." Cassandra sighed dreamily. Seeing how this happened was so much better than listening to Varric describe it. She allowed herself one moment to appreciate the fact that Hawke was willing to put his life on the line and face the Arishok in single combat, all to keep Isabella safe. How couldn't she enjoy such a lovely tale?

**~XoXoXo~**

The crowd of people began to dissipate and change. Cassandra and the others found themselves still standing in the Viscount's Keep, but now all the people here looked like they had come for a celebration. Everyone here, a whole mob of people crowding the hall up to the steps, was dressed in they're finest outfits. Long tables of wine, skewered pig, beef, and the infamous pies of the Marches laid spread across the front of the walls. No expense was considered too great for this momentous of days. Many seemed anxious for the party to get started. At the the foot of the Viscount's throne was Grand Cleric Elthina with First Enchanter Orsino and Knight Commander Meredith, and neither mage nor Templar seemed ready to tear each other's throat out. Standing before all three of them was Garret Hawke, dressed in fine yet humble clothes with colors of House Amell emblazoned on them.

"Oh-ho? What's this now?" Dorian asked.

"This was Hawke's coronation as the Champion of Kirkwall." Varric explained. "Look, there's me and my friends."

All of them looked toward the top of the steps, next to throne, Hawke's friends held a place of honor at this occasion. They all dressed in their finest for this occasion, with only Isabela absent. Bethany was here as well, with other mages from the Gallows, and she looked upon her big brother with pride. His Uncle, Gamlen was also here, trying his damnest not to weep in joy. Even Bodhan and his son, Sandal, couldn't miss this. Hawke's dwarven manservant almost looked like he wanted to cry, whereas, Sandal just kept clapping for Garret.

"Damn! Seeing all this food and liquor makes me wish we were at a party of our own!" Sera complained.

Garret was now standing before the three most important figures in Kirkwall, his only peers. Grand Cleric Elthina, the spiritual leader of the city, Knight Commander Meredith, whom led the city's Templars with an iron fist and First Enchanter Orsino, the youngest member of the College of Mages and the most vocal critic of the Templar's policies. They were now joined by the Champion of Kirkwall, the city's foremost protector.

This was by far the proudest moment in Hawke's life, his only regret was his mother wasn't here. Nor was Isabela. Isabela was wracked with so much guilt over everything she had caused and left as soon as she could, despite Garret forgiving her, somehow that made it worse.

"Garret Hawke..." The Grand Cleric announced. "What you have done for this city is more than just courageous; your selfless valor and unbreakable determination saw us through this horrible ordeal. To be named Champion isn't something that is given, it is earned through recognition of one's deeds and leadership through great crisis. I am very proud to name Kirkwall's first Champion."

A roaring applause echoed through the palace as Hawke knelt before the Grand Cleric as she bestowed upon his brow a laurel of sage leaves.

"As is the tradition of the Free Marches..." Elthina continued. "We now present you with the arms and armor fit for a warrior of your station." One of the mages unveiled a suit of black armor with many sharp points of Free Marchers design, with a red sash embroidered with twin eagles in flight draped across the chest. The weapon they presented was a greatsword made from highest black steel with a bejeweled hilt and pommel. Despite the weapon's beauty, it was indeed a weapon of war. These were the highest quality arms and armor Hawke had ever seen, and he couldn't wait to have Sandal place his enchantments on them.

"Garret Hawke, would you allow me the honor?" Elthina beseeched, holding a laurel wreath of sage leave before.

Hawke humbly knelt before the Grand-Cleric and allowed her to place the laurel upon his head.

"This crown of sage leaves represent that victory, however great, is fleeting. However, the sword and armor represent that glory is eternal." The old priestess stepped towards Hawke and the both faced the crowd. "Citizens of Kirkwall, I present to you...your Champion." And throughout the Viscount's Keep to be heard all the way down to the docks, was a thunderous cheer, the likes of which had never been heard in this Age as a new hero had been crowned.

Hawke took a moment to marvel at his new weapon and armor. Never before had he owned such high quality equipment. It was time for him to go back and mingle. Bodahn took the new bear back to Hawke's estate, Sandal couldn't wait to give new and powerful enchantments to Hawke's new toys, and who was he to deny him? It felt strange to Hawke, being the center of all this attention; not five minutes after his coronation nobles began offering their daughters to him and begging the Champion to attend their special ceremonies.

The first thing he did was make his way over to his sister, they hadn't seen each other since before their mother died, it was time to reunite in happiness. Bethany was speaking to the First Enchanter when walked up to her.

"Oh, Garret." Bethany said as she embraced her brother. "If only mother were, she'd be so proud of you. I know I am."

"I wasn't really trying to be a hero, Bethany." Garret explained, almost bashfully. "I was just trying to do the right thing."

"I know, big brother. Sometimes that's just all it takes to become something much greater than we'd hope to become." Bethany replied.

Hawke's time with his sister was cut short when many of the Kirkwall elite practically bull-rushed him and began fawning over him like he was a statue of solid gold. When Hawke finally managed to pry himself from his smothering admirers he was met with an all to familiar giggle.

"It would seem he you more attention than you can handle, Ma Vhenan." Merrill laughed mischievously. Garret to took a moment to marvel his Dalish lover and the outfit she had worn to this occasion. Unlike the other gathered ladies who wore Orlesian dresses that made their lower halves look larger than they actually were, Merrill wore a traditional Dalish garment made for special occasions. It was a flowing white dress that accented her slim, graceful figure, and showed off her beautiful legs, which of course, had no shoes on.

Music had begun to play, and Hawke finally saw his opportunity. He took Merrill by the hand and led her to the dance floor where the two of them began dancing slowly to the music with each other. They didn't care about all the eyes staring at them, or all the potential marriage arrangements he was throwing away by dancing with a heathen elf, all that mattered was the time Hawke and Merrill were having together. The only thing that could make this better was if Isabella was there to join them, and that would really cause a scandal. A scandal truly started and all the gathered nobles were left in a state of shock at the end of the music when Hawke kissed Merrill deeply, and made it no secret that the two of them were very fond of using their tongues.

"Whoo! You go, Daisy!" Varric laughed loudly encouragingly at the memory.

"Yeah, yeah, just a little more. Put more tongue into it." Iron Bull said lecherously.

"Hmm. Looks like the Champion of Kirkwall is more daring than I previously thought." Zevran chuckled.

"Nya-ha! Bet all those prissy nobs weren't expecting that!" Sera laughed.

"Such a display is so scandalous, especially in the Free Marches." Vivienne observed.

"You should see what's considered a scandal in Tevinter. This little display of oral affection wouldn't even be in the top ten." Dorian laughed.

"After what the Champion did to get that title, I'd say he more than earned it." Ranier confirmed.

"He loves her, she is his woman, just like Isabella is, like they both will always be. He doesn't care about what others think, only what he feels for them." Cole said empathically.

As Hawke and Merrill made their way from the dance floor, leaving everyone in a state of utter disbelief, Hawke heard the unexpected sound of someone applauding him. Hawke didn't know if the man was being genuine or was mocking him. He was an older man, he and Hawke's father would have been around the same age, with a thick, well kept, pronged beard. The man was wearing the dress uniform of an Orlesian military officer and the long-feathered hat of the Chevalier Order. Judging by the medals he had pinned to his chest, Hawke could tell this man was a highly ranked commander, and a skilled warrior.

"A magnificent display, Serrah Hawke! Not even Champion for five minutes, and you've already caused a scandal amongst the nobles. A marvelous feat, indeed." The man laughed with genuine respect. "Though, if Leandra were here, I imagine she would have scolded you for doing such a thing in public."

"You knew my mother, Ser?" Hawke asked curiously.

"Oh, how rude of me. Here I am talking about breaches in propriety and I haven't even introduced myself." The man said with a hint of embarrassment. He put down his cup of wine, took off his Chevalier hat with a deep introductory bow. "Duke Prosper de Montfort, Lord of Chateau Haine, and Chevalier to Her Grace, Empress Celene I Valmont of Orlais. At your humble service."

Hawke returned the Duke's gesture and gave a polite bow in return to him. "I am honored to make your acquaintance, Duke Proper. How did you know my mother?"

"Ah, my dear wife, Amelie, she and Leandra were close friends when they were young, and I had the pleasure of meeting her when I first visited Kirkwall. May Andraste rest them both." Duke Prosper said with deepest respects. "Mon dieu, but I didn't come to talk about sad things, but to celebrate your achievement. Your mother would no doubt be proud of you."

"Everything I am, my parents taught me to be." Hawke confirmed proudly.

The Orlesian duke reached into his breast coat and handed Hawke an old, rather worn out copper coin. As far as Hawke could tell, it wasn't any kind of legal tender, yet the Duke handed it to him like it was more valuable than a sovereign.

"Please, take this Caprice Coin. It's an old tradition in Orlais." Duke Prosper bade. "I must confess, I am here to do more than simply enjoy the wine and congratulate you. I will hosting my House's annual Wyvern Hunt in the coming days at my estate in Chateau Haine, and I would be honored to have you join us."

This wasn't the first invitation Hawke had received from a noble this evening. In fact, it was the twenty-fifth he had received. Being raised a farmer, Hawke wasn't one for grand parties or hunts with the aristocracy, especially when he was more concerned about Kirkwall's welfare. But seeing as this man knew his mother, Hawke wasn't that disinclined to say no.

"I will...give your generous invitation great consideration." Hawke said honestly. "I still must attend to matters here in Kirkwall. The burdens of bearing a title, I'm afraid."

"Ha. I understand all too well, Champion. Do enjoy the celebration, I don't doubt you've earned it." Prosper encouraged and resumed enjoying his wine.

**~XoXoXo~**

The memory shifted from Hawke's coronation as Champion to an entirely different scene in his life. The environment was drastically different from the Viscount's Keep, and they certainly weren't in Kirkwall anymore. Hawke was sitting in a stone cell with reinforced steel bars he had no hope of even bending, and wasn't alone in there. Sitting on the opposite side of the cell was an elf almost none of the knew. She was a pretty thing with a fair complexion, a lovely face, a figure most women would murder for, and it was all topped off with a beautiful mane of flaming red hair held in a ponytail.

Both the Champion and the elf were wearing finery that one might wear at some kind of gala or party, but they were now tattered after some kind of scuffle. Both of them remained seated on opposite sides of the cell. The elf sat there looking guilty, while Hawke looked incredibly pissed off.

"Oh, shit. I knew this one was coming the instant we saw Duke Prosper." Varric groaned, slapping his hand on his forehead.

"What's going on here?" Dorian asked. "First we're seeing Hawke being crowned Champion, now here he is in some kind of dungeon."

"Yeah, what gives?" Sera added.

"The lovely redheaded vixen you guys see Hawke giving the stink-eye, ladies and gentlemen, is Tallis." Varric introduced. "Though, I liked to call her _'Shivs'_."

Cassandra recalled the name and the person attached to it. On orders from Divine Justinia, she was tasked to find out about this elf, and what she and Hawke did that angered Orlais. Varric's tale about this adventure it seems was accurate. "This was the Qunari spy that deceived Hawke into infiltrating Chateau Haine, isn't she?"

"Yep." Varric nodded.

"What? You mean to say that dainty thing is a qunari agent?" Ranier asked incredulously.

"Agent, spy, assassin. Those who are given the title of _Tallis_ by the Ben-Hessrath are meant to solve problems covertly." Iron Bull informed. "Though, I'm guessing if the Champion knows that, she hasn't done a very good job."

"You mean you don't know what she did, Bull?" Cassandra inquired.

"Not too many agents know who each other are or what their assignment is. Less chances of discovery that way." Iron Bull answered.

"Well, what did this qun-elf do to make Mr. Outstand-Citizen here so mad?" Sera asked.

"Tricked him into breaking into the fortress of one Orlais' most powerful nobles to steal a priceless gem, when really she was a Qunari spy who was just using Hawke as a cover to hide her mission, which, apparently was unsanctioned by the Qun." Varric explained nonchalantly. "They got caught, and thrown into a dungeon. Trust me, Duke Prosper wasn't the only one pissed off about the night's events."

"Why would the Champion do something so foolish?" Vivienne asked, unable to understand how Hawke could have put himself in these circumstances.

"T&amp;A, Lady Vivienne. Tits and Ass." Varric answered almost jokingly. "Hawke is an absolute sucker for beautiful women, especially if they swat a squad of Antivan Crows like flies. She gave him they typical _'elf wants to take back from an Orlesian lord'_ story, and Hawke was too busy admiring her perfectly shaped ass to think beyond that."

That answer left many of them stunned silent. It was so unbelievable, yet somehow made perfect sense. Sometimes, people do illogical things for illogical reasons. All people have their flaws, and the flaws of heroes were often deep. For Aedan Cousland, it was his limitless anger. In Hawke's case, it was women, who are sometimes more dangerous than any other vice.

"If her plan wasn't to steal some priceless gem from an Orlesian lord, then what was her true mission?" Dorian asked curiously.

"Apparently, her former tutor, the guy who brought Tallis into the Ben-Hessrath defected, and he was going to sell secret information to Orlais as a final act of defiance. Tallis wanted to stop him so that there wouldn't be any unnecessary deaths. And Hawke was her only way into getting close enough to Prosper to stop him." Varric explained. "As you can imagine, Hawke was really not happy about being played for a sap, especially when he found out he was being used to help the Qunari."

"Of all the people in all of Thedas, why me!? Why did you need to involve me in this half-assed scheme of yours!?" The memory of Hawke demanded of the elven qunari. "Was it all because Prosper invited me?"

"So, everything you told me was an utter lie?" The memory of Hawke demanded lividly of the qunari spy.

"Not everything." Tallis answered, trying to sound convincing.

"So, I was just stupid enough to miss the part where your one of the invaders that tried destroying my home?" Hawke said angrily. "And you thought it was a good idea to recruit the man who killed the Arishok?"

"You don't need horns to embrace the Qun. What you need is a sense of purpose. A belief in unity. In improving the lot of not only for your own people, but for everyone." Tallis tried explaining.

"Oh. So when the Arishok set Kirkwall on fire, chopped off the Viscount's head, and gave everyone in the city the option of converting or dying, that was the Qun trying to improve our lives." Hawke admonished sarcastically. "Well, when you put it like that, I actually feel bad about burying my knife in his neck."

"I wish I could say your anger is unjustified, but I'd be lying." Tallis admitted. "That doesn't mean it's the solution for everyone."

"Really? So, you only wage war and destroy people's homes and strip them of their freedom only if they _don't_ roll over for you and let you dictate every movement of their life under threat of death?" Hawke rebuked.

"Being Qunari doesn't automatically mean a zealot." Tallis argued back sternly. "Most Qunari don't even understand humans, why you act the way you do. But I grew up among you, I understand perfectly well."

Tallis held her tongue and braced herself when Hawke's patience finally reached its end, and was about to meet the back of his hand in an outburst of anger. However, Hawke stopped himself before he could strike her. As angry and insulted as he was, Hawke could never bring himself to strike an unarmed woman.

"That was your last warning, Tallis." Hawke cautioned angrily. "You grew up in the North, with the Imperium and the Qun, where freedom means almost nothing. I am a _Fereldan_! And freedom is our born right! A right that every Qunari would see us stripped of to achieve their perfect world!"

Tallis sighed deeply and full of frustration. She had to remember that she was the one who did him wrong, not the other way around. "I know it's not easy to understand. And after what the Arishok did, I hardly blame you. Our ways must seem so alien to you."

"Alien, oppressive, tyrannical, ignorant, pretty much the antithesis against everything I hold sacred." Hawke listed dismissively.

"That's the only way you see it because it's the only part of the Qun you let yourself see." Tallis insisted. "Tell me this: can you honestly say there's nothing to improve in human society, nothing to strive for? We believe in striving together. We may stumble, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't try."

"And those who don't want to struggle with you, or just want to follow their own path, for good or ill, are stripped of their minds and turned into hollowed out laborers, and Maker save you if you have the misfortune to be born a mage." Hawke rebutted, unconvinced and without sympathy.

**~XoXoXo~**

The memory quickly shifted away from Hawke and Tallis' argument in the Duke's cell. They watched the images flash by them and witnessed Hawke's escape from Prosper's dungeon, reunited with all his companions, then his encounter with the Duke, followed by a battle with that Chasind bodyguard the Duke had. Now they were battling a large group of ghasts in the underground caverns beneath Chateau Haine. After what they had just been through, they were in no mood to be harassed by those little goblin freaks. So, they slaughtered the little horde of ghasts like the rodents they were and sent them scurrying back into their holes.

With the ghasts taken care of, Hawke, his companions, and Tallis, found themselves standing before two different exits inside the caverns. Now the question was, which one do they take.

"And there's the way out." Tallis pointed to the path on the left. "See? I told you I had a plan. The kind that has an escape route and everything."

Hawke looked down that path, and was more than willing to take it, and leave this Maker-forsaken mess behind him. "It would be the only thing you've gotten right so far, Tallis."

"So, you could go. There are, however...other options." Tallis pleaded.

Hawke shook his head in disbelief. "You can't be serious."

"I know you think I lied to you. Well, I _did_ lie to you, but I'm hoping you can look past that." Tallis admitted. "What Salit is going to do will harm so many people. My people, as well as yours. It's my duty to stop him, but I can't do it alone. Not anymore"

"Tell me truthfully, what is so terrible about Salit's plan?" Hawke questioned.

'I...can't. Not completely. And yes, I know that's a hard sell." Tallis answered evasively. "The information Salit plans to turn over to Orlais won't just hurt Qunari, but anyone living in Qunari lands. Even those who have fled the Qun, of any race, will be condemned to persecution forever."

"How does this affect me and my people?" Hawke demanded. his patience wearing thin. "After what the Arishok did, what he would have done to Kirkwall, why should I care about what happens to these people?"

"Because they're people!" Tallis answered deliberately. "Not every Qunari is a soldier, you know? There are tens of thousands of farmers, craftsmen, artisans. People who have never harmed anyone. People whose only crime is existing."

"Don't believe a word she says, Hawke. She's only telling you things you want to hear so you'll help her." Fenris interrupted with that scowl of his. "Did she tell you that the Ben-Hessrath remind the people of the Qun who they are? It's all a lie. The Ben-Hessrath are spies, they watch for any form of sedition or rebellion, and if anyone doesn't follow their path within the Qun, they are sent be re-educated, or worse."

"You're only looking at us as only an outsider can see, Fenris." Tallis argued. "The Ben-Hessrath keeps the Qunari people safe, to try and prevent what Salit is doing from harming our people. I joined the Ben-Hessrath to protect that peace that many people live in. I've struggled to find it myself. I know it's there, I just...keep falling short." Tallis looked at Hawke with an earnest look on her face, wanting to know his answers. "What about you? Have you ever been a part of something bigger than just yourself?"

"Every day of my life." Hawke answered staunchly. "My family, my friends. And I protect Kirkwall from those who do it, and my friends and family, harm. As far as I'm concerned, there is no greater calling than that."

"Admirable, but not the same." Tallis replied honestly. "The Qunari have a vision of what life should be like. Free of pain and fear and doubt. You see tyranny and I see caring, and interest in the welfare of all. Yes, it could be better, but so can human intolerance and cruelty. Or do you disagree?"

"Peace cannot be created with swords, and neither can friendship be built upon deception. And both you and your Qun have inflicted both injuries on me." Hawke rebuked. "After everything you put me through, the danger you placed us all in, what makes you think I would ever even consider helping you?"

Tallis sighed deeply, trying so hard to convince him that she was only doing the right thing. "I think you're an amazing person, Hawke. I wish I'd have done this right, showed you the respect you deserve. If I had it my way, you'd never have been this involved in the first place. I need your help, and the only thing I can do now is ask for it, like I should have at the beginning. I just hope you understand what's at stake here."

Tallis stepped away from Hawke and stood in front of the path she intended to take, and waited for Hawke's answer, hoping that he would help her in her hour of need.

Hawke took a moment to weigh the options before him. If he took the path on the left, he could leave this mess behind him, and pray that it wouldn't come back to haunt him. The severity of the scandal alone would probably prevent Duke Prosper from seeking retribution against him. However, if he took the path on the right, Hawke would help a desperate woman save countless innocent lives, and for years now that has been the core of who he was. After a moment of contemplation, Hawke made his decision. He took the path on the left.

"Hawke? Please!" Tallis pleaded desperately

"That's uncharacteristically cold of you, Hawke." The memory of Varric pointed out.

"We're not truly going to let her do this by herself, are we? Ma vhenan?" Merrill asked.

"No, Tallis. You don't deserve my help." Hawke answered sternly. "You expect me to lay down my life, and the lives of my comrades, yet you won't even tell us why we should do this. From the very beginning, everything you told me was a lie, and like a complete moron, I believed you. For all I know, you're still lying, and I won't make a fool of myself twice. People say I'm a great detective, yet I let myself be so utterly deceived. Tell me this: when you dragged me into this, did you ever think about the people of Kirkwall?"

Tallis was silent. She couldn't give an answer, she didn't have one.

"No?" Hawke asked rhetorically. "You didn't stop to consider how many people I would be putting at risk by provoking Prosper's anger, maybe even give Orlais cause to go to war? Now, you have the gall to talk to me about how many innocent lives are at risk, when you didn't care about the lives _you_ were endangering!? Oh, that's right, it didn't matter to you, because Kirkwall is just a city full of non-Qunari and mages, and I'm just a stupid baas to be used like a tool. No, I will not endanger the city I've sworn to protect to help the people who would destroy my home, and stand against everything I believe in. You don't deserve me help, Tallis."

With that final remark, Hawke and his comrades walked down the left tunnel, leaving an emotionally hurt Tallis to complete her mission on her own.

**~XoXoXo~**

The memory projected forward once again. What they now witnessed was perhaps the most epic setting any of them had ever seen in Hawke's memory. They were standing amongst ancient ruins on a high cliff above Chateau Haine. The Champion's comrades were fighting against a both Chevaliers and Tal-Vashoth mercenaries, Tallis was fighting with them. Hawke stood alone, his back to the cliff, his Celebrant raised high, staring down Duke Prosper as rode atop a massive bull wyvern, the largest any of them had ever seen. A creature like that could have hunted giants if it wanted.

Prosper fired a strange, green-glowing substance at Hawke with his custom-made crossbow, splattering the projectile on Hawke's breastplate, marking him as the gargantuan wyvern's target. Prosper tightly held the reigns of his reptilian mount as the massive draconid charged down Hawke, with every intention of devouring him. In the face of the monstrous wyvern and its master, Hawke fearlessly stood his ground. The Duke and his beast stormed down on the Champion with the force of a stampede, while Hawke waited for the exact moment of truth.

At the very last second, Hawke deftly dodged the giant wyvern's charge attack by mere hairs, and used his Celebrant to cut the wyvern's front legs out from under it. The force of the beast's momentum sent both the wyven and its master hurdling over the cliff behind Hawke. However, Prosper managed to grab hold of the cliff's edge by his fingertips, and cursed at the Champion with promises of Orlais' vengeance and slow, painful death for them all.

Hawke rushed to cliff's edge and begged Prosper to let him help, but Prosper was a proud Chevalier, and would never accept the aid of an enemy. Prosper stabbed at the hand that reached out for him with a dagger, and in so doing, lost his precarious grip on the cliff, and fell to his death on the rocks below. And thus ended the legendary Duke Prosper de Montfort.

Hawke stood next to the ledge were Prosper died, while Tallis stood over Salit's body, and both of them said their respective prayers for these great, flawed men. Garret held no grudge against Prosper, for he was only doing his duty to his country, an commitment Hawke not only understood but admired. Tallis wanted to save Salit from himself, to stop him from making a terrible mistake that would not only cost many innocent people their lives, but would also cost him his soul. She failed to save Salit, but at least she saved those he threatened.

"Tallis." Hawke called demandingly with anger in his eyes, his comrades behind me. "That list Salit was going to sell to the Duke, who names are those? After all this bullshit, I demand to know why that list was worth possibly ruining my life over."

The anger coming from the Champion was almost tangible, and Tallis could see there was no way out of this. And the Champion was right, he at least deserved to know what she risked his life over. "It...it's a list of agents posted throughout Thedas. Qunari like myself. Many of them have children, families, friends. They're people you wouldn't suspect. Some have even left the Qun altogether. If this list fell into human hands, they, and everyone they know, would be killed. The Ariqun believes they knew the risks, but what about the innocents? I, I couldn't let this happen."

Hawke stood there in silence for a moment, then extended his hand out to Tallis like he wanted something. "The list, Tallis. Give it me."

"What?! You can't be serious!" Tallis said outraged. "After everything I said about how dangerous this list is, the amount of lives at stake, you expect me to just hand it over to you just because you have a grudge?"

"Don't insult me Tallis!" Hawke returned angrily. "This isn't about grudges or theological differences. My duty is to protect Kirkwall, and I still love my homeland. I can't ignore the risk those agents pose to the rest of Thedas."

"If you truly believe in protecting the innocent, Hawke, then believe what I'm telling you: no one should have this list." Tallis argued. "It doesn't distinguish innocent from guilty. It doesn't show the friends, lovers, children who have nothing to do with the Qun."

"I'm not the bad guy in this story, Tallis, and neither was Prosper. _You are!_" Hawke returner, his anger rising. "Prosper was only fulfilling his duty to his country. You lied to me from the beginning, made me an accessory to your crimes without any thought to the consequences of your actions, and now all of Kirkwall is at risk of Orlais' anger. The Qunari are a threat to Thedas, and if these agents are aiding in that threat, then it's my duty to stop them. I've seen what the Qunari are willing to do to spread the Qun, and I will do what it takes to make sure that never happens to anyone else. Maybe I can spare Kirkwall from the Orlesian Empire by giving this list to the Empress."

"I _am_ sorry, Hawke. I wish could take back what I put you through, but I can't." Tallis said sorrowfully. "But I can't let you have this list. There is just too much at stake."

Hawke raised his sword and held it firmly against the Qunari agent. "Tallis, this isn't a negotiation. If you won't give it to me, I have no problem _taking_ it from you."

"I'm sorry, Hawke, but I can't let that happen. I wish things could've gotten better, I really do. I hope you can understand that." Tallis said with guilt in her voice. She reached into her satchel and grabbed a grenade. She threw it to the ground at her feet, and disappeared into a cloud of smoke that erupted around her. When the smoke cleared, all that was left of Tallis was a massive red jewel in a golden setting that looked like it was worth a fortune.

"Ooh. At least she left something shiny." Isabella said, willing to take this as a consolation prize.

Hawke didn't share his Rivaini lover's enthusiasm for the shiny bauble. It's worth couldn't cover the feelings of failure and self-disgust he felt right now. He grabbed the jewel and threw it over the cliff in piqued anger, and yelled in rage over the treetops. "Tallis! I know you can hear me! You've made an enemy out of me today! Pray your stupidity never crosses my path again. The next time we meet, I will kill you!"

**~XoXoXo~**

"And that's how the caper at Chateau Haine ended." Varric finally spoke out. "With Prosper's death, and Hawke leaving that place empty-handed and with a grudge."

"I thought the Champion was supposed to be all about protectin' all people, the innocent ones, anyways. Why did he want to do the same thing that Duke prick wanted?" Sera asked, deeply disappointed.

"Trust me, if you'd seen the Qunari set your home on fire, learned the things they do to their captives, the things they wanted to do to Rivaini, you might understand, Buttercup." Varric assured. "He wanted to make sure that never happened anywhere else, and he knew those agents could make it happen."

"This memory still causes him feelings of anger. Anger at Tallis, but angrier at himself." Cole spoke, interpreting the feelings this memory had for Hawke. _"Many call me a great detective, yet I couldn't see what was right before. Like an idiot, I let myself be distracted by her pretty smile and sad story. I must be the greatest fool in the Free Marches to have fallen for such a trick, and now, Kirkwall may suffer for it."_

"Duke Prosper de Montfort was a powerful man, and a magnificent player of the Game. He was one of the few people that Empress Celene would listen to. Hawke had every reason to fear the repercussions of provoking him." Vivienne stated factually.

"I understand the Champion's reasoning for not wanting to help Tallis. More so than most." Ranier said from personal experience. "After all, who wants to help the person who landed them in a world of shit?"

"Bull, you were Ben-Hessrath, an undercover agent as I recall, what can you tell us about these other agents that Tallis wanted to protect?" Cassandra asked concernedly.

"Eh, really couldn't tell you, Seeker. Most undercover agents don't really know who each other are, less chances of discovery that way." Iron Bull answered. "But I can tell you this: both the Champ and Tallis' fears were real. Sometimes, agents who go undercover for too long end up leaving the Qun. After living without the restrictions of the Qun, some decide they prefer that life. Just like what happened with me. Then there are those who are truly loyal to the Qun, and they'll gladly turn on that life, even the friends and loved ones they made, within a heartbeat. To them, it's all just a ruse to play."

"A danger those in the Imperium have to live with every day." Dorian informed. "Most men of power and authority are mages, and surround themselves with other mages, because they know the Qunari will never train anyone with magic to become an agent."

"Given what's happened to the Inquisitor's daughter, I'd say Hawke's fears are well justified." Zevran said disdainfully. "It takes a special kind of bastard to harm a child, and this is coming from a professional assassin."

**~XoXoXo~**

Hawke's memories journeyed back to Kirkwall. Hawke was standing the Chantry with Grand Cleric Elthina, and it looked as though the two of them were in a heated debate. The Champion was desperately trying to get his point across, while Elthina clung to her pious stubbornness and refused to hear his words.

"Elthina. the time for passive neutrality is over. It's time to make a decision and choose a side." Hawke argued sternly.

"And which sides are you referring to, Champion?" Elthina asked calmly.

"Don't play ignorant, Elthina, not on this. The mages and the Templars." Hawke stated. "This city is tearing itself apart over their struggle with one another, it's time to make a choice."

"And you would have me side with the mage's I take it, Champion." Elthina guessed correctly with an eyebrow raised. "It's common knowledge that you count apostates and bloodmages amongst your friends. You have done much to fan the flames of rebellion in this city."

"You're damned right I would have you side with the mages, and a righteous soul should." Hawke confessed sternly. "My father was an apostate and a righteous man. My sister is in the Gallows, and I will not stand to see her suffer under Meredith's authority."

Elthina shook her head, and clasped her hands together as though she were saying an emotional prayer. "I _feel_ for the mages, I truly do, We are all children of the Maker and I would not want to be locked away in the Gallows, but Andraste's teachings are clear. Magic allows abuses beyond the scope of mere mortals. If they lose control, then innocents suffer. I can only hope and pray for the balance everyone needs, that Orsino and Meredith can set aside their differences. For if it comes to war, then it's the innocent who suffer."

"You mean like how the innocent are suffering right now under Meredith's tyranny?" Hawke demanded blatantly. "Every day, Meredith and her Templars trample on the rights of this city's people. The curfews, breaking into people's houses to search for harbored mages, arresting people to see if their not apostates in hiding. Meredith still refuses to let the people of this city elect a new leader, and demands they surrender to her authority. And let's not forget her liberal and unlawful use of the Rite of Tranquility on the Circle's mages. How can you just sit by and let her insanity destroy this city?"

"I cannot turn on my Templars, on the very words of Andraste, for fear. No matter how justified that fear may be." Elthina answered, her voice filled with regret, but not shame. "The Templars are a part of the Chantry, and we can no more turn our backs on them than we can cut off our own hands."

Hawke stared blankly at Elthina, his face full of shock. He couldn't believe his own ears. "You are such a hypocrite, you and the entire Chantry! The Divine sent Sister Nightingale here not to help stop this insanity, but to see if Kirkwall's mages should be put to the torch. You say you feel for the mages, but allow them to be imprisoned and abused. You speak of protecting the innocent, yet you allow a tyrant like Meredith to roam free. I didn't want to believe what Aedan Cousland said about you, but he was right: you truly are the worst threat to Kirkwall. If you won't do anything for this city, then I will."

Elthina sighed sadly, and looked at Hawke pleadingly. "You disapprove of me, Champion, I know, but I beg you, don't do anything rash. What you do may cause unintended harm to the people you want to help..."

"Don't you dare speak to me about putting people at risk, Elthina!" Hawke interrupted austerely. "I warned you that someone within your own Chantry was funding zealots against the Qunari, and you did nothing. Seamus Dumar was murdered in this very temple, then a Qunari assassin killed Petrice, and you didn't even bat an eyelash. How many people died when the Arishok sacked this city because you did nothing. How many are suffering now?! If being loyal to the Chantry means doing nothing while people like my sister are suffering, and creates lunatics like Meredith and Petrice, I want nothing to do with it. From now on, I wash my hands of your corrupt Chantry."

"Champion..." Elthina beseeched, knowing it was in vain. "Please. Let cooler heads prevail, and I assure you, the Maker will guide us out of this crisis."

Hawke gave an exasperated sigh. There she goes again, acting as if praying and waiting is the Maker's will. "No, Grand Cleric. That is your greatest sin, not mine. When I go to face the Maker's judgment, I will go to Him knowing I did everything I could to help as many as I could. Can you truly say the same?"

"Hawke, what you're asking..."

"Answer me, damn it!" Hawke yelled so loud it echoed through the Chantry.

"All I can do, Champion, is hope and pray for peace and try to urge others to do the same." Elthina knew this wasn't the answer he wanted, she remembered that he was a warrior and thus saw things differently .

"That's what I thought." The Champion responded disappointed, but unsurprised. He turned his back on the Granc Cleric and left the Chantry he had now forsaken. "When you go to meet the Maker, you tell Him that while abuse and murder was done in His and His bride's name, you did nothing. I, for one, can't have that on my conscience."

**~XoXoXo~**

"Yeah, forget Aedan Cousland's hatred for the Chantry. He only hates it because they offend his sense of decency, such as it is." Varric commented insightfully. "Unlike him, Hawke has every legitimate reason to hate the Chantry and its Templars, for what they did to his family and this city. He has every right to bare them a grudge."

**~XoXoXo~**

Everyone was pulled forward through the timespan to the next memory in Hawke's life. They were in the Kirkwall, on the steps that lead from Lowtown to Hightown, and Hawke and his friends had just arrived to see another heated debate between Orsino and Meredith. Once again Hawke had to play the mediator. Templars and mages were both present with the respective leaders, among the mages the numbers was Hawke's sister, Bethany.

"What's this now?" Ranier asked.

"The shitstorm that started it all." Varric sighed. "The sum-up is, Meredith, once again, pulled to hard on the leash she strangling the mages with; she believed Orsino was hiding blood mages in the Gallows and wanted it searched and probably razed. Orsino had enough and was going to bring the case to Grand Cleric Elthina to settle it, and of Meredith refused to let him do that."

They all knew were this memory was going to lead up to, but had to watch it anyway, the Mage Templar War was sparked here and they were going to see it how the Champion saw it.

"Do you think if the Grand Cleric stepped in, it could've been avoided?" Cassandra asked sadly.

"Honestly, Seeker? No." Varric answered. "She made it quiet clear she wasn't going to step in at anytime. Personally, I don't think it would've mattered; the nobles, the citizens, mages and even Templars got sick of Meredith's bullshit. Either way, she was going to start something bad, people were going to die, and everyone had to pick a side."

"Sweet Andraste on her pyre. Look!" Dorian gasped, pointing to the scene before them.

And then he stepped forward, interrupting the Knight-Commander and First Enchanter's vicious argument. After years of being ignored and cast aside, he would make his voice heard. Anders, the rebel apostate that started all of this. Dressed in a black cloak of feather, he began to angrily berate the Knight Commander for her abuses and the First Enchanter for his ineffectiveness. The Companions witnessed the Spirit of Justice take over Anders and Hawke looked genuinely frightened.

"Anders!" Hawke grabbed his friend by the arms, knowing he did something terrible. Hawke knew Anders was up to something, but felt that the healer had come to his senses. "What have you done?"

"There can be no turning back." Anders stated and, sadly, looking up towards Hightown, where the Chantry stood.

And then a sound of thunder and fire erupted from Hightown, it was so loud, surely all the neighboring cities must've heard it. Everyone present, Hawke and his friends, Meredith and her Templars, Orisino and his mages, looked on in horror as a great red eruption arose from the Kirkwall Chantry, rising like a sword towards the skies. How many died within the Chantry, how many more from being just outside of it? Debris and bodies swirled around in small tornado, at the crimson fissure's peak and then exploded destroying half of Hightown! Detritus fell from the sky, like flaming hail, raining down upon Lowtown, like the wrath of the Maker. All there stood for a moment in shock, but the screaming could be heard from everywhere.

"Oh, Sweet Andraste." Bethany whispered in absolute horror.

"Elthina, no!" Sebastian cried out falling to his knees in despair. "Maker, no! She was your most faithful! Most worthy!"

"Why?!" Orsino demanded in horror. "Why would you do such a thing?"

"I've removed the chance of compromise, because there can be no compromise." Anders answered sternly. "So long as the Grand Cleric lived, mages would live under Meredith's oppression, and you would simply obey her like a cringing dog."

"The Grand Cleric has been killed, murdered by the mages." Meredith seethed. "As Knight Commander of Kirkwall, I invoke the Right of Annulment! All mages within the Circle are to be purged!"

"The Circle didn't even do this!" Orsino protested. "Champion, please! You can't let her do this!"

"And I call on you, Champion!" Meredith beseeched. "Your duty to this city is clear, and you are obligated to carry out justice. Even you must see that what must be done."

Hawke was deaf to both of them, he was still struck senseless with horror, and that it was a man he considered his friend that did this terrible deed.

"I...could have stopped you!" Hawke finally let out, remembering how Anders tried to blackmail their friendship into aiding him in some mad scheme. "I knew you were doing something terrible, and I could have stopped you! Maker, damn me for being such a fool!"

"No." Anders responded, unable to look Hawke in the eyes. "This had to happen no matter what. The Circles are an injustice in places beyond Kirkwall, and they do it with our blessing! The world needs to see!"

"Wrong!" Aveline called out furiously "All you've done is proven that you are a demon that deserves to be locked up or worse!"

"You fool!" Orisino shouted. "You've doomed us all!"

"We we're already doomed." Anders replied sternly. "A quick death now or slow death later; I'd rather go out fighting."

"And what about all the innocents you've murdered, you butcher!?" Hawke yelled. "The Grand Cleric, the mages, everyone caught in the blast! What about them!? What about their justice!?"

"It doesn't matter, Champion." Meredith explained. "The people will demand retribution, and I will give it to them."

"I will _**NOT**_ let you slaughter all of the mages for the crimes of one apostate." The Champion defied fearlessly. "If you want Anders, you can have him, but you will not harm a single mage for his actions."

"I knew we could count on you." Bethany sighed in relief.

"You're a fool, Champion!" Meredith raged. She looked to her men and raised her sword at their would-be victims. "Kill them all! I will go and rouse the rest of the Order!"

"Go, now!" Orisino ordered his fellow mages. "Get to the Gallows and warn the rest!" As the mages fled, the Templars engaged Hawke and his Company. They made quick work of them, the Templars were not used to fighting a group of skilled and experienced non-mages.

"That it has come to this." Orsino replied, dourly, looking upon all the dead lying around.

"I don't know if we can in this war, Champion..." The First Enchanter sighed. "But I'm glad your on our side. I'll let you decide what is to be done with your...friend." He motioned at the possessed apostate as he turned to rally the Circle. "Meet with us a soon as you can."

Hawke approached his former friend, his eyes filled with outrage. His hand gripped his sword, and it took every ounce of willpower he had to resist the furious inclination to cut Anders where was.

"There is nothing you can say to me that I have already said to myself." Anders explained. "I took a spirit into my soul and changed myself forever to achieve this."

"A convenient excuse." Hawke spat. "_The demon made me do it_!"

"There's nothing I've done that the Chantry hasn't done before!" Anders rebuked angrily. "This is the justice that the Chantry has had coming for centuries. It's time they feel the same pain they've done to others. If I have to pay for it with my life, then I pay, and all those who were sacrificed for my cause may have their justice."

"He said it himself!" Sebastian called out, angrily. "Kill him now, or I swear I will!"

"Do it, Hawke." Anders all but begged, truly desiring his former friend to commit the deed. "It's what I deserve. Kill me, so that my name might go on to inspire generations."

"Kill you!? You cowardly son-of-a-bitch! I want you to live!" Garret yelled and grabbed his former friend. Anders' was lifted and shoved by the Champion, as he pulled his hair and pointed out to the ruined city. _**"LOOK! LOOK AT WHAT YOU HAVE DONE!"**_

Hawke gave Anders a moment to observe fruits of his labors; The sky was black and red from all flames and ash that clouded the air with the smell of smoke and death filling everyone's lungs. Screams of horror, sobs of despair and battle cries filled their ears like a cacophony of the damned.

"How many people did you murder!? How many more died because of you!? How many of them came to you for healing and salvation!?" Hawke yelled as he yanked hard on Anders' ponytail, harder with each question. "And you think your own death can solve all of this!?" Hawke then tossed his former friend into wall, like a ragdoll and pointed out away from him. "Go! GO YOU FILTH! Go and tell every orphan and every childless mother why their loved ones had to die and explain it to them that it was all in the name of justice!"

"No!" The Starkhaven prince protested. "You can't let him live! Not after he murdered the Grand Cleric!"

"I can, and I am!" The Champion retorted. "I will not make a martyr out of him!"

"Then I will!" Sebastian knocked an arrow into his grandfather's bow, intending to avenge his surrogate mother, but Hawke snatched the arrow right from his hands and quiver then snapped them all like they were twigs on his knee.

"So be it." The former Chantry brother seethed hatefully. "I will return to Starkhaven, and bring such an army that there will be nothing for these maleficarum to rule. I will show them the Chantry's justice!"

"Go ahead." Hawke waved off, feeling unthreatened. "No one will follow you. Not after you ignored them for ten years."

The Prince turned to leave, quickly, and Anders was still there. Did guilt keep him here or fear? "Hawke...I..."

"LEAVE!" Roared at the top of his lungs. "And may the Maker have mercy on you, for no one else shall."

With that Anders gave them all one last look, and fled from them, both in guilt and in sorrow.

Hawke took a moment to recollect himself. How could this all have happened? He never could've imagined Anders of all people, a healer, could have comitted all of this destruction. Now he must stop another maniac from killing anymore innocents. Once again, Hawke's world was falling apart, his home destroyed and burning to the ground. Now, he would never no peace. Never get the chance to settle down with his women and enjoy the luxury with friends and family. He'd always be fighting, never knowing rest, or peace, and always against one fanatic after the next, until the day he dies.

That's when someone gripped his hand, and he looked over and saw his sister's smiling face. Bethany knew how he felt, and she was letting him know he was not alone. Not ever. Garret gripped her hand tighter and smiled. The Hawke siblings turned to their friends who were waiting for him, to know what to do next.

"None of you have to go with me if you don't want to." Hawke said calmly. "I'm Meredith's enemy now, not any of you. There' no need to..."

"Garret Hawke, I'm surprised at you." Aveline scolded. "For years you have done so much for us and this city. Don't you dare think we won't stand with you now."

"Hell yeah!" Varric agreed. "Your story is far from over, and I'm not gonna miss seeing you kick Meredith's ass out of her skirt and up past her ears!"

"I'm not leaving you, not again." Isabela promised yearningly. "You were always there for me, when it would've been better if you didn't. I'm not leaving you ever!"

"Ma Vhenan..." Merrill said, almost dreamily. "I can't ever imagine my life with out you, and I never want to find out. If you're going to stop that terrible woman, then I'll be right beside you."

Garret Hawke was absolutely stunned by his friends and loved one's devotion and despite the situation they were in now, he felt blessed.

"And what about you, Fenris?" The Champion asked the former slave. "Will you fight for the mages?"

"Fight for the mages?" Fenris asked incredulously. "No. Never. But for you? I'll follow into an Archedemon's maw if you asked it. Now let's get moving, we have people to save."

Hawke and his band descended into Lowtown, and it had turned into a nightmare. It was more than just Templars killing mages. Mages had begun to turn into abomination, both to have the power and because they were cornered in despair. Templars turned their blades, not just on surrendering mages and rage filled abominations, but on innocent civilians. Some were killed because they were suspected of being mages or for just helping mages. And in the middle of it all were all of the civilians, regular people who just wanted to get on with their lives, just like Hawke. Once again, outside forces were destroying their lives, bringing everything they knew and loved to the sword and the torch. People were dying everywhere and all Hawke could do was fight his way through and try his best not to weep at it all.

**~XoXoXo~**

The viewers of this memory had hard time watching themselves. Varric looked away, not wanting to relive the experience of seeing his home destroyed or his friends in peril. Cassandra looked like she wanted to cry, whereas Cole just let the tears fall down. What happened here in Kirkwall was far worse than what happened fighting against Corypheus. All of Kirkwall wasn't being raised by a madman trying to claim godhood. No, it was the madness they all created themselves. People killing people for the basest of fears and prejudices.

Varric watched the memory nostalgically while the others looked on with revelation. Evidently, the Champion and the Hero had more in common than just the both of them being warriors from Ferelden who fought at Ostagar.

"Maker's breath, how I remember that day." Varric sighed. "We're still rebuilding everything that happened then, and we're still nowhere close to rebuilding what was lost, or healing those who were hurt.

"So it' true, everything." Cassandra lamented. "Now I truly understand why Rajmael wanted the Chantry gone."

"You truly can't mean, Cassandra?" Vivienne questioned. "What happened here was a lamentable tragedy, but mages must have oversight if we're to survive."

"Yes, I do." The Seeker affirmed. "How many suffered hear because we allowed the Templars to abuse their duty? How many died because we didn't seek peaceful ends and in our self-righteousness killed all those who questioned us. The Chantry had lost it's way, or perhaps it never did; instead of bringing peace and enlightenment we allowed tyrants like Meredith to harm, not just mages, but the very people the Chantry was supposed to guide and protect."

"The suffering the Templars caused is beyond counting, Cassandra." Cole confirmed. He himself had witnessed such crimes when he was a spirit, and could still feel the pain of their victims. "All they needed was to wear the Chantry's Sunburst, and they were allowed to get away with the beatings, the rapes, and the murders."

"Sad to say, but you can't just hand people that kind of authority and then expect there to not be any abuses." Iron Bull said factually. "I know the Seekers are the ones who are supposed to watch out for that kind of thing, but it's not like your Order was ever that tolerant or accepting of mages. Under the Qun at least, everyone answers to someone, and crimes like this aren't tolerated."

"I think magic is creepy and everything, but you can't treat people like that. Not their fault they were born with creepy magic." Sera said with surprising agreement. "If I were a mage, I'd probably be pissed at the world, too."

"I was in Ferelden with Aedan when the Circle there was overrun by Abominations." Zevran stated. "Many of them were mages who wanted to be free from the Chantry. Maybe if the Chantry had heard them out instead of locking them away, perhaps things wouldn't have gotten so bad like it did there. Like it did _here_."

"And look what ended up happening because the mages decided to lash out. Both in Ferelden and Kirkwall, countless people were left dead." Vivienne argued. "Mages cannot be allowed to have no oversight, lest we repeat the mistakes that were made in Tevinter."

"Standing right here, you know." Dorian reminded but Vivienne ignored him.

"What the mages truly need is proper representation. A leader who can not only protect them, but who people will listen to and make their grievances heard." Vivienne finished.

"You are so transparent, it should be criminal, Lady Vivienne." Ranier admonished with disgust. "By _'proper representation'_ you, of course, mean yourself. Because you know so much about what these mages went through. I'm sure you learned all that while sipping seasonal wines in fancy villas while making small talk with Orlais' elite."

"You're hardly one to talk about transparency, _Thom Ranier_. Given your reputation for honesty." Vivienne sneered back. "You're not a mage, and couldn't possibly know what it is they go through, or what they need to stay safe."

"And neither are you." Varric shot seriously back at Vivienne. He glared up at her with an angry look in his eyes. "You are woefully underqualified to even think you're one to lead the mages. While you were in Val Royeaux, rubbing elbows with the nobility, I was here, with Hawke, and I saw firsthand what these mages went through. The pain they suffered, while you were living the high life. You weren't even a part of a Mage Fraternity. So don't act as if you know what your fellow mages went through, especially when you think everyone is so beneath you."

**~XoXoXo~**

Hawke and his companions stood inside the main hall of the Gallows. Cassandra and the other took a good look and this place, and realized that it truly was a prison. The windows were all barred, even the ones no person could reach. Every door had locks and bolts on the outside, to keep the mages from coming out. Almost all Circles in Thedas were like magnificent libraries, while this one was nothing more than a glorified dungeon. The Templars had done little to change the history of the Gallows, which was originally built by the Ancient Imperium to house and break the wills of their slaves. If anything, Meredith honored the Gallow's grisly history.

None of them dared say a word as the final events of Hawke's life in Kirkwall played out in front of them like a macabre play. Anders had the gall to show his himself again, and offered help. His plea was met by Hawke's mailed fist, breaking his nose and Anders left the Champion's tale and faded into obscurity. They saw how Hawke mounted a final, desperate, defense against the Templars to give the mages, people he owed absolutely nothing, a chance to escape. As the Champion, Hawke had sworn to protect the innocent and stand against tyranny. He would stand by that creed now, even if it meant facing the full wrath of the Templar Order.

They all witnessed poor Orsino's mind and spirit break at the sight of seeing so many of his mages slaughtered for crimes they had not committed. In his despair, he resorted to the only weapon he had left, a final act of defiance. Meredith wanted blood magic, and so he would give it to her. He slit his wrists, tapping into the power of his own blood, and fused his being with the bodies of his slain mages, turning himself into a giant walking abomination of rot and death: a flesh golem.

Hawke was forced to slay the monstrosity Orsino had become. Tore its head from its body, then stomped on it. There was no malice in what Hawke did. If anything, it was a mercy. Orsino had been fighting for years for the rights of his fellow mages, only to be put down and ignored at every turn, until finally he couldn't take any more. Watching his fellow mages be senselessly murdered, even after he begged for their lives, shattered him.

Hawke and his comrades pushed through the Gallows, killing every Templar and demon they came across, never once giving an inch to their foes. The only way the Templars were going to take this fortress back was to kill them, and they weren't going to make that easy for them. Hawke defended this city against the Qunari, and he wasn't going to let another group of fanatics trample it's people.

When Hawke made it outside the Gallows, covered in blood not his own. He looked out to the city, and felt his heart break inside him as he watched the flames engulf. Now, after all these years, he finally understood that soul-crushing agony that his mother suffered when Lothering was destroyed. To watch as everything he tried to protect, the life he built, all of it was now gone. After a decade of trying to create something for himself, he could never come back after this. However, Hawke's father taught him that walking the righteous path was never easy, and if it meant stopping Meredith from destroying any more lives, then Hawke's life truly had meaning.

Varric watched with deep nostalgia as the memories of his friends strode out to meet Meredith and her Templars, all of them ready to reach this story's crescendo. Either way, this was the end of a storied chapter.

Hawke fearlessly walked up to the cold-blooded hag that had unjustly ruled this city with an iron grip, who unjustly called the death of so many and dared to call her crimes righteous. He held the Celebrant tightly in his hands, and readied to finally put an end to her tyranny.

"And so here we are, Champion, at long last." Meredith spoke with anticipation in her voice, like she had been waiting for this moment.

"I suppose we both knew it would come to this some day, Meredith. I imagine you've wanted to get rid of me for some time now." Hawke addressed with deepest loathing on his lips.

"I bear you no ill-will, but justice is clear. Our actions are righteous, and sanctioned by Divine mandate, and you stand in the way of that." Meredith responded coldly, if not honestly.

"Wow. I don't know what's more heinous. The fact that you have the gall to spin such lies after all the people you've killed, or the fact that you believe them." Hawke mocked satirically. "Either way, there's no way I'm going to allow myself to be judged by some Chantry biddy and your warped interpretation of justice."

"I'm afraid you misunderstand your situation, Champion." Meredith stated with grave indifference. "You are no mage, but in supporting them you've elected to share their fate. You must die with the rest of this Circle."

Hawke smiled defiantly at the Knight-Commander and assumed his combat stance with the Celebrant. "If dying here means have the chance to spit in your eye, I'll call that a good death."

No longer able to stand quietly in the background, Cullen finally stepped forward and dared to question his Knight-Commander. "Knight-Commander, I thought we intended to arrest the Champion."

"You will do as I command, Cullen." Meredith ordered sternly.

"No." Cullen defied strongly. "I defended you when Thrask started whispering you were mad. But this is too far."

"I will not allow insubordination! We must stay true to our path!" Meredith shouted furiously, brandishing the strange sword she had on her back. The sword burned blood-red in Meredith's hands. The sword emanated a powerful, alien energy that possessed the heat of a dwarven forge. It was made from a material that was all too familiar to Hawke and Varric.

"Andraste's dimpled buttcheeks!" The memory of Varric swore in utter shock.

"You recognize it, do you not?" Meredith asked tauntingly. She held the sword before her and basked in its power. As she held it, Hawke could see the insanity in her eyes. "Pure lyrium, taken from the Deep Roads. The dwarf charged a great deal for his prize."

Hawke held the Celebrant defiantly towards the crazed Knight-Commander, unflinching in his conviction. "How appropriate, Meredith. That idol brings doom to whoever has it. You're not leaving this place alive."

Meredith pointed her red lyrium sword at Hawke in outrage, it's blade burning dangerously. "All of you, I want this man dead!"

"Enough!" Cullen refused defiantly. He would not be party to this lunacy any longer. "This is not what the Order stands for. Knight-Commander, stand down. I relieve you of command!"

With those words from Cullen's mouth, the last bit of Meredith's sanity finally shattered. Her face twisted with betrayal and outrage. She looked around to all her Templars and saw nothing but enemies around her. "My own Knight-Captain has fallen prey to bloodmagic? You all have! You're all weak, to allow mages to influence your minds, to turn you against me." Meredith accused madly, pointing her sword at her betrayers. "But I don't need any of you! I will protect this city myself!"

The mad Knight-Commander turned her sword to the Champion, who was the cause of everything that has gone wrong in her eyes. She would smite him down with all the power this sword granted her. But Cullen stood in her path, his own sword drawn against her. He would not let her insanity go any further.

"You'll have to go through me." Cullen challenged.

"Idiot boy. Just like all the others." Meredith cursed spitefully. She gripped the red lyrium sword tightly in her fist and stabbed it into the ground, creating a red shockwave of energy that threw the surrounding Templars off their feet, and kneeled before the sword like she was praying. "Blessed are those who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter!"

With that final prayer, Meredith clenched her sword and charged Hawke with unnatural speed and power. She moved within even more force and speed than the Arishok did. Hawke was barely able to block her attack in time, and could feel the foul energy of her blade dancing on his skin. As a Templar, Meredith was able to tap into the unknown energy of the red lyrium in her sword and greatly increase her own power. She moved like a storm, striking with such speed and power no ordinary human could hope to match.

However, Garret Hawke, despite what he himself might think, was no ordinary human. He slaughtered scores of darkspawn and rock-wraiths to reach further into the Deep Roads than even the Wardens dared to venture. He had faced demons, bloodmages, dragons, and slew both the mighty Arishock and one of the Magisters who created the Blights. And after each victory, Hawke came out stronger, smarter, more prepared for the next danger. Meredith, on the other hand, even with her fancy sword, was just another despot. And despots are meant to be slain.

It took all of Hawke's years of training and experience to keep up with Meredith's powerful strikes and to not fall victim to the destructive energy of her sword. Despite this newfound power Meredith possessed, she did not wield it masterfully. She was letting her anger control her, instead of controlling it, and that made her predictable. And an enemy that can be predicted can be hurt.

Hawke deflected Meredith's furious attacks and followed through with several powerful counterattacks of his own. The Knight-Commander wasn't the only one with magical equipment, and Hawke spent the last few years and a small fortune to give Sandal all the best material to create the strongest enchantment on his weapons and armor. The Champion met the Knight-Commander's fury head-on, his armor protecting him from her wretched sword, and used the fire-enchanted Celebrant to knock her weapon out of his way and attacked her in force.

The Champion's remaining comrades joined their friend against this hateful woman. Merrill unleashed her bloodmagic to inflict terrible pain on Meredith, while Isabella threw a barrage of knives right at her head. Neither of them were going to let the wretched Knight-Commander hurt the love of their lives. Bethany used her Force Mage abilities to affect the gravity surrounding Meredith to greatly slow her down, and make her an easier target for her brother. Hawke had chosen to give his life for her and the mages, she could do no less for her family.

Varric shot everything he had from Bianca and provided covering fire while Aveline and Fenris attacked Meredith from her flanks. After everything Meredith had put this city through, put his friends through, Varric had no intention of holding back. Aveline owed Hawke almost everything, he was family to her, and helped her find happiness a second time, she would not let him down. All the anger Fenris felt, the wretched feelings he had been bottling up all these years, he finally let all loose on the hypocritical Knight-Commander. No matter where he went, corrupt tyrants were the same, and he would show Meredith just how much he hated corrupt tyrants.

After what felt like forever, Meredith finally staggered backwards in pain from the combined assault of the Champion and his comrades. Their combined attacks had inflicted several grievous wounds on her, but she refused to submit. She would not let anything stop her goal, even as the whole city turned against her.

"Maker, your servant begs you for the strength to defeat this evil!" Meredith cried out madly, her eyes burning red as the power of the red lyrium saturated her being.

The Knight-Commander made an impossible leap to the top of the Gallows' steps, stabbing the sword into the marble ground, and unleashed even more of its power. Fissures of crimson energy erupted from the ground and transferred to the ancient statues of the slaves and slavers that stood in this courtyard, bringing them to life as Meredith's new soldiers, and attacked everyone in the Gallows, including the Templars.

As Meredith's animated statues attacked all her enemies, Meredith ranted and raved in furious insanity at all those who dared defy her.

"You are a fool, Champion! Magic is a cancer, just as it was in the time of Andraste! We are left with no choice but to purify it with fire and blood! Everything that is wrong with this world, the mages bring! Abominations, bloodmagic, even the Blights! All the evil in the world is led back to magic! I must finish Andraste's holy quest and purge magic from this world, and all those who stand in the path of the righteous will feel the Maker's wrath! You cannot win, I will not allow it!"

"Oh, shut up!" Hawke yelled angrily. He had enough of Meredith's madness. It was time to end it once and for all.

Aveline knocked one of the walking statues' legs out from underneath it with her shield, and Hawke ran up it and leaped at Meredith, bringing his sword down on her. Meredith blocked the Celebrant with her own wretched sword, and the two of them became stuck in a powerful sword lock. Neither backed down before the other, and finally unleashed all the years of hatred and disgust they had for on another.

"You cannot win this, Champion! Evil cannot conquer the righteous! I am the Maker's wrath!" Meredith seethed with hatred dripping from her every word.

"I said..._**SHUT UP!"** _Hawke yelled furiously, and followed through with a powerful headbutt that smashed Meredith's face and broke their sword lock.

Hawke summoned all his strength, will, all the years of acquiring new techniques and skills, and brought it all down on Meredith. The power from the red lyirum idol that her sword was forged from gave her unnatural vitality, but Hawke did not relent. After all the years of misery and torment Meredith had caused, Hawke showed her no mercy, for she deserved none. He knocked down her defenses, slashed the sword out of his way and brought down his fury in all his attacks. He stabbed, hacked and impaled repeatedly and without stop. If Meredith had been any other enemy, she would have been murdered many times over.

Meredith staggered back, he blood trickling down her armor. For every strike she attempted, Hawke countered and followed through with three more that cut her deeply. She was losing, and she knew it, but she would not _allow_ it. Meredith had come too far, sacrificed too many to allow this wretched blasphemer stop her from carrying out the Maker's will. She needed more power. The Maker would give her strength.

"I will not be defeated!" Meredith screamed madly. The toll of her weapon and insanity was finally taking a toll on her. Meredith held the sword tight in her grip before her, and drew on even more of its power. "Maker, please, aid your humble servant!"

The sword hummed loudly and burned brighter than it ever had. It's power resonating throughout the Gallows. Then, out of nowhere, it exploded into a thousand fragments in Meredith's grip. The Knight-Commander screamed in horrid agony as the fragment from her own sword burned her body and grafted to her flesh. Meredith fell to her knees, her tortured screams echoed throughout Kirkwall, as her body was consumed by the very weapon that had given her strength and robbed her sanity. When Meredith's screaming finally died, all that was left of her was the smoldering statue of what was once the Knight-Commander completely encased in red lyrium, her eyes burning, and that horrid look of pain frozen on her face.

Hawke looked down upon the desiccated remain of the Knight-Commander, not in shock like everyone else, but in contempt. "Here is the Maker's answer for your heresy: judgment and silence."

Garret turned towards the Templars, his sword raised, and dared them to approach him. He knew they all still wanted him in chains. Instead, Cullen motioned for the Templars to stand down, and allowed Garret to leave. Hawke took one moment to look back on Meredith's body and spat on her petrified face. If this was the Maker's punishment, then it was a just one. May Meredith Strannard forever remain here as a grisly reminder of those who commit atrocities and terror in the Maker's name.

Hawke took one last look at Kirkwall as the flames that burned the city pressed against the night sky. The city he had sworn to protect had been destroyed, and after tonight, he could no longer call Kirkwall his home. Everything he had worked for, was now gone, and Hawke's dreams of a peaceful life went with it. He had stopped Meredith's insanity and saved the mages from a brutal injustice, but lost everything in the process.

Then the soft hands of Merrill and Isabella grabbed Hawke's and they both smiled proudly, lovingly at him. He looked to his sister, and there was nothing but pride in Bethany's shinning eyes. In their smiles, Hawke realized that he had not lost everything. He still had his friends and loved ones. And in the end, he kept the one thing that had always mattered most to him: his honor. In the end, that's what a Champion is meant for.

**~XoXoXo~**

"And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen." Varric announced. "That's how the Mage-Templar war started, and how Hawke became a legend."

"Man...that was badass!" Iron Bull hollered and laughed.

"Seeing the Champion's victories is certainly better than hearing about it." Dorian agreed.

"I met the Champion while he was still in Kirkwall, back when I was still evading the Crows. And believe me when I say there is nothing like watching a man like that defy the odds." Zevran lauded.

"He knew what was right and what was wrong. He stood against tyranny when others would have bowed to it, protected the innocent when other would have condemned them. His mother, father and brother would have been proud." Cole spoke contently.

"That's how the crazy Templar-lady turned into a statue? Ugh! What made her think playing with red lyrium was a smart idea?" Sera shuddered.

"That sword Meredith was using against the Champion, it couldn't have been the same one Samson was using, was it?" Ranier asked curiously.

"It's certainly possible." Vivienne answered. "Corypheus used forms of magic no one truly knows, and knew how to manipulate the red lyrium. Perhaps he reconstructed the sword from its shards by using the same magic he used to resurrect himself, along with the magic of that orb. I certainly don't know."

"Meredith's actions here were a disgrace to the Chantry." Cassandra said condemningly. "She had no right to hold the Circle responsible for what Anders did, and then dared to act as if she was carrying out the Maker's will. Still, I wonder how much of that was truly Meredith and how much was that red lyrium."

"Meredith was cracked like a walnut, there's no denying that, but you're forgetting who allowed her to go that far: Grand Cleric Elthina." Varric reminded.

"That's a touch indelicate, isn't it, Varric? Blaming someone else's insanity on a dead woman?" Vivienne chided. "Wouldn't it be more apt to put the blame on that apostate Anders? After all, it was his actions that killed Elthina and sent Meredith on a rampage."

"If it wasn't Anders, then someone else would have done something like that eventually." Varric answered. "Everything Meredith did, she did it with the Chantry's blessing, with Elthina's blessing. Even when the city was groaning for a new leader, and Meredith was abusing her authority, the Grand-Cleric still refused to stop her. All she did was let things stay the way they were, and let Meredith's insanity get out of control."

"And that's the same insanity and zealotry the Viddasala wishes to unleash on the rest of Thedas." Cassandra realized. Now that she had seen what true fanaticism was, she understood the danger the qunari posed right now. "If the Viddasala is anything like Meredith, we cannot allow this Dragon's Breath plan of her come to fruition. The South has been harmed by enough blind zealots. We must stop this."

"I'm all for that, Seeker, I truly am." Zevran agreed. "However, the only problem is we're stuck walking down memory lane, while they're back in the real world. How are supposed to change that?"

"By going forward." Cole answered enigmatically. "We leave by walking the path and reaching the end. We must watch, must see. Only by witnessing do we pass."

Before any of them could take a second to register what Cole just explained, another bright flash erupted around them, and once again, they found themselves consumed by blinding light of this strange place.

**Location Unknown...**

Eva sat alone her cell for what felt like an eternity, still trying to grasp of the circumstances she had been pulled into. She felt like a leaf that had fallen into a raging river and was being swept away by the power of it current, with no control over what was happening to her. It would seem that was her lot in life. Looking back, it always seemed like her life was nothing more than an inconvenience for other people to shove around, and she hated it. Now the qunari were trying to control her, like they tried to control everything, and wanted to use her against her own people. Eva hated everything right now.

The wayward Dalish child thought of her family and clan, how frantic her grandmother must be right now. After losing her husband, son, and good-daughter, the prospect of losing her only grandchild must be killing her. Eva thought of her late grandfather, and tried to remember the wisdom he would always impart to the da'len. Eva tried to remember her father, and almost wept at realizing that she barely remembered his face. Her strongest memories of him were when he took her on her first halla ride through the forest, and how tightly she clutched to him as they went, both laughing all the way. Then Eva remembered her Mama, the way she would hold her and sing to her as she slept. Just wishing that her Mama was her now to hold her, make her feel safe and whisper warm words in her ear made Eva weep. She wanted to go home, and be with her family.

Eva's mind traveled to Rajmael and the last, bitter conversation they had together. At the time, she was beyond angry at him, now she wished he was here with her. Eva wanted to take back what she said, to make things right with him. All Eva could do now was hope beyond hope that Rajmael would save her, and that he was truly not dying.

Eva heard footsteps approaching her cell and quickly wiped the tears from her face before Isskari and Tallis came through the door once again. Eva's look of sorrow was replaced by one of anger and revilement for the two elven qunari that kidnapped her from her people. Eva was the daughter of Nethras and Evanura Lavellan, the best hunter and swordswoman of their clan; she would not show weakness to these flat-ears.

"Let me guess: you idiots still want me to give you information on Rajmael and what secrets he posses?" Eva guessed sarcastically.

"You know we are, child. And we do aim to get the information we're looking for." Isskari answered coldly.

"And what, in this vast, miserable world of ours, makes you think I would ever betray Rajmael, or any elf for that matter, to the likes of you?" Eva disputed.

"Because the information you hold is key to saving the South from the destruction your stepfather haphazardly allows. And talking to us is the best option for you." Isskari answered as a warning. "There are others here who could make you talk, and they would show you no clemency or sympathy because you're a child."

"Oh? So what you've been doing to me is considered clemency in the Qun? Kidnapping and chaining me, torturing me with these damned chains, then leaving me to starve, that's your idea of sympathy? You qunari either have different meanings for such words, or you're just plain evil." Eva rebutted heatedly.

"Please, Eva. We're doing this to save countless lives, both our people's and yours. You can help us do that." Tallis pleaded, though she didn't if she was trying to convince the girl, or herself.

Eva groaned in annoyance. There was nothing these two could say or do that would convince her they were acting for the good of Thedas, let alone the welfare of the elves. Still, she knew they would just keep hounding her, so Eva decided to throw these dogs a bone. "Tell you what: my people don't really care much for gold or currency, we believe in trading things of equal value, so that neither party is ever cheated. You tell me something and I'll tell you exactly what you need to know about Rajmael."

The corners of Isskar's lips curled ever so slightly into the faintest glimpse of a smirk. "That is unusually reasonable of you. Very well, what do you want to know?"

"Why in the name of all things good and holy did you two join the Qun?" Eva asked seriously.

Both the elven converts paused for a moment. It had been a very long time since either of them thought of this, and it wasn't one they liked to think of. However, if it could get Eva to finally give them the intel they needed, it was an extremely small price to pay.

"As I said before, child, like you, I was once Dalish." Isskari started solemnly. "My entire clan was wiped out by the darkspawn during the Blight, all in one night."

Eva's eyes went wide with shock. It shouldn't have surprised her, no clan on its own could ever stand against a horde of darkspawn, but for an entire clan to be wiped out from history was like severing a piece of the elvhen soul.

"What...what happened after that?" Eva dared to ask.

"My mother and I managed to flee North, away from the Blight, but she had contracted the taint and died from a fever." Isskari continued. "That's when I found the qunari and embraced the Qun."

"That's it? You didn't try finding another clan? You didn't want to rejoin our people?" Eva asked trying to understand.

"No, why should I have?" Isskari answered callously. "The qunari have a strength of purpose and discipline that is unrivaled in all the world. They look forward, never back, trying to bring enlightenment and peace to this chaotic world. The elves are content with living in poverty, being brushed aside and abused by human society without any true purpose, while the Dalish are content with living like backward savages in the woods, clinging to a bygone past that has never brought us anything except misery and pain. I joined the Qun because I know our people would be better under it."

At first Eva felt sympathy for the former Dalish elf, now all she felt was even more anger and disgust for him. "How dare you!? From where I'm sitting, you sound like you're no different than the humans you want to destroy. You call us, your own people backward savages, but all you are is another religious fanatic out to commit cultural genocide! Of all the people in your clan the darkspawn killed, why couldn't you have died and someone more worthy have lived?" Eva turned her attention to Tallis with an angry glare in her green eyes. "And what about you, what's your excuse?"

Tallis sat down on the cell floor so she could speak at eye-level with Eva. She didn't like thinking about what she was before the Qun, but sometimes it helped to just talk about it. Maybe she could even get Eva to understand.

"I was born in Tevinter. My parents sold me into slavery so they could pay off their debts." Tallis began sorrowfully.

Eva was visibly stunned by this revelation. She couldn't fathom any parent doing such a thing to their child.

"The slave ship I was on was captured by the qunari and we were taken Qantharus for conversion." Tallis continued, her eyes fixed on the floor. "I was deemed...unsuitable for conversion, I was too broken inside. I would have been made into mindless laborer if it weren't for a Ben-Hessrath agent called Salit. He convinced the tammasrans to let him train me. Even in the sorry state that I was in, he could see my potential, and did everything he could to bring it out. He was patient with me, showed me more caring and affection than my parents did, showed me where my purpose was. That's when my life truly began. The Qun cares about its people, all of them. It wants to see its people live up to their full potential, instead of just casting them aside or living off of them. It's not easy being an elf in the Qun, I know, but it can give everyone of every race a chance for true peace, where we're not divided by petty differences."

Eva sat there for a moment in silence, and both Tallis and Isskari thought they might have been finally getting through to the stubborn child.

"Are you fucking kidding me!?" Eva shouted in complete outrage, shattering any notion the two qunari might have had. "You just told me that the qunari thought you were unfit for conversion and were going to turn you into a mindless laborer! If it weren't for that guy who became your teacher, you'd be worse than mindless slave right now. If I was born under the Qun, I would be bound, leashed and collared like an animal because of my magic! And you idiots are trying to tell me the Qun cares for everyone, that it has a place for them? Convert, or be turned into a brainless slave. If you're a mage, you're a dangerous creature to be chained. No, the way I see it, the Qun is just another form of slavery, and my people have had enough of that! You're not an enlightened people, you're just another group of fanatics with swords. Hypocrites with a cause!"

Tallis mentally kicked herself in the ass. She should have known better than to think she could get through to this girl. Eva was still hurt and angry, and Tallis couldn't blame her. After what they've been putting her through, she couldn't deny what Eva thought of the Qun. She wished she could make the little girl understand that the Qun was more than that.

"Enough of this!" Isskari shouted, his patience wearing thin. "We fulfilled your condition, now uphold yours. What do you know of the Inquisitor's plans?"

"Very well. I'm nothing if not a girl of my word." Eva laughed dryly. "I'll tell you exactly what you need to know about Rajmael. And you might want to write this down so you don't forget it."

Isskari came in closer and produced a paper and pen to write with.

"Rajmael...is coming here, right now, and when he does he's going to kill you all! All you can do is wait for him to hit you with everything he's got!" Eva shouted victoriously, as if she were predicting a future that had already happened. "Rajmael walked through the Beyond, mended the sky, and killed the Elder One in single combat while you qunari stood back and watched! You think you're going to beat him? No, all you did was wake a sleeping giant! He's coming here, he's going to rescue me, and there isn't a damned thing you and precious Qun can do to stop him! Take that and report it to your superiors!"

Isskari gritted his jaw so furiously he threatened to break his own teeth under the strain. Tallis was more impressed than shocked with Eva; this child had more courage and strength than a lot of soldiers she had met, and she had barely hit puberty. Despite her admiration, Tallis knew in her heart that no tammasran would ever find Eva to be a suitable convert. This did not bode well for the child.

Isskari was done playing nice. He turned to leave the cell to make his final preparations against the Dalish child. "So be it. I have given you every chance to cooperate, to keep this civilized, and you've spat on that chance. We will do this your way. I hope you're ready."

"Do your worst, scum." The brave young elf dared defiantly. "I am Eva of Clan Lavellan, and I will never yield to the likes of you!"

Tallis left the cell with Isskari, and couldn't settle the internal struggle battling inside her. As a qunari, she knew her role was to assist the Isskari in gathering intel from this child so that the Viddasala would complete her mission. Eva was sarebaas, and therefore dangerous and couldn't be trusted to control herself. Yet at the same time, Tallis couldn't help but admire Eva. She had a strength of character that most couldn't dream of having, and a certainty of self that Tallis had been seeking her whole life. Yet soon, Tallis was going to be forced to assisting Isskari in carrying out a more effective method of interrogation. Tallis felt her resolve waver. In her heart of hearts, she knew she couldn't harm this amazing child. She had to help her somehow. But how could she do so without defying the Qun?

**Language Codex:**

**Sarebaas:** Qunlat term for mage, translates as "Dangerous Thing".

**~Author's Note~**

**Alright! And here's Part 2 of my final Original Arc.**

**I hope this answers some questions that some of you may have and that some people have asked me in the past.**

**Sorry it took me so long to get this posted. I'm in between jobs at the moment and that's taking up my time.**

**Up next is the third and final chapter of the Path of Memory Arc. I can't wait to finish it.**

**Please, review and tell me what you think.**


	49. Emergency!

**~To All My Loyal Readers~**

I am very sorry to say that an emergency has risen that is going to put my writing and all future updates on hold indefinitely. I live in California, where wild fires are a part of life, and one started not far from where I live this morning. The fire is close to where I live and an emergency evacuation seems inevitable. Should the worst come to worst, I will be forced to leave behind much of what I own. I will have to put aside my love for writing to make myself and my family are going to be okay.

I hope and pray that the worst shall not come to pass, but if it should, I want you all to know why my story will not be progressing for a while. It is my intent and desire to finish this story, and I have every intention to do so, but only when I am not in a state of emergency. I thank you all for your continued support and enjoyment. I couldn't have gotten this far without it.

Sincerely and with fondest regards,

_**Powerslammer.**_

**PS: **For any new readers and Dragon Age enthusiasts who like my story, I urge to please leave me a review and tell me what you like or dislike about it. I always enjoy feedback from my readers.


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